“Because it’s a tractor. A machine. And if you don’t know how to drive it, it’s dangerous.”
Fair points—all of them. “Okay, then can you do this for me?”
“I’ve got things to do,” he said, grinning wide as he gestured around the property. “Do you think this place takes care of itself?” In the barn, he removed the saddle from his horse.
“I’d pay you.” She tried to ignore the hint of desperation she heard in her tone.
He started brushing down his horse. “It’s not about money; it’s about time. And frankly, your money can’t buy my time.”
Oooh, he was infuriating. She squared her shoulders. “All right, then what will?”
“What do you mean?” He didn’t take his eyes off his horse as he rubbed him down.
“What do you want? For trade or payment?”
That pulled him away from his task. His gaze roamed from her feet up to her head, and a wicked gleam lit his eyes.
A nervous tingle ran down her spine.What on earth?
An idea seemed to occur to him, because he suddenly smirked. Dadgummit, what kind of position had she just gotten herself into?
He narrowed his eyes as if issuing a challenge, and a thrill washed over her skin. “Lemon bars,” he said.
She frowned. Lemon bars? Had she missed part of their conversation? “Huh?”
“You heard me.”
Was it weird she felt disappointed that it hadn’t been… something else? “Lemon bars?”
“Homemade ones—none of that store-bought crap.” He rolled back on his heels, his amusement increasing every time he opened his mouth. “You get me homemade lemon bars, and I’ll plow that field for you.”
Was he serious? “I’m sorry, you won’t do this for me as a favor? Or for pay? But you will forlemon bars?”
His expression went serious as he pointed out the door to his house. “Westbrooks are chocolate people, Zoey. Chocolate. I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but that’s all they ever want. But me, I want something different. Something zesty.” The twinkle in his eyes returned. “I want lemon bars.”
“I don’t know how to make lemon bars,” she admitted.
He shrugged and turned to leave. “Then no deal, I guess.”
She grabbed his thick-muscled arm, and a spark shot up hers.
His gaze dropped to where she held him, then slowly drifted up her arm to her face. He cocked a brow, a smirk overtaking his ridiculously handsome face. She lifted her chin. Fine. He wanted lemon bars? She’d get him lemon bars.
She dropped his arm and lifted a finger. “Hold up.”
He faced her again as she pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Cash. He and Jo had been nice enough to program in their numbers for her last week.
Cash answered on the second ring. “Zoey Carroll! How’s it going?” Cash’s cheery lilt eased some of the tension around her.
She smiled. How was it going? Not as smoothly as she’d expected, that’s how. “Good, Cash. How are you?”
Hunter's eyes went wide, and she suppressed a grin. Felt good to be on the other side of the mock grinning.
“Good,” Cash said. “What can I do you out of?”
“Lemon bars.”
“Got a taste of my beignets and now you need more baked goods, is that it?” Cash chuckled.
