please.” Dory tightened her ponytail, preparing for the work ahead. She might be useless in the kitchen, but out here…this was her world. “I bet I load as many boards as you do.”
One side of his mouth hiked up. “Get in. We’ll drive around to the back.”
She did as he asked, smug in the knowledge that she was going to surprise the heck out of him. She was in better shape than she looked. Often she’d hiked uphill for miles to get to a dig site, and then spent another two hours with shovel in hand. Loading lumber would be a vacation.
“Check the glove box,” Clint said as he steered the truck around the barn. “There might be some in there. If not, I might have a pair in my toolbox in the back.”
She opened the compartment, which was jammed with the truck manual, a package of beef jerky, binoculars, a couple of maps and a small box of condoms. Quickly she slammed the door and stared straight ahead as they rounded the barn.
“Nothing, huh?” He pulled the truck to a stop. “If we don’t find a pair, you can use mine.”
“A callus or two won’t kill me.” She jerked on the door handle, anxious to jump out, annoyed with herself for being so flustered. So what if he kept condoms in his glove box? Good to know he was responsible. Although it didn’t matter to her. Why should it?
“Wait a minute,” he said, and slid an arm across the seat back behind her shoulders.
Her chest tightened as he slowly turned his face toward hers, his warm moist breath brushing the side of her jaw. She blinked, frozen, not knowing what to do, before finally giving in and meeting his eyes. He flashed her a grin and then twisted around to look out the rear window as he backed the truck and trailer toward the pile of lumber.
She let out a whoosh of air, and before he cut the engine, she jumped out of the truck, willing the heat that stung her cheeks to subside. Had she totally gone out of her mind? She seriously needed some rest. How could she actually have believed for a second that he’d been about to kiss her?
“You okay?” He’d gotten out and come around the back of the trailer to stare at her, his green gaze warm with concern.
“Fine.” She looked away and nodded toward the daunting stacks of lumber. “That’s it?”
Clint chuckled. “That’s enough.” He lowered the truck’s tailgate, hopped up on the bed and went to a large metal toolbox anchored down behind the cab. After rooting around inside he produced a pair of tan leather gloves that he tossed to her.
She tried them on. They were too big but better than nothing.
He gathered the heavy-duty tie-down straps and bungee cords they’d brought and jumped off the bed. “I’m thinking I’ll load and you should get up there and make sure the boards stay stacked until we can strap them down.”
Dory smiled wryly, knowing that he was trying to keep her task light. “How about we both load and then worry about securing them?”
He studied her for a moment. “Hugh is the Reynoldses’ foreman. He’s the only one in the barn. If he sees you working, he’s gonna want to come out and help. The guy turned seventy last month and has a bad back.”
“Then quit talking and let’s get this done before he sees me.” She adjusted her gloves and tried to pick up four boards at once, but quickly found that her limit was three.
Clint mumbled something she couldn’t hear, and then more clearly said, “You stick to the trailer, and I’ll load the truck.”
She didn’t argue. With the trailer being lower to the ground it was easier for her to stack the boards and she’d be better able to keep up with his pace. On the negative side, given the distance between them, the capacity to ogle him as he worked was far greater. Unfortunately, she found the temptation hard to ignore with the way the worn denim of his jeans molded his leans hips and appealing backside.
Though after forty minutes working under the broiling afternoon sun, her thoughts pretty much narrowed to finishing the job. She was tired and thirsty and only sheer stubbornness drove her to keep picking up boards and swinging them onto the trailer. The steady rhythm she’d engaged was hypnotic, and when Clint called out for her to take a break, he startled her. She spun toward his voice, the movement dizzyingly fast, and she felt her body sway.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Yep, fine.” She grabbed the trailer railing for support.
He pulled off his gloves and got them each a bottle of water from the truck’s cab. “Here.”
“Thanks.” She fumbled with the cap and then greedily downed two large gulps so fast that it made her chest hurt.
“Take it easy,” he said, touching her arm. “You shouldn’t let yourself get that thirsty.”
She nodded. “I know better.” The warmth of his skin on hers did nothing to help clear her head, so she moved her arm away.
Confusion flickered in his gaze and he seemed about to say something when they heard the pounding of hooves coming in their direction.
“Clint!”
Dory squinted into the sunlight and saw a woman riding toward them, her pale blond hair streaming behind her in the breeze. Her face flushed, the blonde reined in the beautiful brown-and-white horse, stopping the animal only several feet from where they stood. She leaped down and rushed to throw her arms around Clint.
His arms instantly came up to lift her in the air. “Why, Sara Lynn, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, grinning as he swept her in a circle before setting her back on the ground. “Every time I think you can’t possibly get any prettier, you go and prove me dead wrong.”
Laughing, she swatted his arm. “You always say that.”
“Only because it’s the God’s honest truth.”
The young woman groaned good-naturedly and smiled at Dory, curiosity sparkling in her blue eyes. “Hi, I’m Sara.”
“Dory Richards,” she said, extending her hand.
Sara accepted her offering, briefly wincing when Dory squeezed too hard.
Mentally kicking herself, Dory promptly released her. She tried not to look at Clint but caught the amused curve of his mouth out of the corner of her eye.
“When did you come home?” he asked Sara.
“Just yesterday. I couldn’t miss the Fourth of July shindig, now could I?” She looped an arm through his, her cheeks tinted a becoming pink and gazed up at him with undisguised adoration.
Feeling like a fifth wheel, Dory turned back to loading the trailer. The younger woman couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty, but she clearly had a mile-wide crush on Clint. Probably just his type, too, a real girlie girl. Even after having been out riding, her makeup was perfect, her hair tousled to perfection by the breeze, and for heaven’s sake, her jeans still had a crease in them.
“Hey, Dory. Relax a minute.” Clint took the boards from her hands. “You’re going to get overheated.”
“I’ll
