“Cuz, remember why she’s here?” Yet he couldn’t resist a quick glance back. She was looking at him in her sideview as the music pumped. Party girl.
“That didn’t stop you from making out with her on your counter like she was water and you were dehydrated.”
Tyler exhaled. Scoured his face. Stopped and turned to give T.R. his full attention. He wasn’t going to live this down. If he and Heather had any more “encounters,” he’d have to lock the doors.
“More importantly, you like her,” Thad pressed. “And ain’t that some shit, Mister Celibate.”
He spotted the brake lights flash on over his shoulder as Heather shifted the truck into drive.
“We got this. Take the afternoon off, bro, you need it. Between Isabella screwing you over”—Tyler’s jaw tightened at the mention of Isabella, which didn’t happen often—“Seth giving you a hard time, and Fossyl being impossible about those grasshoppers, I ain’t seen you smile except when you looked at her just now…”
He’d smiled? He hadn’t realized it. Tyler ripped his hat off and raked his hand through his hair. “I don’t feel right putting the burden on you after yesterday—”
“Look, I’m your foreman for a reason, right? Remember what we agreed on? I’d take over the farm’s reins so you could keep your legal practice on life support?” Yeah, that had worked out so well. “So let me do my job for a change, and you go for a spin. That’s all it is, right? Just a drive in her shiny-ass piece of metal? She ain’t filling out a job application for stepmom, is she?”
God no. Even though she liked kids and sounded as if she respected them, even though she’d cracked Mordor jokes and juggled soccer balls like a pro, and he knew Stevie would think she was cool—Cut this line of thinking. Why the hell was he factoring Heather Carvalho into some happy family fantasy when Isabella had made sure that wouldn’t be possible? He knew nothing about her, except what she did for a living and that she lacked organizational skills, that she had a penchant for butterflies, and that she somehow felt responsibility or guilt for her own family not being close… He could relate to that.
“This farm belonged to my grandparents, too, and your bros, for that matter. You don’t have a monopoly on that,” Thad muttered more solemnly. “You don’t gotta do it all, all the time.”
Indecision warred. Dammit, he wanted to cut loose. Heather was only here for the week. He glanced back again. The truck started to roll into drive.
“Get lost, man.” Thad walked ahead of him. “Or maybe I should hop in that truck and take off with her instead? I mean, T. rex is a helluva nickname. Maybe she does like me—”
Tyler turned on his heel and grunted a disapproving frown as Thad chuckled at his back. But it was all the compulsion he needed. His boots jogging toward the truck. He jumped up onto the tailgate to catch it as it picked up speed.
Sensing or seeing him, Heather slammed on the brakes and he lurched forward, almost rolling over the gate and into the bed but quickly dropped down on his haunches to brace himself. With two little brothers and the three of them growing up wild on the Legacy Ranch, this wasn’t his first rodeo jumping onto moving trucks.
Her door swung open.
“Tyler Dixon, you got a death wish?” she shouted, hands on her hips. “Or are you just trying to give me a driving record on day one?”
He grinned, taking in her perturbed look and surprisingly maternal stance, eyes lingering on the fists balled at her waist. “Changed my mind.”
She shook her head, glanced at his grinning mouth, at a loss for words, then grinned right back. So pretty. Her eyes glistened, so wide and shimmery. She bit that kissable lip of hers that he wanted to suck. “Well, get in.”
*
“You got afield plowed up that doesn’t have cows or crops or wildlife?” Heart called over the open windows and blasting music.
Tyler furrowed his brow, turning the music down as she accelerated down the road bisecting two of his pastures. “What for?”
She turned the music back up, the wind blowing in through the window and ruffling her hair looser from her pencil knot so that mahogany waves fluttered around her suntanned face. “To spin donuts of course!”
“What?” he nearly gasped.
She raised her eyes skyward and shook her head, calling over the wind, “I gotta christen this bad boy with some dirt, and I don’t want to freak out your cattle or tear up any wildlife!”
“An ethical rebel,” he chuckled, shook his head, then pointed, though she noticed that boyish grin he kept well-hidden flash. “Up ahead. Made a dirt track for my boys.”
She spied his hand tighten on the oh-shit handle an increment and revved over the gravel, onto the backhoed stretch of dirt he’d indicated, over the remnants of dirt bike tracks that the storm hadn’t erased. They rolled to a stop in the center, overlooking the rim of the escarpment that stretched miles across his land. She turned the music up even louder and hit the gas, cranking the wheel. The truck lurched to a stop as the pencils finally tumbled out of her hair and her tresses cascaded down her shoulders, flying around her face.
“Shit!” Tyler yelled, slamming his hand on the polished dashboard and hoisting himself into a one-armed pull-up on the hand grip as his seat belt locked. Heather laughed, shaking her head, tried it again, wedging her tires in the dirt, and they lurched to a stop. “Do you have any clue what you’re doing? You’re gonna get this beast stuck, and I’m going to have to haul another one of your trucks with my tow chain!”
She threw the truck in park, still laughing. “No. But I wanted to try! I could probably find a YouTube video about it…” She pulled out her phone and tapped the internet icon.
Tyler shook his head in her periphery. And turned the music down again like a crotchety old man who wanted kids off his lawn.
“You’re gonna be the death of some poor guy when you decide you finally want to settle down, Heather.”