Loving The Country Boy (Barrett's Mill Book 4) (6 page)

If he brought it up, she’d have the perfect opening to blast him again. But he’d obviously hurt her, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he didn’t at least try to make things right with her.

Moving toward her, he took a deep breath and braced himself for a good old-fashioned dressing down. “Tess, I was outta line earlier. I’m real sorry.”

As if he’d flipped some unseen switch, her eyes narrowed with that infamous Barrett temper, and she met him in the middle of the floor. Most folks were intimidated by his size, whether or not they’d come out and admit it. But not this woman, he noticed with honest admiration. They were steel toe to moccasin, staring at each other, and she hadn’t even flinched.

“No one talks to me that way,” she informed him in a calm voice that seemed very much at odds with her steely glare. Then, in the space it took him to blink, that harsh look mellowed into something else entirely, and she gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Excuse me?” Having prepared himself for a scolding, he was convinced he hadn’t heard that right.

“I needed to hear it, but the family walks on eggshells around me, afraid to say the wrong thing. I’m sure they’ll appreciate you taking the hit for them,” she added with a wry grin.

“So you’re not mad?”

“Oh, I’m mad,” she corrected him sweetly. “But you were right, and I’m grown up enough to admit that.”

Considering how badly their touchy conversation might have gone, this result suited him much better. Heath decided it was best to leave things as they were and move forward from here. Tapping one of the ledgers she held, he asked, “What’re these?”

“Maintenance logs for everything from the old adding machines to these monsters in here. They go back to when the mill was first built, and Chelsea keeps them in the lobby display for folks to leaf through. I thought you might find something helpful in them.”

“Great idea,” he approved, shaking his head with a grin. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

She made a show of looking at the beamed ceiling, searching for the answer. When her eyes landed back on him, they glittered in fun. “Because men have a genetic aversion to reading instructions?”

“Got me there, magpie.”

As she handed over the manuals, she tilted her head with a puzzled expression. “What did you call me?”

“Magpie. You can find them in Canada, which is where I know them from. They’re pretty birds that always seem to have a lot to say.” It occurred to him that the assessment might not appeal to her, and he said, “You remind me of one, but if you don’t like it, I’ll quit.”

“No, I like it. It’s just that I’ve never had a nickname before.”

“Why not?”

“I guess no one ever cared enough to give me one.”

Her wistful look made him want to take her in his arms and remind her that whatever bad things had happened to her were safely locked in the past. He managed not to do it, but it was a near thing. As he watched her stroll back through the door, a single disturbing thought was blaring like an alarm siren in his mind.

Man, was he in trouble.

Chapter Five

I
t was long past dark by the time Tess caught up with everything she needed to do. Chelsea hadn’t been kidding about the amount of work that had been piling up, she thought as she stood and stretched out her sore back. It didn’t help that she was unfamiliar with the software, and Paul’s pathological disorganization was a constant roadblock. Actually, she admitted with a sigh, when she first got started she had no clue what she was doing. But now she was an expert in the quirky ways of Barrett’s Mill Furniture.

Maybe she could stay on a while longer, give Chelsea more time at home with the new baby. Tess had always been a worker bee, far from the decision-making levels of the companies she’d worked for. Despite her ongoing fear of messing up something important, she was surprised to find she relished the challenge of setting her own pace and learning as she went along. While she wouldn’t enjoy the same security—or salary—as she would at a more established business, here at the mill she’d have something much more important.

Independence.

The alternate life she’d stumbled into was full of opportunities to prove herself, and she couldn’t deny it held a solid appeal for her. Each time she tackled something foreign to her and succeeded, her confidence level rose a bit more. If she kept improving the way she hoped to, she might even discover a path to the self-sufficient existence she craved. With no attachments to anyone in particular, she could pretty much go anywhere she wanted. Wouldn’t it be something if she found what she’d been looking for in the hometown her father had abandoned so long ago?

While she was straightening up the office, she heard the unmistakable creaks and squeals of the vintage machinery grinding into action. Standing with a sheaf of invoices in her hands, she held her breath, but the sounds died down as quickly as they’d sprung up. After some inventive insults and a couple more tries, the familiar thrumming noise of the drive belts settled into the rhythmic sound that told anyone with half a brain that Barrett’s Sawmill was up and running again.

A rousing cheer went up in the rear of the old mill house, and she went back to find three very grimy men hooting and jumping around like six-year-olds who’d just won a baseball game. She smiled as they traded greasy high fives but hesitated when Heath offered her one.

He cocked his head in a chiding gesture, and she laughed. “Oh, why not?” She noticed he was much gentler with her than he’d been with her cousins, which she appreciated. Looking around, she marveled at the belts slinging through their paces as if nothing had ever stopped them. “This is fabulous, guys. What did you end up doing?”

“A little of everything,” Heath answered in a voice that was equal parts tired and proud. “Those maintenance manuals you found are worth their weight in gold, so make sure you put ’em somewhere safe.”

“Will do. I hate to bring this up,” she added with a hesitant look around, “but this place is a mess. Should I call the crew and tell them to stay home again tomorrow?”

“Not a chance,” Jason replied with a determined shake of his head. “We can’t lose another day, so we’ll get it cleaned up somehow.”

“Would you like some help?”

The three of them looked toward the door, where Amy and Jenna—the newest Mrs. Barretts—stood holding all manner of cleaning supplies. Jason’s wife, Amy, set down the mops and paper towels she was holding, while Jenna plunked down two enormous buckets filled with cleaning solvent from the studio she shared with Scott.

Wow, Tess thought with genuine admiration for her friend. The slender artist was a lot stronger than she looked.

“But first,” Amy announced in the authoritative voice of someone who spent her days teaching kids to dance, “we eat.”

“That sounds great,” Jason told her with a quick hug, “but we emptied the fridge around four.”

“Oo, shocker,” Jenna teased with a bright laugh. “Good thing we already guessed that.”

Linking arms with Scott, she led them through the lobby and out to one of the picnic tables where tourists ate when they visited the old mill. Spread on top was a checkered tablecloth that held everything from pork to ham to two apple pies steaming in the cool evening air. All thickly sliced, of course.

“Olivia’s over at Paul and Chelsea’s with your mom, whipping everything into shape,” Jenna explained. “But she didn’t forget about all of you slaving away out here. As soon as she heard what was going on, she started cooking.”

“Man, she’s the best.” Heath sighed as he sank down onto a bench beside the other two who were busy piling food onto their plates. “I’ll have to come up with a way to thank her. Think she’d like a sunroof on her car?”

They all laughed at that then spent the next few minutes passing dishes and filling glasses. Suddenly, Tess had a sobering thought. “Paul doesn’t know about these awful equipment problems, does he?”

“Absolutely not,” Amy replied. “None of the family will tell him, and Aunt Helen’s making sure everyone in town keeps quiet. As far as Paul and Chelsea know, this place is running like a top and they don’t have a thing to worry about.”

“Except the baby,” Jason said quietly.

That stopped the lighthearted conversation in its tracks, and he silently held out one hand to his wife and the other to his brother sitting beside him. The others followed his lead, and despite her earlier misgivings, Tess went along without a second thought. Bowing her head, she silently introduced herself to God and sent up a heartfelt prayer for the littlest Barrett. While no one spoke, the love circling around that table set in the woods was like a living thing, wrapping her in the kind of warmth she’d never experienced before.

This was how it felt to belong somewhere, she realized. To be surrounded by solid, down-to-earth folks who valued each other above everything else in the world. Not money, not prestige, but people. Lavish parties and decadent weekends away with Avery had been fun at first, but after a while they’d gotten to be just one more stuffy obligation she had to meet. Struggling to fit into his lofty world, she’d gradually forgotten what it was like to enjoy a spontaneous girls’ night out with her friends.

As the others raised their heads and began eating, Tess’s heart swelled with gratitude to them for making her feel so welcome. She was as new to them as they were to her, but they’d gone out of their way to make her feel like one of the crew.

“So, Tess,” Jenna said while spooning potato salad onto her plate. “How’s the scarecrow display coming?”

“What scarecrow display?”

“Oh, man,” Heath groaned. “Chelsea forgot to tell you about it?”

“Things have been insane since I got here,” Tess reminded him curtly. “It’s not like I sit in the office buffing my nails all day, you know.”

She added a cool stare for good measure, but it didn’t make much impact on the easygoing mechanic. Totally unfazed, he grinned back. “The Harvest Festival is the first weekend in November. All the businesses in town put up scarecrows in the square, and folks vote on which one’s the prettiest, the scariest, stuff like that.”

Waiting for the punch line, she simply blinked at him. When he didn’t laugh, she sighed in resignation. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. But with everything your family has going on, I’m sure the committee will understand if the mill skips it this year.”

Her family
. The people she’d met for the first time only a month ago, who’d taken her in like a long-lost child and made a place for someone who’d never felt at home anywhere. If her father hadn’t been so determined to leave his humble roots behind, she thought bitterly, she would have become acquainted with her raucous Southern cousins long ago, maybe even spent part of her summer vacations here. Riding around in pickup trucks, hanging out at the watering hole they all spoke of so fondly, enjoying impromptu picnics like this.

Through no fault of her own, she’d missed out on all of that. Hokey as the decorating contest sounded to her, if she backed out of it she knew she’d be letting her relatives down. She wasn’t about to compound Dad’s selfish mistakes with a completely avoidable one of her own. “Well, I still have a few weeks left to get something together. I’m sure I can figure out a way to make it work.”

“We’ll all help,” Heath assured her with his you-can-count-on-me grin. In the short time she’d known him, it had become a familiar sight. She wasn’t sure if he was like that with everyone, or if he sensed that she needed an extra dose of encouragement. Whatever the reason, she was glad he’d stepped up yet again. And this time she didn’t even need to ask.

“Whattya mean
we
?” Scott growled, although a glimmer in his dark eyes gave him away. “I got more than enough to do as it is.”

Taking up the challenge, Tess fired back. “Fine. Heath and I will do it ourselves. Too many hands just make a mess of things, anyway.”

“Meaning she wants to be in charge.” Jason chuckled, angling a look at Heath. “Think you can handle taking orders from surfer girl over there?”

Gazing across the table at her, Heath seemed to consider the question carefully before nodding. “I think I can manage.”

As the discussion swung around to other less controversial topics, Tess puzzled over Heath’s reaction to her cousin’s teasing. Even though he was clearly the kind of man who didn’t shirk from taking the reins, he hadn’t bothered to debate who’d be heading up the scarecrow project. He seemed comfortable with her taking the lead role, which was a new experience for her. More than once, her father had referred to her as his little orchid, lovely to look at but best suited to a sheltered greenhouse.

Until now, she amended firmly. If she’d learned anything in the past few months, it was that relying on others to care for her was risky, at best. At worst, it led to the kind of disaster that had driven her across the country, hoping to stumble across the mysterious something that she needed to fill the hole in her life.

She hadn’t even realized she was missing anything until Scott and Jenna’s wedding. But now that she recognized the gap for what it was, it wasn’t the kind of thing she could ignore. Once she identified the root cause of her problem, she was confident she’d know how to solve it.

One thing she knew for sure: she was done pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. The fact that Heath had advised her to do just that had nothing to do with her newfound determination, she assured herself. Nothing at all.

* * *

Something was up with Tess.

Even while they were all chatting and laughing, he slid a glance at her now and then, wondering if he should be worried. She was smiling in all the right places, but the expression had an absent look to it, as if her thoughts kept wandering to something else altogether. That quick mind of hers impressed him beyond words, and tonight he felt like he was at a serious disadvantage.

That was why he generally avoided getting involved with smart women, he reminded himself wryly. They were always a step or two ahead of him, if not more, and they always got tired of waiting for him to catch up. Just one more reason to keep Tess at arm’s length.

The problem was, that didn’t keep him from noticing how her eyes sparkled in the porch light, or how she put an extra spoonful of whipped cream on the slice of apple pie she handed over to him. When she added one of those dazzling smiles, he felt his resolve wavering and did his best to rein in his errant thoughts. He almost managed it, but not quite.

“Thanks,” he said as he forked up a mouthful of Olivia’s award-winning dessert.

“You’re welcome. After all you’ve done for us today, you should have this whole pie to yourself.”

Jason and Scott made choking noises, even as their wives kicked them under the table. Ignoring them, Heath grinned at Tess. It wasn’t his imagination this time, he was certain. She was starting to like him. And even though he knew better, he couldn’t deny he was starting to like her, too. “Maybe you can make me another one.”

“Me?” Laughing as if he’d just told her the best joke she ever heard, she shook her head. “Not unless you want to land in the hospital with food poisoning. I’m the kind of girl who makes reservations, not dinner.”

“Technically, this is dessert,” he pointed out, bobbing his loaded fork in emphasis.

“I don’t do that, either. Trust me, it’s safer for everyone that way.”

Heath was aware that the two married couples were subtly retreating, leaving the two of them alone beneath one of the oak trees that had been on the site since the original mill was built just after the Civil War. Its bare branches spread out overhead, showing off the stars that were coming to life in the dark sky.

Resting his arms on the table, he focused back on her. It wasn’t tough, since she was the nicest view he’d had all day. “I guess this is a little more rustic than what you’re used to.”

“True, but it’s also more fun.”

“Seriously? You’d rather be here than at a sushi bar or some high-end bistro?”

Fixing those incredible eyes on him, she said, “I’d rather be here than anywhere else I can think of. Can you keep a secret?”

“Scout’s honor,” he replied, solemnly holding up his hand.

“Even before I lost my job,” she confided while swirling the ice in her cup, “I wasn’t all that happy.”

The urge to say
I knew it
was almost irresistible, but he suspected it would go over better if he offered a sympathetic ear instead of gloating about being right. “Why?”

“Lots of reasons,” she admitted with a delicate shrug. She refused to meet his eyes, which told him another of his hunches was correct. She was hiding something, and not only from him. Letting out a heavy sigh, she lifted her gaze to his and allowed him to see the raw emotion swirling through her eyes. “After Avery and I were together about a year, we found out I was pregnant.”

Heath was glad he was sitting down, or he’d have dropped from shock. When he recovered enough to think clearly, he understood what she was trying not to say. “You lost the baby.”

Tears flooded her eyes, and she nodded before looking down at the table. Without thinking, he reached out and covered her hand with his, giving a light, reassuring squeeze.