SETH WALKER CURSED a streak bluer than the truck’s oil-heavy exhaust as he slid out from under the chassis and blinked in the morning sun. Dammit. This was not going to be an easy repair. He’d have to call the garage. Arrange a tow. And figure out how the hell he was going to manage to pay for either when his bank account balance hovered somewhere between pathetic and desperate.
He plucked his shades from his shirt pocket, jammed them back into place and reached for his phone. He’d find a way. If he didn’t have a truck, he couldn’t make his deliveries. And if he couldn’t make his deliveries, he couldn’t see Ivy.
The clutch in his chest had him shaking his head. Maybe that would be a good thing, considering what he planned to tell her.
Then again, maybe she wouldn’t care.
After dialing the garage, he lifted the phone to his ear and turned away from the road. Traffic was sparse, but the occasional passing car still made it difficult to hear. He wandered to the edge of a vineyard that stretched all the way to Lake Erie, a hazy strip of blue in the distance bordered by the lighter blue of the sky and the vibrant green of the grapevines. Off to the left, a yellow monster of a harvester straddled a row of vines. As it lumbered through the crop, it shook the purple grapes onto a conveyer belt that led to a massive storage bin in the back. Seth had been up close and personal with a harvester more than once while making his deliveries, and he didn’t know how the drivers did it. They had to climb a ladder just to get to the cab. He liked his steering wheels closer to the ground.
He made arrangements for a tow while breathing in the sweet scent of Concord juice, pressed End and dialed again. One call down, two to go.
His thumb hovered over the send button. He exhaled. Screw pride. All he had to do to save himself the cost of a rental was call in a favor. And suck up the ribbing next time he got together with the guys.
Joe Gallahan answered the phone, saying, “Your ass better not be backing out of poker night, ’cause I’m feeling lucky.”
“You’re feeling lucky ’cause you’re getting lucky.”
“Hey, that’s my wife you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, well, she’s lucky, too.”
Joe snorted. “I can feel myself being hit up for a favor.”
“You always were a sensitive kind of guy.”
“Kiss my ass. Now, what do you need?”
Less than a minute later, Joe had agreed to lend out his truck for the two to three days it would take the mechanic to fix Seth’s ride.
“Hang tight,” Joe said. “I’m on my way.”
Two down, one to go.
Bradley answered on the first ring. “’Sup.”
“Try again,” Seth growled.
A protracted sigh, then, “Tweedy’s Feed and Seed, how may I help you?”
“Better.”
“Dude. Why do I have to answer your calls like that? You’re the owner. You should know the name of your own business by now.”
“Cute.” Seth turned back to his truck. If only he could afford to abandon the damned thing. “I’m stuck at the side of Route 5, waiting for a tow. The brake line’s leaking. Joe’s going to lend us his pickup so we can handle deliveries until Pete can breathe life back into Bertha here.”
“That sucks. About Bertha, I mean, not about Joe.”
“Point is, I’ll be late getting back to the store. You okay watching the kids till I get there?”
“Not a prob. Or you could let me make the deliveries.”
“I got it.”
“You sure? Because I don’t mind. Anyway, isn’t it my turn to deliver to the dairy farm?”
In your dreams, kid. “You don’t get a turn at the dairy farm.”
“I used to. And, dude, I know Ivy misses me. Just the other day, she told me how much she misses me. I saw her at the post office and she came up to me and said, ‘Oh, Bradley—’” the kid started talking in a high-pitched voice, though God only knew why he added the Southern accent “‘—I’ve missed you so much, Bradley, you big, strong, handsome hunk of man, you—’” Abruptly, Bradley switched back to his normal voice. “Sorry, Mrs. Macfarland, I didn’t see you standing there. Weed killer? Try aisle three.” He got back on the phone. “Awk-ward.”
Seth didn’t know whether to laugh or groan, so he did both. “Stop tormenting my customers. And don’t forget to dust.”
“Give my love to Ivy,” Bradley said, and disconnected.
Not long after, Joe pulled up. Seth climbed into the passenger seat and stuck out his hand. “I appreciate this.”
“No sweat. I can always use Allison’s car if I need to run errands.”
“How’s she doing?”
As he pulled back out onto the highway, Joe gave his head a shake that failed to dislodge his goofy grin. “She’s great,” he said. “Just great.”
“Glad to hear it. I know the motel’s doing well. Whenever I drive by, the parking lot’s full.”
“That website she put together is really bringing in the business.”
“The renovations must have helped, too. I still hear horror stories about the turquoise ceilings.”
“Bet you hear more about the python behind the wall.”
Seth didn’t have to fake his shudder. “I’d rather talk about the ceilings.”
“I know what you’d rather talk about. Or should I say who. Ivy still thinking about opening a riding school?”
Seth frowned. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Allison. Ivy asked her advice on creating an ‘online presence.’” Joe glanced over at Seth and winced. “Damn, man, I’m sorry. I figured you knew. You’re at the farm all the time.”
“I’m at the farm when I have a delivery to make.”
“That’s all there is to it?”
“She’s determined to keep things casual.” Which was a never-ending source of frustration for him. They’d met a year ago, when he and his kids had moved to town and he’d taken over the feed store. The tall blonde fascinated him. She was industrious, smart, sexy and playful—a constant tease to the deliberate side of his personality. Unfortunately, she was also determined to keep their relationship shallow. He’d been just as determined to coax her toward the deep