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
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
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