As she straightened the kitchen, gathering cups and shoes, Ty returned from Roger’s place. Betsy thought of the meager amount of food he sometimes kept in the barn office for days when he couldn’t make it up to the house to eat lunch. It was nothing more than a few bags of chips. Maybe an apple. She deposited the cups in the sink and the shoes by the back door. After a quick check on Walsh upstairs, she ducked out the back door, a Tervis cup of iced tea in one hand and a pimento-cheese sandwich in a brown paper bag.
She spotted him out by the back fence shielding his eyes from the bright sun. The tractor moved slowly out in the field, and three men stood close to it in a group, peering at the ground as if it were a crystal ball. As she drew closer, Ty turned and walked back into the barn from the other side, his stride purposeful and quick. She entered the doors and smiled. “Hi,” she called. She crossed the floor and met him near his office.
He looked up and grinned. A sheen of sweat covered his top lip and brow. She reached up and brushed a few specks of grass out of his hair. His hair was still as thick and blond as it had been in college, except now he had patches of gray at his temples. She loved that gray as much as she loved the crease in his forehead.
“Whatcha got in that bag?” he asked.
She held it out to him. “I brought you a sandwich. And tea.” She passed the glass to him and he drank half of it in two gulps.
“You’re an angel. Thanks.” He took the bag from her hand. “Whatever this is, it’s much better than what I would have been eating.”
“What’s going on with the tractor?”
“Belt’s worn out. It made it through spring planting, but we have to fix it before harvest when we’re dodging storms. Speaking of, Roger’s bringing some extra plywood when he brings the spare part for the tractor. I want to cover some of the upper windows of the barn.”
“Already? There’s not a storm out there, is there?” Betsy usually paid close attention to the weather reports, but in the chaos of the last couple of days, she’d forgotten to check. She’d never admit it to Ty, because big storms meant a possible loss of milk, but she always felt a rush of excitement when tropical storms rolled in. Hurricanes, not so much. But it was possible for a tropical storm to bring nothing but strong breezes, cooling rain, and an excuse for Betsy to hole up with a book in the front window. She was almost embarrassed by how much she liked them.
He shook his head. “Doesn’t hurt to go ahead and have everything in place though. Things could get ugly later in the summer. The Gulf waters are heating up early.”
Betsy peered at him, trying to detect the level of his nerves. The hurricane he went through with his grandfather years ago was always in the back of his mind, pushing him to do all he could to keep the farm safe. “Warm water isn’t a good sign.”
“Nope.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then took another swig of tea. “The girls in the house?”
“They’re both asleep. The morning wore them out.”
He glanced back out the door of the barn.
“I’ll let you get back to work then.” She backed away, but he reached out and tugged her hand.
“Come here.” He pulled her to him.
“What?” she asked, but she already knew. His eyes always gave him away.
“Seeing you out here earlier this morning, all I wanted to do was this, but we had those extra little eyes around.” His lips met hers. A little salty, but warm and familiar. His hand went to the small of her back, pulling her hips toward his.
“Ty.” She looked over his shoulder. Walker was just outside the barn, his fingers dancing across the screen of his iPhone. He was oblivious to anything except the message he was typing, but Carlos and the others could return any minute.
“Don’t worry about them. They’ll be out back until Roger gets here.” He kissed her again, the prickles around his mouth bothering her, but only a little bit. “Right about now, I’m pretty glad we decided to put that couch in the office.”
She pulled back and opened her eyes. “You aren’t serious.” One corner of his mouth pulled up. She thumped him on his chest. “You’re crazy. No way.”
“I’ll be quick.” His cheeks reddened when she smiled. “We can be fast. Discreet.” He raised his eyebrows.
Betsy bit her lip. “I don’t think so. I’d rather not shock the cows.” She looked over his shoulder again. “Or Walker.”
Ty kept his gaze on her, his mouth and eyes caught somewhere between hope and disappointment. Finally, he looked down at his boots, scuffed one on the ground. “Definitely wouldn’t want to shock anyone. Maybe . . .” He took a breath.
“What?” She pulled close to him again, her stomach twisting into a tight ball of desire and embarrassment.
He shook his head, then kissed her cheek. “Nothing. I’ll see you later.”
Etta bounded into the barn and twined between Betsy’s legs. Betsy reached down and scratched her head, then turned toward the door, Etta in step next to her.
“Betsy?” Ty called.
She turned to face him.
“Thanks for the lunch,” he said after only the briefest hesitation.
Betsy had fallen in love with Ty’s neck first. The back of it, to be specific. Then his forearms—thick, strong, blond hair fuzzing freckled skin.
