Chapter Three #3
One of the men had called to tell him. When he drove out to view the damage, she was already there with a crew working to cut up the fallen tree and haul it away.
She held a chain saw and had a battered straw hat on her head with a long braid hanging over her shoulder.
He’d known her all his life but rarely paid any attention to her.
He knew she was two years younger than he was, but right then he thought she looked five years younger.
The noise of chain saws was loud, the ground spongy from the rain when he stepped out of his truck.
Even though she had to pay for the damage because it was her tree, he’d tried to curb his anger that she hadn’t called him first. She saw him and walked over.
“My tree fell in the storm. Sorry about the damage. But I’m insured.”
“Did you call your agent?”
“No, I will. I want to get the fence up as soon as possible so I don’t lose any livestock.”
“Lindsay, that’s my fence and I’ll fix it.
You should have called me. Your insurance should cover the damages when a tree falls on something, but only if you have notified your company.
They would have sent someone out to see what happened, take pictures and write a report.
Now the tree is back on your property, cut up as we speak, and I doubt if you can collect anything. ”
She had looked surprised. “I haven’t had a tree fall on anything before. I’ll check with my insurance company, and I’ll pay you for the damage.”
“Stop cutting up the tree. I’m going to call and see if my adjustor wants to come out anyway.”
She’d frowned but agreed.
“And leave the fence alone. It’s my fence and I’ll get it replaced today.”
She had scowled at him. “Today?”
“This morning,” he said. “As soon as we can. If you have livestock grazing here, move them. Don’t let them in this pasture. That’s simple enough,” he said, wondering if she knew how to run that ranch of hers.
“I know that,” she snapped.
“Leave the fence to me. Stop cutting up and hauling away the tree. I’ll get someone out here to look this over,” he repeated, suspecting she was stubborn enough to keep cutting up the tree.
She had clamped her mouth closed as her blue eyes flashed. “Anything else you want to tell me to do?” she snapped, and his temper rose a notch.
“Probably a lot, but I’m not going to,” he answered evenly.
“Why was your truck parked right by my property?”
He had been annoyed by her question, though he tried to hang on to his temper.
“It was on my property and we can park the truck wherever we want on this side of that fence. If you want to know, one of the men was headed back in the storm and checking to see if the fences were okay. He’d been driving through high water in several low places and the truck quit running here. Unfortunately, near your tree.”
She’d been silent a moment as if thinking about what he had said. “I know it was my tree on your truck. My word should be good enough for the insurance.”
Impatiently, he shook his head. “No, it’s not good enough. Next time, remember to call your adjustor before you do anything else. You may have a hard time collecting.”
He remembered her raising her chin defiantly and he’d wondered if she would argue, but then she looked around and seemed lost in thought until she turned back to him. “That isn’t a new truck. Get three estimates in Verity for the repairs and I’ll cover the lowest bidder’s charges.”
“Look, I can’t get that kind of damage fixed in Verity. At least not at three different places and you know it. The truck will be totaled.”
“I’m not buying you a brand-new truck.”
“Tell your guys to stop working and then go home, Lindsay, and call your insurance company. They’ll tell you what to do next.”
Her cheeks had grown red and fire had flashed in her eyes, but he hadn’t cared if his instructions made her angry. She had already annoyed the hell out of him.
Yes, Lindsay Calhoun had that unique ability to boil his blood.
Right now, though, as he reined his thoughts back to the present and looked down at her naked body, she had the ability to heat his blood in a different way.
Tony pushed aside the past to gaze into her big blue eyes. He didn’t expect what they’d had this weekend to last much longer because the real world was settling back into their lives.
Last night he hadn’t cared what she wanted from him. He’d been totally focused on her as he adjusted to his new discoveries about her. Now, though, curiosity reared its ugly head and he wanted to learn her purpose behind the evening.
“You should know what I want to talk about,” she said, scooting to sit up in bed and lean back against pillows, pulling the sheet demurely high and tucking it beneath her arms. Her pale yellow hair spilled over her shoulders.
She looked tousled, warm and soft, and he wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her again, but he refrained.
It was time he heard her out and learned what was so important to her that she would pay several thousand dollars just to get his attention.
“Two things, Tony,” she said, and he sighed, trying to be quiet and listen, to be patient and talk to her calmly.
He had already given her the solution to her water problem, but she didn’t believe him.
He could deal with this in a civilized manner, but underneath all her sex appeal, breathtaking beauty and their dream weekend, there still was the real woman who was mule-stubborn and did not take advice well.
Lindsay was all he avoided in women—stubborn, far too serious and constantly stirring conflict.
The irony of the fact that she was now sharing his bed was not lost on him. But he ignored it as he focused on her.
She continued her explanation. “First and foremost I hope that we have some sort of truce where we can be civil to each other, with no tempers flaring.”
“I’d say we can be mighty civil to each other. You should have some of your money’s worth there,” he said, caressing her throat, letting his fingers drift down lightly over her breast.
“I hope so,” she said solemnly.
“I’m willing,” he said. “So continue.”
She squared her shoulders and fussed with the sheet.
Then she cleared her throat and spoke. “My wells are running dry and I figured you’ve replaced your old pumps with bigger ones that are drawing on the aquifer and depleting my groundwater.
I can get bigger pumps, too, but that might take water from other neighbors and I don’t want to do that. ”
He held up his hand. “I told you, Lindsay, I do not have bigger pumps.”
“Well, for some reason, my water is dwindling away to almost nothing.”
“It’s a record drought,” he said, as if having to explain the obvious to a child.
“I’ve asked Cal Thompson and he doesn’t have bigger pumps. Neither does Wendell Holmes. I figured it was you.”
“It is not. According to the weather experts, this is the worst drought in these parts in the past almost sixty years—before you and I were born, much less before we became owners of neighboring ranches. I told you the solution to my problem. You can do the same. Just dig deeper wells and you’ll have much more water.
Then when it rains, the aquifer will fill back up again.
If you don’t want to dig deeper, buy water and have it piped in. That’s what Wendell is doing.”
She stared at him thoughtfully in silence for several minutes.
It was difficult to keep his attention on her water worries while she sat beside him in bed, naked, with only a sheet pulled up beneath her arms. He couldn’t resist reaching out to caress her throat again, letting his hand slide down and slip beneath the sheet to caress her bare breasts.
It took an effort to sit quietly and wait when all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss her thoroughly. Well, that wasn’t all he wanted to do.
The instant his fingers brushed her nipple, he saw a flicker in her eyes.
“You really had them dug deeper?”
Thinking more about her soft skin and where his fingers wanted to go, he hung on to his patience. “Yes, I did. When we get home, come over anytime and I’ll show you my old pumps.”
When she merely nodded, he felt a streak of impatience with her for being so stubborn.
She didn’t seem convinced he was telling the truth, and he suspected she wasn’t going to take his advice.
With every passing minute he could see her sliding back into her serious, stubborn self, stirring up conflict unnecessarily.
Lindsay seemed to thrive on conflict. Except for last night.
For that brief time she had been sexy, appealing, cooperative and wonderful.
Now they were drifting back to reality and he had to hang on to his patience once again.
“I might do that.”
As his gaze ran over her, it was difficult to think about anything else except how sexy she was and how the minutes were running out on this brief truce.
She looked incredibly enticing with her bare shoulders and just the beginning of luscious curves revealed above the top of the sheet.
How could she be this appealing and he had never noticed?
He knew his answer, but it still amazed him that he hadn’t had a clue about her beauty.
In the past, once she started arguing he couldn’t see beyond his anger. He saw now.
He was unable to resist trailing his fingers lightly over her alluring bare shoulder, looking so soft and smooth.
If his life depended on it, he couldn’t stop touching her or looking at her.
He wanted to pull away the sheet, place her in his lap and kiss her senseless.
They were wasting their last few moments together talking about the drought, when he had other things he wanted to do.
He leaned forward to brush a kiss on that perfect shoulder.