Hart's Hollow Farm (New Americana 4)

A broad smile broke out across Sadie’s face. One last quick glance up at Kristen, then she bounded toward Mitch, her long brown hair rippling out behind her.

Mitch’s gorgeous eyes lifted and met Kristen’s. He watched her for a moment, then mouthed, “Thank you,” and grinned. His warm, approving gaze teased a smile from her in return.

And that alone made getting involved, just this once, more than worth it.

Over the next hour, Mitch, Dylan, and Kristen hitched up the planter—a wide green and black frame with twelve yellow buckets and two large tanks—and dumped opened seed bags in each hopper as Sadie pulled the empty bags away, and then Mitch and Kristen filled the tanks with liquid fertilizer. When that was complete, they took a step back to catch their breath.

The sun had cleared the horizon, its rays beaming across the bare fields in the distance, drying the dew on the grass beneath their feet and seeping past Kristen’s clothes to heat her skin. Sweat trickled down her back, and a gnat stung the corner of her eye. She batted it away, then wiped the droplets of sweat from her upper lip with the scooped collar of her shirt.

“Good man, Dylan. You did a great job. Mind taking Sadie back to the house for me?” Mitch ruffled Dylan’s hair, then squatted and hugged Sadie. “What a big help you were, sweet Sadie.”

Beaming, Sadie wrapped her small arms around his neck, kissed his cheek, and skipped to Dylan’s side. “Thanks, Uncle Mitch.”

“Think I could drive the tractor some?” Dylan asked.

“Not this one,” Mitch said. “Tomorrow, once I get Emmy’s tractor ready, you can give it a whirl.”

Dylan nodded, something that looked very similar to excitement lighting his eyes. “Okay. Come on, Sadie.”

They left, Sadie clutching Dylan’s hand and humming.

“Time to hit the field.” Mitch blotted his flushed face with the tail of his T-shirt, flashing the toned expanse of his sculpted abs and a small sprinkling of dark hair that arrowed down toward his lean, jean-clad hips.

Skin heating even more, Kristen spun around and walked to the tractor’s steps.

“Hold up.”

She stopped, one foot on the bottom step.

“You’re gonna need this.” He stopped, grabbed an empty seed bag, and held it up. “Lee’s seeds and fields are different, and he just added a new receiver, so you’re going to have to reconfigure the equipment. Take a look and tell me how many seeds per pound.”

He tossed the bag to her, and she caught it, then turned it over a time or two until she found the information. “One thousand, six hundred and ninety-five.” A gnat tickled the corner of her mouth. She puffed out a breath to dislodge it. “What do we need that for?”

He smiled. “To set the vacuum.”

“Vacuum?”

“Yep. For pulling the seed.” He walked over and motioned for her to precede him up the steps. “Tear that bit off, chuck the bag, and I’ll show you a thing or two.”

A thing or two turned out to be about a thousand things. After they sat in each of the two leather seats inside the air-conditioned cab, Kristen in the driver’s position and Mitch by her side, there was a receiver and modem that needed attention, and two small monitors and one tablet mounted by Kristen’s seat. Information had to be entered, and measurements calculated, then confirmed once more outside the tractor with a measuring tape. Accuracy was critical.

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sp; “So the planter will know when to start and stop planting when it’s supposed to,” Mitch explained.

The GPS and maps had to be cleared and reset, and displays on the monitors had to be rechecked to ensure each field of data populated correctly.

“All right.” Mitch motioned toward a large panel with an assortment of buttons. “Let’s fire up the seed units and give ’em a turn or two.”

After being walked through another brief review of all the buttons’ functions, Kristen pressed one to turn the seed units, then jumped as a series of loud beeps filled the cab.

Mitch laughed. “Easy. It’s only doing what you asked it to.” He reached out, and his strong fingers moved over one of the monitor’s touch screens. “One measurement’s a bit off. Let’s work on that again.”

After making more adjustments to the equipment, Mitch led her through the steps to fold up the planter and put the tractor in transport mode. “When we get to your field, I’ll show you how to make sure the planter’s level. For now, let’s take a ride.” He gestured toward the dirt driveway on the right. “You remember how to get there from here?”

Kristen hesitated, her hands tightening around the steering wheel. “Yeah, but you trust me with this thing? Maybe you should get us there first, so I don’t . . . I don’t know . . .” She glanced at the wide road winding around Emmy’s front lawn and cringed. “Hit Emmy’s house.”

His deep chuckle reverberated in the cab. “You chickening out on me?”