Sam rubbed the back of his neck, his expression shuttered. “You’ve gotten off topic,” he said finally. “I asked you about Anna, not your schemes for exploiting my talents.”
“Not really. The two are connected. I want to go to this thing to talk to the Wests. I want to talk about investment opportunities and expanding contracts with other people deemed worthy of an invite. In case you haven’t noticed, we weren’t on that list.”
“Yeah, I get that. But why would the lately not-so-great McCormacks be invited?”
“That’s the problem. This place hasn’t been what it was for a couple of generations, and when we lost Mom and Dad...well, we were teenagers trying to keep up a whole industry, and now we work for these people, not with them. I aim to change that.”
“You didn’t think about talking to me?” Sam asked.
“Oh, I did. And I decided I didn’t want to have to deal with you.”
Sam shot him an evil glare. “So you’re going as Anna’s date. And helping her win her bet.”
“Exactly.”
“And you took her out last night, and she went back to your place, and now she’s mad at you.”
Chase held his hands up. “I don’t know what you’re getting at—”
“Yes, you do.” Sam crossed his arms. “Did you bang her?”
Chase recoiled, trying to look horrified at the thought. He didn’t feel horrified at the thought. Which actually made him feel kind of horrified. “I did not.”
“Is that why you’re mad? Because you didn’t?”
His brother was way too perceptive for a guy who pounded heavy things with other heavy things for a living.
“No,” he said. “Anna is my friend. She’s just a friend. We had a slight...altercation last night. But it’s not that big a deal.”
“Big enough that I’m worried with all your stomping around you’re eventually going to fling the wrong thing and hit me with molten metal.”
“Safety first,” Chase said, “always.”
“I bet you say that to your dates, too.”
“You would, too, if you had any.”
Sam flipped Chase the bird in response.
“Just forget about it,” Chase said. “Forget about the stuff with the Wests, and let me deal with it. And forget about Anna.”
When it came to that last directive, he was going to try to do the same.
* * *
Anna was dreading coming face-to-face with Chase again after last night. But she didn’t really have a choice. They were still in this thing. Unless she called it off. But that would be tantamount to admitting that what had happened last night bothered her. And she didn’t want to do that. More, she was almost incapable of doing it. She was pretty sure her pride would wither up and die if she did.
But Chase was coming by her shop again tonight, with some other kind of lesson in mind. Something he’d written down on that stupid legal pad of his. It was ridiculous. All of it was ridiculous.
Herself most of all.
She looked at the clock, gritting her teeth. Chase would be by any moment, and she was no closer to dealing with the feelings, needs and general restlessness that had hit her with the blunt force of a flying wrench than she had been last night.
Then, right on time, the door opened, and in walked Chase. He was still dirty from work today, his face smudged with ash and soot, his shirt sticking to his muscular frame, showing off all those fine muscles underneath. Yeah, that didn’t help.
“How was work?” he asked.
“Fine. Just dealing with putting a new cylinder head on a John Deere. You?”
“Working on a gate.”
“Sounds...fun,” she said, though she didn’t really think it sounded like fun at all.
She liked solving the puzzle when it came to working on engines. Liked that she had the ability to get in there and figure things out. To diagnose the situation.
Standing in front of a hot fire forging metal didn’t really sound like her kind of thing.
Though she couldn’t deny it did pretty fantastic things for Chase’s physique.
“Well, you know it would be fine if Sam wasn’t such a pain in the ass.”
“Sure,” she said, feeling slightly cautious. After last night, she felt like dealing with Chase was like approaching a dog who’d bitten you once. Only, in this case he had kissed her, not bitten her, and he wasn’t a dog. That was the problem. He was just much too much for his own good. Much too much for her own good.
“So,” she said, “what’s on the lesson plan for tonight?”
“I sort of thought we should talk about...well, talking.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are ways that women talk to men they want to date. I thought I might walk you through flirting.”
“You’re going to show me how to flirt?”
“Somebody has to.”
“I can probably figure it out,” she said.
“You think?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and rocking back on his heels.
His clear skepticism stoked the flames of her temper, which was lurking very close to the surface after last night. That was kind of her default. Don’t know how to handle something? Don’t know what you feel? Get angry at it.
“Come on. Men and women have engaged in horizontal naked kickboxing for millennia. I’m pretty sure flirting is a natural instinct.”
“You’re a poet, Anna,” he said, his tone deadpan.
“No, I’m a tractor mechanic,” she said.
“Yeah, and you talk like one, too. If you want to get an actual date, and not just a quick tumble in the back of a guy’s truck, you might want to refine your art of conversation a little.”
“Who says I’m opposed to a quick rough tumble in the back of some guy’s truck?”
“You’re not?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting upward.
“Well, in all honesty I would probably prefer my truck, since it’s clean. I know where it’s been. But why the hell not? I have needs.”
He scowled. “Right. Well, keep that kind of talk to yourself.”
“Does
