style="font-size:15px;"> “Least I can do.” Brendan sincerely meant that. He was grateful to be here and wanted to give back. There was something about this sunshine-yellow barn that brightened the dark places inside him.
Luke left shortly after that and Brendan went to his temporary shop in the barn. On the worktable was a food processor he’d started to take apart yesterday, before impulsively giving in to Luke’s dinner invitation. The lady who dropped it off was annoyed that it crapped out right after the warranty was up. She didn’t give the thing much of a chance at a second life and told him not to waste too much time trying. The thing was, after his morning workout he had nothing but time.
He removed a couple of small screws to separate the outer casing from the motor in order to assess the problem. Just as he was pulling it apart, his cell phone rang. He tapped the answer icon.
“Hello.”
“Hey, it’s Fiona O’Reilly.”
“Oh. Hi.” His voice sounded rusty but he resisted the urge to clear his throat.
“Hi.” She hesitated a moment. “How are you?”
“Fine,” he lied. Hearing her voice brought back visions of her red hair and the teasing smile that had tension curling in his gut. “You?”
“Great.” Her voice sounded rusty, too, but she cleared her throat. “So, dinner last night was good.”
“Yeah. I’m not used to a spread like that.”
“If you stick around long enough, the calories will catch up to you.” She laughed ruefully. “I carry the proof of that on my hips.”
In his opinion her hips were perfect, along with the rest of her. But saying so seemed out of line. “I added an extra couple of miles to my morning run.”
“Speaking of running,” she said, “last night you disappeared after clearing the table and just before dessert. A less secure woman might think you were trying to get away from her.”
He had been, but not for the reason she probably thought. She was equal parts temptation and complication. Marines believed retreat wasn’t an option but he’d made an exception for her. Because he’d also been trained in survival.
“If I’d stayed any longer, I’d have had another helping of everything and that would’ve just been embarrassing.”
“Yeah. Eva outdid herself. She does the baking at Daisy’s Donuts, but she’s an all-around outstanding cook, too.”
“I found that out.” He waited for her to say something and when there was silence, he thought he’d lost her. “Fiona?”
“I’m here.” She cleared her throat again. “I have something to ask you.”
He frowned. Was it something he’d said at dinner? His remark about necessity being the mother he never had was one he wanted back in a big way. Bracing himself, he said, “Okay.”
“I was wondering if you could bring your fix-anything reputation out for a spin to my place and look at the tractor here on the ranch.”
Part of him wanted to say “no way,” but another part was ready to get there as fast as he could. Still, he was a civilian, a guest here, and that meant he needed to be especially polite to everyone because he owed the Stocktons.
“Look, Fiona, I don’t know if I’m the right guy—”
“Just a quick look. My dad usually can repair the ranch machinery but he’s stumped. I’ve called a repair shop in Kalispell but they can’t send someone for close to a week. It’s already October and winter is coming. There are time and weather-sensitive projects pending. You’d really be doing me a favor if you could swing by.”
That is a really bad idea, he thought. “I don’t know if that’s possible...” He let the words hang there, hoping she’d bail him out.
After several moments, she sighed. “That’s okay. It was just a thought. Apparently Luke mentioned to my father that you were handy with mechanical stuff and Dad asked me to call. But don’t worry about it. We’ll make do. Thanks anyway. I know you’re really busy.”
The disappointment in her voice grabbed him and wouldn’t let go. It felt like he’d just turned his back on a helpless kitten. Damn, hell and crap. “I’m not that busy. I’ll give it a look.”
“Really? I appreciate it so much. Thanks.”
He got directions, said he’d be right over, then disconnected the call and saved her number to his phone, shaking his head and muttering to himself. Suddenly Fiona O’Reilly had become his business and it ticked him off that Luke had been so right, so soon.
* * *
Fiona waited for Mr. Fix-it on the front porch. The interior of the O’Reilly family’s rambling ranch house wasn’t big enough for her and the nerves jumping around inside her. She hadn’t expected to see him at all and definitely not this soon. It made her wonder if fate was taking a page from Luke Stockton’s matchmaking book or just having a laugh at her expense.
She saw a black F-150 truck turn off the main road and head toward the house. That was a cue for the nerves to stop the jumping jacks, pull together and form a knot in her stomach. Why was she being such a twit? He was just another guy and didn’t even want to be here. She’d practically twisted his arm and he was simply doing it as a favor because she’d played the “Dad asked me to call you” card. Paddy O’Reilly would survive if Brendan had said no. But Brendan didn’t know that and now she had to see him.
The truck stopped in front of her and she noticed his Texas license plate in a United States Marine Corps frame. Pulling her denim jacket tighter against the chilly north wind, she left the porch to meet him as he exited the truck. Then he grabbed a red toolbox from the rear bed.
“Hey, thanks for coming.”
“No problem.” Politely he touched the brim of his Stetson. “If you’ll point me in the right direction, I’ll take a look at the tractor.”
“Can I get you a cup of coffee or anything? I’ve got an extra to-go mug. My father and brothers, Ronan and Keegan, use them all the time.” She was babbling and he was letting her. It wasn’t easy but she stopped talking.
“No coffee. Thanks anyway.”
“Okay. The tractor is parked in the shed down there next to the stable.”
“This is a nice spread,” he said as they walked. “I saw the sign as I drove in. Rusty Bucket Ranch. Interesting name.”
“Kind of whimsical but down to earth.” She smiled up at him. “My ancestors emigrated from Ireland. They made their living from the land and wanted to do that in America. So they came West and found this property. After buying it, as the tale goes, they had nothing left but a rusty bucket. The name stuck.”
“And they prospered.”
“Yeah. We have all this.” She gazed from the white, split rail corral fence and stable to the other ranch buildings and the barn her brothers had converted into their living space. “And
