Chapter 5
“So, how do I get out of this date?” Brodie groaned out loud to himself on his way to the farm on Friday morning.
Joe Clay, Knox, and Tripp were at the barn taking measurements and estimates on how much it would cost to get the barn in shape to be a leather goods store.
Mary Jane was in her writing cave, so there was no one to answer his question.
He had seven sisters and that many brothers-in-law and yet had no help from any of them either.
“Looks like Joe Clay or Mary Jane could step up to the plate and stop Aunt Bernie when it came to her matchmaking business,” he grumbled as he turned into the driveway and looked over at the pitiful wall still standing with all the bathroom fixtures.
He parked his truck, got out, and looked up. “Lord, can’t you send me something?”
No answers came floating down from the clear blue sky, either, so God, Fate, and the Universe must all be busy with something more important than helping him figure out a way to gracefully and gentlemanly get out of going out with Linda.
Being downright rude would hurt Aunt Bernie’s feelings, and he had been brought up to respect the elderly.
She would shoot you and drag your carcass out in the woods if she heard you call her elderly. Joe Clay’s voice laughed in his ear.
Brodie was so lost in his thoughts that he had completely forgotten why he was going to the farm that day.
Seeing two big trucks at the end of the strawberry field and a dozen or more men already harvesting berries jerked him right back into reality.
He reminded himself that he still had a little time for someone to help him out of the jam Aunt Bernie had slapped him right in the middle of, but for now he needed to put on a smile and be a businessman.
“Good morning,” he called out.
A tall, lanky man waved and then crossed the yard to meet Brodie.
He stuck out his hand and said, “Pete Riley, supervisor of this operation. We’ve talked on the phone.
Glad you let us harvest for you again this year.
We didn’t know how things would go after Ira’s sudden death.
Looks like someone already picked the lower end of the field. ”
Brodie shook with him. “I’m Brodie Callahan, and I’m glad that Ira left a written notebook of all his harvesters. And yes, my sister and her husband own and operate a winery, and they took part of the crop to make strawberry wine.”
“Pleased to meet you. It’s good to put a face with a name,” Pete said and dropped Brodie’s hand. “And no worries about your kinfolks harvesting part of the crop. With all these spring rains, there’s a bumper crop this year.”
“How long do you think it will take you to get them all picked?” Brodie asked.
“We’ll be done today unless a storm blows up. Speaking of that, I’m real sorry about your house. That back wall still standing with the bathroom fixtures intact looks kind of pitiful. You going to build back right where the place was?”
“We haven’t made up our mind yet, but it does make sense since the plumbing is all in the ground right there,” Brodie answered.
“Glad you made it out safe. You are a lucky man that the tornado didn’t destroy your orchards and that the trees protected the gardens. Ira was smart to lay out things the way he did.”
“I understand you’ve been buying his produce for years,” Brodie said.
“We have, and we’re glad you are continuing to sell to us. Folks do love their organic food,” Pete said. “We left a few feet on this end for you to pick for personal use like you asked.”
“I want to pick a sack full or two to take to the Paradise to make shortcakes for tonight’s supper,” Brodie told him.
“Too bad we’ll be gone by that time, or I’d beg an invitation,” Pete chuckled.
“But to be honest, I plan on taking some home to my wife so she can make some of her famous strawberry tarts. You go ahead and pick what you want, and I’ll get back to work.
We’ll send a check as soon as we weigh the trucks.
And we look forward to a call when the watermelons and cantaloupe are ready.
” Pete waved over his shoulder as he turned and walked back to the strawberry field.
“You can expect it, for sure,” Brodie called out.
“Hey!” Audrey called out from the barbed-wire fence.
The last thing Brodie wanted to do that morning was face off with Audrey again.
He would have trouble choosing which was worse—a blind date with an annoying woman or an encounter with a frustrating neighbor.
The answer came when his heart tossed in an extra beat as he watched Audrey put a foot on the bottom string of barbed wire and pull the next one up with her hand.
Then she expertly crawled through the two without getting a single hair tangled up in the barbs.
He couldn’t imagine what was so important that she would come onto his property.
He created all kinds of scenarios in his mind.
The one that stuck was that Audrey needed help taking Hettie to the hospital in Nocona.
Bernie would be ecstatic if the old girl didn’t show up in church for a few weeks.
That scene vanished when he heard another voice yelling to his right. He whipped around to see Linda with a big smile on her face and waving.
“Yahoo!” Her high whiny voice pierced through the air.
Brodie did not feel like he was between a rock and a hard place.
No, sir! He could almost feel a nine-point earthquake causing the ground to shake beneath his feet, and the gentle spring breeze felt like a class five tornado coming from the other way.
To get to his truck, he would have to run between the hurricane named Linda and the tornado labeled Audrey.
Men don’t run. They face their enemies head-on and plow through them. This time his drill sergeant’s voice was in his head.
Brodie really had no choice but to stand and fight because the gap was closing between the two women.
Linda continued to smile and wave as she carefully picked her way around the mud puddles to avoid getting her high-heeled shoes dirty.
Audrey’s boots stormed across the distance as if she was running on dry ground.
“Good Lord!” Brodie gasped, and jerked his head around from one woman to the other.
An old George Jones song, “The Race Is On,” played through his mind so loud that it wiped out whatever Linda was saying.
The lyrics of the song said that pride was coming up the backside and heartaches were going to the inside.
He wasn’t real sure which woman was pride and which was heartaches, but if his sense of judgment hadn’t failed, they were going to reach him at the same time.
Audrey pushed ahead at the last minute and ran toward him with open arms. Just before she reached him, she gave a running leap and jumped.
He caught her, but she knocked the wind right out of him when she hit him in the chest with her body and wrapped her legs around his waist. She cupped his cheeks in her hands, looked him in the eyes, and kissed him—long, hard, and lingering.
“What was that?” he gasped when the kiss ended.
“You can thank me later,” she whispered.
“You two-timin’ son of a bitch!” Linda screamed from a few feet away. “I wouldn’t go out with you if you were the last man on earth. Our relationship is over.”
The heat from Audrey’s body and the steaming kiss had wiped out the whole world around him, so that for a split second Brodie wondered who was yelling so loudly.
He wished whoever it was would leave so he could stay in the bubble with Audrey.
He didn’t know that a forbidden kiss could make a man forget about everything until that very moment.
“You are welcome,” Audrey hopped down and landed on her feet.
“For what?”
Linda popped her hands on her waist. “Don’t you have anything to say to me? An apology at the very least would be nice. You’ve probably been seeing this hussy for days while you led me on.”
Audrey handed Brodie her phone, took a few steps, and leaned toward Linda.
With their noses only a few feet apart, she said, “You did not have a relationship. You’ve never even been out with him, so scoot along home”—she motioned with her hand toward Linda’s car—“and call Bernie to set you up with someone else.”
Linda narrowed her eyes, reached out with her palms, and pushed Audrey. “I’m willing to fight for my man.”
“I’m not your man, and both of you need to leave,” Brodie hollered above the thick tension filling the air.
Audrey smiled, drew back a fist, but opened it at the last minute and slapped Linda across the cheek. “Go home and lick your wounds.”
Linda charged like a bull with a red flag in front of his eyes, and both women hit the ground in a thud.
Linda was on top, pulling Audrey’s hair and screaming cuss words that all blended together.
Brodie took a couple of steps forward but then stopped.
If lightning bolts zigzagged out of the clear blue sky, he didn’t want to be anywhere near Linda Massey.
With one hard shove, Audrey pushed the woman to the side, sat on her chest, and pinned both her arms. “You need to grow up and stop acting like a high school sophomore. Why would Brodie kiss me or”—she paused long enough to wink at Brodie—“or sleep with me if he wanted to go out with you?”
Linda freed one hand and threw a fist full of mud at Audrey’s face. Audrey let go of her other arm so she could wipe the mess from her eyes, and Linda took that opportunity to push her off her chest. Audrey landed in another puddle and came up slinging both fists.
Pete came running and shook his head. “I’ll get the brunette. You take care of the blond. Looks like all the rain we’ve had this past week hasn’t helped matters.”
“No, thanks,” Brodie said. “I’m not going near either one of them.”
“Okay, then,” Pete nodded. “I wasn’t lookin’ forward to getting dirty anyway. Want to put a bet on who calls uncle first?”