“From me. Would you like pointers from me?”
He chuckles. “No thanks. I’ll be just fine.”
I drag my bottom teeth over my top lip to tamp down how insulting it feels that he so easily dismissed me. “I can help you.”
“I don’t need your help.” He moves away, showing me his back. Then he pauses, glances over his shoulder, and shoots me a pointed look. “Or your thanks.”
Heat immediately flares on my skin. The nerve of him, bringing up that kiss right now.
“Fine,” I snap. “Good luck. Don’t cut off your leg.”
I storm back across the yard, fists clenched to my sides, wolf whistles from the crowd filling the air.
I squeeze back between Clarice and Ron. Clarice eyes me carefully. “What’d you tell him, Rowe? You’re as red as a beet.”
“Nothing. I didn’t tell him one single thing.”
That man can cut his leg off for all I care.
“Have I missed anything?” Cristina asks, appearing with four coffees hugged by a cardboard holder.
“Nothing yet,” Ron says.
“Here’s your coffee, Clarice.”
“Come to Mama,” the older woman says, greedily taking the cup from my best friend.
“And one for you, Ron.”
“Thank you.”
I pause to stare accusingly at the woman who’s been my bestie since fourth grade, when her family moved to town. “You stopped to grab coffee for everyone?”
“Well, no. I was already there, and when Clarice told me about it, I said I’d get her one.”
“And then I overheard,” Ron admits sheepishly. “And you know I just can’t pass up a great cup along with good entertainment.”
Screw me.
“Don’t be jealous. Besides”—Cristina hands me a sleeve-wrapped cup—“I got one for you, too. I figured you’d need an extra-salted caramel mocha to deal with this.”
She’s not wrong. I take the mocha and sip it. It’s basically flavored sugar swirling in what is probably coffee, but it tastes like chocolate and caramel.
I thank Cristina as Ron nods toward the lumberyard. “Looks like he’s about to start.”
All heads swivel to Pane. I hold my breath as he tugs the pull start. The machine glugs for a second before dying.
“He’s gonna have to yank harder than that,” Ron murmurs before sipping his coffee.
“Work those arms,” Clarice yells.
Pane glances over, and even behind the visor, I see him frown.
“Put your earmuffs on!”
He awkwardly tugs down each side with one hand. Well, at least he took one suggestion from me. He then prepares to yank the pull start again.
Even though I’m pissed at him, I still cross my fingers.Please let him get this—for the sake of the farm, obviously.
