Chapter 3
Speed Bump
Lawson watched nerves and fear chase themselves over the face of the stunning woman who hadn’t yet given him her name.
He’d decided to visit her rather than get more information about her from his siblings first. Judging from her face, that impulsive decision had been a colossal mistake.
He tried to keep his face and voice in friendly mode.
“That sounded ominous. It’s not, I promise.
As I said, I’m a brother to Knox, Jolie, and Amber.
I arrived at the apple farm late last night, and I think my brain hasn’t caught up.
I should have asked my siblings to come with me to introduce myself.
Most women wouldn’t want a strange man showing up on their doorstep. ”
And he hadn’t left when no one had answered his knock on the cottage door. Instead, he’d moved further onto her property and knocked on her garage when he’d heard metal banging inside. Intrusive.
Now, she held the door as a barrier between them—one she could quickly shut to keep herself safe. She was perfectly safe with him, but had no reason to believe that.
After a final belly rub of the massive Bibi, Lawson stood and backed away. “I’m not a creep or a bad guy, but you have no way of knowing that. I can see that I’ve screwed up by arriving this way. Sorry.”
Her eyes narrowed as if she were considering his words. “Why are you here?”
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, trying to look normal and safe. “I was trying to get an overview of our apple farm this morning, so I used a drone.”
“That was you?”
Her voice shook, and he frowned. The fear was back in her eyes.
He nodded. “The drone’s a new toy, and I thought it would be fun to check out the farm with it. Anyway, I spotted a beautiful truck in a field back there behind your place.”
Her frown deepened, and his brain clicked.
He’d thought the woman he’d spotted earlier might be this woman’s grandmother.
But she was wearing a flowery dress. If he mentally added a floppy hat and an old sweater, he supposed it could be her.
“Was that you I saw by the truck? Your hat covered your face.”
She nodded warily, and the door inched closer to being closed. Ignoring the woman’s nerves, the dog stood and licked Lawson’s hand. He patted her absent-mindedly while he tried to figure out what had made this woman afraid. Was she growing something illegal back there? Or hiding something?
Jolie and Ford had found a thermos filled with diamonds in the pond, so anything was possible.
He’d observed a lot of fear during his years in the army. Hell, he’d felt a lot as well. This woman’s fear was personal. For herself, not for what he might find.
His senses told him she feared him, and he didn’t like that at all. He wasn’t that kind of guy.
He needed to explain himself better. “I’m a mechanic, and I love to restore old vehicles. I saw the truck and couldn’t ignore it. Looks like a 1930 or ’31 Ford. I was hoping to see it close up one day. I’d love to buy it from you and restore it. Of course I’d pay you for it.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“No?”
Another shake. “No. Goodbye.”
Definitely time for a strategic retreat. And to rethink his strategy.
He backed away immediately. The dog whined, and he reached to give her another pat. “Nice to meet you both. I’ll see you around.”
When she didn’t respond, he realized that the statement could sound creepy. Damn, he was screwing this up in every way imaginable.
He gritted his teeth to keep more words trapped inside. Sure, she was gorgeous, but he’d been around gorgeous women before. None of them had scrambled his brain so that he spewed idiotic nonsense.
At least his skin was dark enough to hide the fact that he was blushing. Blushing as if he’d been walking down the hallway of his middle school naked.
Shaking his head, Lawson hopped into his truck. He waved before leaving, hoping to keep some of his dignity.
The drive home wasn’t long enough for to overcome his embarrassment. How did he fix this? The woman didn’t need to be afraid of him, and he wanted to reassure her that she was safe. Neither he nor his drone was dangerous. How did he do that without making things worse?
Once he was back on the farm, Lawson headed to the equipment barn and used his key to unlock it. Instead of turning on the lights, he moved to open the massive doors at the front. They moved easily despite the size. He’d bet that was his buddy Ford in action.
He was jealous of how smoothly the door moved because he’d been anything but smooth with their neighbor. Dumbass.
He breathed a few lungfuls of motor oil and lingering exhaust to settle himself. He’d always been able to lose himself in engines.
A quick glance around the barn told him he could lose himself for years here.
ATVs, tractors, and trucks that pulled bins behind for harvesting. Some vehicles appeared to be decades old. Rusted fenders begged to be brought back to life. Enough variety in the types of engines to make him smile.
Shelves lined the walls, and Lawson decided to circuit of the outer edges before checking out the middle. He’d get a feel for the barn’s organization and see what was here, and what he’d need to add.
Of course, his own tools filled his truck bed. His clothes and personal items had only taken a few duffels. He’d donated his furniture and kitchen stuff to a thrift store back in Boston. Few of his things had any personal meaning. That was reserved for pictures of his family and his tools.
The first workbench brought him to a quick halt. He’d bet it had been built at the same time as the barn. At least a century ago.
He ran his fingers over the scars covering the surface. Nicks and gouges from tools, deliberate carvings like hearts and apples. The round edges of the shapes had been created by repeated chips of a tiny chisel. It would have taken time to create these mini-masterpieces.
Who had done it? The original owners? Maybe their children or their great-grandchildren.
So many stories in the wood.
Along the back edge of the workbench, there were equally ancient toolboxes. Some were open-topped, with handles. Others had lids and latches. Handmade latches.
Someone had been a welder at some point. He had his own welder in the back of the truck, but he hoped there was another in the depths of the barn.
That thought brought him up short. If he wasn’t mistaken, he’d inhaled the same scent when his neighbor opened her garage door. Was she a mechanic, too? Was that why she’d bluntly refused his offer to buy the truck?
With a sigh, Lawson shook his head to get rid of the questions.
He opened each toolbox and picked through the contents as he moved.
Wrenches of all shapes and sizes. Some looked to be handmade.
Had there been a blacksmith nearby who had forged the tools?
Was the shop still around? That would be amazing.
Blacksmithing would be an intriguing hobby.
He figured it would bring him the same thrills he got when restoring old vehicles, like the sweet truck on his neighbor’s property.
So much for shoving her out of his mind.
The gorgeous woman had been afraid of him. More so when he’d confessed he’d flown the drone around her truck.
She had to be hiding something.
Or hiding from something.
He had to fix it, to let her know she had nothing to fear from him.
Heading back to her home would be a huge mistake. He’d be one of those asshole mansplainers telling her she was safe.
He had to show, not tell her. But that would take too long. He didn’t want her afraid even a second longer, but he didn’t know how to fix it.
The group here on the farm had a routine of meeting for supper every night. A check of the time showed that it would probably happen soon. Knox had told him to listen for the dinner bell, which made him grin.
This place was going to be good for him, if he hadn’t screwed things up irrevocably with the neighbour and made it awkward for everyone.
He imagined his sisters and the other women on the farm would have ideas about how he could fix his mess. Ideas that didn’t involve him charging through the orchard to scare the breath out of her again.
With a sigh, Lawson forced himself to remain in the barn. Moving impulsively—again—would compound his mistake.
He detested mistakes.
But he doubted this would be his last one. The beautiful, wary woman scrambled his brain. Which should mean he wanted to avoid her.
But that was the last thing he wanted to do.
Yep, he was a dumbass.
Dani spent the next few hours bending metal and cleaning up her workspace. She’d tried to get lost in the design aspects, but the magic had disappeared for the moment.
Right now, it felt like her bees were buzzing in her stomach and through her veins.
Doing some yoga would help her settle, but that meant crossing the yard to get to her cottage. She wasn’t quite brave enough yet. Still more nerves to work out.
Nothing remained to be cleaned or organized in the metalwork part of her garage, so she moved into the painting area.
Bibi whined behind Dani, making her smile. One incident with a spray gun and sticky green paint had been enough for her girl. “It’s okay, Bibi, I’m just cleaning today.”
She’d sealed off this part of the room to keep the entire space clean. She didn’t want the paint or the metal dust to invade the rest of the garage.
Dani loved trying different sanding methods and roughing up the metals to bring different shines and textures to the pieces. Grinding and sanding created dust, and she could contain it here.
She’d caved to customer pressure and agreed to paint some of her pieces last year, using the area for that, too. While she didn’t agree that the paint enhanced most pieces, the customer was always right. If they weren’t, at least they were paying.
In her opinion, the shimmery paints worked best. They added sparkle when the sun shone, and the pieces danced with magic on those days when the sun played peek-a-boo with the clouds.