usually be counted on for sounds in a pitch only dogs could hear, were mirroring the adults around them and staring.
You could cut the awkwardness with a butter knife. Poor Mr. Tanner looked as if he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. She had to do something.
“I’m starving. Let’s get the food going.” Fiona started to grab her macaroni casserole, but it was as big as the state of Rhode Island. Instantly Brendan reached out and lifted it for her. She put some on her plate and his. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
As if a switch had been flipped, everyone was taking food and passing platters around. Attention had been successfully diverted away from them.
Her relief was a little premature because when everyone had filled their plates it got quiet again. She said the first thing that popped into her mind. “So, Brendan, where did you learn to fix things?”
He finished chewing and swallowed before answering. “My dad taught me.”
“He must be very proud of you,” Fiona said.
“He was. He passed away not too long ago.”
“I’m sorry.” The words were automatic and felt so inadequate when a sort of sad, haunted look slipped into his eyes.
“Thanks.”
“I haven’t seen anything that Brendan can’t repair,” Luke said. “Your dad must have been a good teacher, and the skill he gave you is invaluable.”
Brendan looked thoughtful. “Funny you should say that. We didn’t have much, but dad’s knack for patching up what people threw out or paid him to fix put food on the table.”
“An honest living,” one of the men said.
“I suppose.” He looked down at the full plate of food in front of him. “Necessity was the mother I didn’t have.”
It was like a curiosity bomb went off in Fiona’s head. Follow-up questions exploded in her mind. But one of the triplets—Jared—made a bomb of his own and Fallon excused herself to change him.
The moment for interrogation passed when Hudson started talking to Brendan about horses. In Rust Creek Falls, that was like guys discussing cars anywhere else. It turned out that Brendan had worked on ranches in Texas for extra money. Was there anything he couldn’t do?
That wasn’t something she was going to ask. The less she knew about Brendan Tanner the better. She would bet he had a sad story, one that would engage her emotions. But he was a stranger and by his own admission was only in town temporarily. Matchmakers could throw them together until hell wouldn’t have it but they couldn’t make her play along.
Not again.
Last night’s dinner ranked up there as one of the best meals Brendan ever had. He’d eaten enough to feed a whole platoon. The Stocktons were friendly and caring folks who opened their farm to a stranger looking for a fresh start and they kept on giving. He was grateful for that. If not for Fiona O’Reilly, he could check off every box of a perfect evening.
It was bad enough that she made the best macaroni and cheese he’d ever tasted, but she was also the sexiest mac-and-cheese maker he’d ever met. Her eyes were beautiful. That curvy body had him itching to touch her. And her smile promised heaven at the same time it sent him to hell. All night.
When he hadn’t tossed and turned from thinking about her, he’d been dreaming about having her in his bed. She was whip smart and wickedly funny, which was an irresistible combination. It meant danger up ahead, but only if he chose to go down that road. All he had to do was take a detour and avoid her.
That took care of his conscious mind. With luck the warning would filter down to his subconscious and keep her out of his dreams. He was a tumbleweed and she had deep roots here in Montana. Smart money was on sticking to his plan: get back in shape and reenlist in the Marine Corps where he belonged.
After an early morning run and workout, he went to the barn. Sunshine Farm made no demands on its guests but Brendan hated feeling useless and had gotten in the habit of helping feed the stock every morning. Today was no exception. He walked into the stable and grabbed a pitchfork to help spread hay for the horses.
Luke walked over and jammed his own long-handled tool into the bale. “Morning.”
“Back at you.”
“Glad you decided to join us for dinner last night. Any regrets?”
A few. None of which he’d talk about. “Best meal I’ve had in a long time.”
“Did I lie about the macaroni and cheese?”
“No.” Last night he’d been full and had still taken another helping. Eating for pleasure, which included the pleasure of rubbing elbows with the lady who’d made it.
“So, what do you think of Fiona?”
What did he think? Brendan was pretty sure that he was thinking about her more than he should be, and in ways that he didn’t want to. “I think she makes a mean macaroni.”
“Seriously? That’s it?”
“What else?” He sighed. “She seems nice.”
“I think she’s interested in you,” Luke commented. “Looked to me like there was a sparkle in her eyes when she stole glances at you.”
She was stealing glances at him? That didn’t suck. Then he shook his head. “You’re imagining things.”
“Nope. Eva saw it, too.”
“You talked to your wife about this?”
“We talk about everything. She’s my best friend, and then some,” Luke said. “Besides, in Rust Creek Falls, talking and spreading news is how we roll.”
He remembered Fiona saying something like that. “I think you’re both imagining things.”
“I disagree.”
“For the sake of argument, let’s say you’re right. The question is, why me? I’m boring.”
“You’re new in town and single. And—don’t take this the wrong way—but you’re not a bad-looking guy.”
“Stop. I’m blushing.” The corners of his mouth curved up.
Luke laughed. “And Fiona is single, too.”
“A woman who looks like her must have men lined up around the block.”
“Not so much.”
Brendan stuck his pitchfork in the bale of hay and leaned on it as he looked at the other man. “Why?”
“You’ll have to ask her that.”
No,
