“Well, that’s a bummer. It sounds like a blast.”
He shrugs. With eyes cast downward, he nudges a rock with the toe of his boot, kicking it into the shop. “He doesn’t like us talking about it. But I wish we still had them.”
I place my palm on his head, ruffling his hair. “Maybe someday, buddy.”
Walking through the doors, my eyes wander the shop. High beams and facades traverse the ceiling. The main lights across the beams are on instead of the two rustic black chandlers hanging over the floor. A staircase leads to a second-floor balcony with three doors.
There’s machinery everywhere—tractors, four-wheelers, a side-by-side, and…
“Oh my God, my truck,” I squeal.
My feet hastily carry me to the middle of the shop, where my truck is behind a tractor or vehicle of some sort with funky metal arms and a conveyor belt with bins. Tristan follows behind me. I plant my hands on the hood, my heart rapidly beating at the feel of the worn paint beneath my palms.
I was wondering what they were going to do with this. I figured it would get towed or something sitting on Main Street for so long, but it’s here.
“This is your car?” Tristan wrinkles his nose. “Why is it here?”
“Because your brothers…” I think over my words carefully, “are storing it for me since I don’t need it right now.” I peer around, my chest tightening. “Where did Elena go?”
“Up to see, Colten,” a deep voice startles me.
Judging by his tattoos and graying beard, a man in his mid-to-late fifties steps out from behind the odd piece of machinery blocking my truck inside the shop. He has a brewery T-shirt on, and his beer belly is stretching the material.
“Oh, um…thanks.” I eye him apprehensively.
I had no idea he was there. About gave me a damn heart attack.
“Hi, Johnny,” Tristan greets flatly with a single wave. “I’m going to go find Colten.”
No. No, please don’t leave me.
The man, Johnny, steps out farther from behind the corner of the vehicle with a torque wrench. His large, grimy hands, caked in oil and dirt, grip the handle. There’s a tire beside him, so I’m guessing he’s changing them, judging from the sound I heard before we came in.
I awkwardly sway on my feet, rubbing my clammy palms on the hood of my car. “I’m Taryn…the nanny.”
The corners of his gray eyes crinkle as he smiles kindly, his gaze steady on me. His resolute attention has me reaching up to adjust my black baseball hat nervously.
Great. Being stuck up on the hill is already making me an introvert.
“Don’t mind me,” he waves a hand, “I’ve worked at Lindenvale Hill Orchard for the past twelve years. Just wanted to say hello since I may see you around more.”
“It’s nice to meet—”
“Taryn.” Colten’s cavernous warning voice booms through the shop, raising the hairs on my neck.
I glance up in the direction it originated from. Colten is standing on the balcony, holding Elena in his arms as she rests on his hip. Rossco walks out of the room behind him, wagging his tail, and plops right down like he belongs there.
Hot damn.
If sexy looks could kill me, this one would. He’s in a white T-shirt and jeans caked with dirt, his hat backward. I swallow, noticing his strained, tatted muscles. I may be a floor below him, but I can see how the light catches on the dips and ripples in his flawless skin.
My ovaries do a little dance. He would be one hell of an attractive dad.
He practically is one.
“Taryn, can I see you in my office, please?” Colten’s husky command straightens my spine.
Yes, sir.
