“Do you think I can’t keep my hands off you?” She kept her tone light and teasing, even though nervous energy was churning its way through her stomach. “Is your ego really that big?”
His jaw snapped tight, and he stepped back, abruptly slamming the car door.
Katrina let out a breath of relief.
He yanked open the driver’s door, dropped into the seat, started the engine and peeled out of the driveway, leaving a rooster tail of dust and small stones.
Katrina rocked against the passenger door, then flew upright. She grappled with her seat belt, fastening it tight and low across her hips.
Neither of them spoke for a good half hour as they wound their way along the rutted dirt-and-grass road up through the trees to where the pastures fanned out on the higher rangelands. Reed shifted the truck into four-wheel drive, and Katrina hung on as they traversed a shallow creek.
“Is this going to be a long, silent ride?” she finally asked.
“This was always going to be a long silent ride. I expected to be alone.”
“Well, good news,” she announced brightly. “I can make small talk and entertain you.”
He shifted to a lower gear, pointing the truck up a steep, muddy rise. “I guess the cocktail-party circuit had to come in handy at some point.”
“That’s where you want to go? Insulting me?”
“I don’t want to
“You’re lying.”
“Okay,” he allowed. “It was a joke.”
“It wasn’t funny.”
He quirked a half smile. “I thought it was.”
“You’re not a very nice man, Reed Terrell.”
He looked her way for a long moment.
She glanced to the rutted road, to Reed, and back again. There was a curve coming up. She waited for him to turn his attention to driving. “Uh, Reed.”
“I’m not a nice man,” he confirmed softly. “And you should remember that.” Then he glanced out the windshield and made an abrupt left turn.
Katrina was forced to hold on tight again. “I’m not afraid of you, Reed.”
“That’s okay. I’m scared enough for the both of us.”
Katrina didn’t know how to respond to that. The idea of Reed being afraid of anything was patently absurd.
A long time later, the truck rocked to a halt on the dirt road, an aspen grove fanning out on the downhill side, and a steeper hill running up the other.
Reed shut off the engine. “We’ll have to walk it from here.”
“Walk?”
He pushed the driver’s door open. “Unless you want to wait here. I shouldn’t be more than a few hours.”
“No, no.” She reached for her own door handle. “Walking is fine.” Luckily, she’d worn comfortable runners. Her midcalf, low-rise tights weren’t perfect for bushwhacking, neither was her tank top, but she gamely hopped from the seat.
Reed retrieved a worn leather tool belt from the box of the truck, strapping it around his waist, stuffing a hammer, tape measure, screwdrivers, wrenches and pliers into the loops and pockets. Then he tucked some lengths of rod and pipe beneath his arm, hoisted out a battered red toolbox and turned for a trail that wound up the side of the hill.
Katrina quickly fell into step with him. “You want me to carry anything?”
He snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“I was just trying to be helpful.”
His long strides were incredibly efficient, and she had to work to keep up.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Let’s not pretend you’re going to be any use as a pack animal.”
“Let’s not pretend you’re going to give me a break.”
“You should have stayed back at the ranch house.”
The trail grew steeper, and, as they neared the crest, she was forced to grasp at the branches of trees to pull herself forward. “And miss all this?”
Reed stood tall on the top of the ridge, a sloping meadow splayed out before them, falling away to a deep valley before rising to the next hilltop.
Katrina sucked in a few breaths. “There’s a well up here?”
Reed pointed north along the ridgeline. “It pumps into a pond around the bend. The cattle like it up here in late summer. This meadow catches the prevailing wind and that keeps the bugs down. But if there’s no water source, they have to trek all the way back to the river.”
“See that, you are a nice guy.”
“I’m a practical guy.” His gazed scanned her. “You doing okay?”
“Perfectly fine.”
“Your ankle?”
“Almost better.”
“Okay.” He started along the uneven ridge, quickly outpacing her and drawing away.
If she’d hoped to engage him in a conversation, it wasn’t going to work out. Reed was obviously determined to keep her at a distance. Not that she knew what to say. Just getting him alone had proven so difficult she hadn’t formulated much of a plan beyond that.
After hiking for nearly an hour, they came to a muddy-bottomed pond beneath a twenty-foot windmill tower. The wind had picked up, and the whirring, clunking noise of the windmill made conversation difficult.
Reed set down the toolbox and began inspecting the arms that connected the pump to the windmill. A complex series of tubes and connections ran between the two. After a few moments, he selected a wrench and pulled hard on what seemed to be a stubborn bolt. It broke free, and he disconnected the mechanism.
Now that Katrina was standing still, she began to cool off. It didn’t help that the sun had disappeared behind a thick layer of cloud; they were completely exposed to the wind here on the ridge. She had to fight off the odd mosquito, but she didn’t dare complain. Instead, she gritted her teeth while Reed worked his way through whatever problem he’d discovered.
When the rain started, Reed swore.
He turned to look at Katrina, then he did a double take. “Are you cold?”
“I’m fine,” she responded, but her teeth were chattering.
Reed dropped a big wrench, swore again, and stalked toward her. As he’d done when he found her on the trail with her broken bicycle, he stripped off his shirt.
“I don’t need-”
“Shut up.”
“I’m sorry,” she found herself saying, even as the warmth of his cotton shirt wrapped around her. She tugged the ends together and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Sit down,” he told her. “It’ll be less windy if you’re low to the ground.” Then he glanced up at the sky and heaved a frustrated sigh. “You shouldn’t have come up here.”
“I’m fine,” she repeated, perching herself on a clump of meadow grass. He was right, sitting down did help to keep her out of the wind. Now, if only the rain would stop.
But the rain didn’t stop, and the more it rained, the more frustrated Reed became, and the more colorful the language coming out of his mouth. As the rain turned to a downpour, the wrenches kept slipping from his hands. He was obviously having trouble seeing clearly, and he dropped something. He peered into the mud, feeling his way around the tufts of grass.
After a long search, he tossed the wrench to the ground. “Damn it! Katrina, I can’t let go of this. You’re going to have to help.”
She came to her feet, his wet shirt hanging loosely to midthigh. “What should I do?”
He took what seemed to be a calming breath. “Look in the toolbox. Lift out the top tray and see if you can find a nut-and-bolt set. It’s better if it has some washers.”
