Page 19 of Brazen

It sure as hell was and getting hotter.

I tried to focus on anything but the way his jeans were low slung.

“Okay, Tarzan.”

“Tarzan?”

I shrugged. “He never met a shirt he wanted to wear.”

Sam laughed.

I needed to stop thinking about this guy's bare naked chest. “So, where’s the tractor?”

“In a rush for your date?” Sam turned and held out his hand. At first I didn’t know why, but then realized he wanted to carry my toolbox. After I handed it off, we went around the barn and along a fenced paddock.

A horse whinnied, and I heard hooves stomping. A female voice spoke soothingly.

“Not in a rush, but I have to pick up JT from school,” I replied. “I wait for him out front by–”

Sam stopped, and I almost slammed into him. “Who’s watching JT tonight while you’re on your date?” he asked. All playfulness was gone, and he looked remarkably serious.

“Edna and Ernie.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he nodded. “Good. They’ll keep a good eye on him.”

Before I could ask why he was so concerned about who I chose to watch my son, the horse whinnied again–a high-pitched sound.

“Sam?” A female voice called in what seemed like a strained attempt to sound calm, stopping us both. “I could use your horse whispering over here.”

“Sure thing.” Sam touched my lower back with his free hand and passed me back my toolbox. “Be right back, Sparks.” He winked before he jogged around the corner, somehow moving silently in a pair of cowboy boots.

I followed. In the paddock was a pretty Black woman in jeans and sturdy boots. She led a black horse by the bridle, but it was bucking and definitely skittish. I knew about cars, not horses, but it looked like she was having a tough time. Like leading a dog that didn’t want to be on a leash.

“Wait here, okay?” Sam tossed a look over his shoulder.

I nodded, then he hopped the fence with the grace of an Olympic hurdler.

I set my toolbox on the ground and rested my forearms on the top rail of the fence; the shaft laying across it as I watched.

Sam walked over with an easy gait. He reached for the leather bridle and talked with the woman for a bit, the two of them glancing at me once. Then she stepped away and came over to me.

“Hey, I’m Charlie.” She leaned on the inside of the fence. Beside her, I felt frumpy. She was tall and lean, and while she wore jeans and dusty boots, her pale blue blouse looked feminine and neat. I even picked up a soft floral scent.

I had oil under my nails and no doubt smelled like gasoline.

“Clio.”

“Heard you’re going to fix the tractor.”

“This’ll be my first, but I’m sure it won’t be hard.”

She looked my way with her dark eyes. “Your first?”

I smiled. “Tractor repair. I actually specialize in IndyCars.”

She cocked her head. “Race cars?”

I nodded.