Lost in Tennessee (6 page)

“Just ten. Do you want to head into town with me today?” Trudy made herself at home, looking over his shoulder at the music.

The music demanded his full attention. The lines of the paper beckoned him with a siren’s call. “I need to do this. Then I need to help Katie.”

Trudy tapped the toe of her patterned pump on the bare floor. “She’s still here?”

“For a bit. I’m going to take her to her motel later.” Then he would ask her out. He didn’t think she’d say no. She said she liked his company. And she blushed when she said it. That was genuine.

“Well, good. The last thing you need is a woman like her around.”

Butch focused on Trudy. “A woman like her?”

Trudy rolled her eyes. “People who aren’t from here have, well, different values. Look at Tessa and Fawn. Neither of them understood God, family, and country.”

Butch dismissed her with a shake of his head and looked back at his music. “If you left our little corner of the world every now and then you’d find that people everywhere are more the same than not, God, family, and country included.”

Trudy flicked the idea away. “Everything I’ve ever needed is right here. Same for you. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

Butch turned the discussion off. Trudy long held the opinion that the useful world ended at the Tennessee border. Before his marriage to Fawn, Butch had flown Trudy, Hyde, and a few others to a concert in Atlanta. The hustle of a big city, even a Southern big city, did nothing to change Trudy’s opinion. Eventually, Butch stopped trying. He had better things to do than bounce his head off a brick wall.

Trudy flicked the pages from the music stand. “You’re tuning me out. If that’s the way you’re gonna be, you can just walk me out.”

“Damn it, Trudy.” Butch gathered the sheets from the floor, set them aside and hustled Trudy out of the room, wanting his quiet back. He walked her down the stairs, knowing it was the fastest way to get her going, his head already turning back to the music. She talked at him, her voice nothing but white noise behind the melody that had all but finished. On his front porch, she popped to her toes and kissed his cheek. His friend could frustrate him, but she also charmed him. Trudy cared as few did.

“Enjoy the day. See ya soon.”

“You will. I promise.” With that, Trudy walked down the two stone steps and across to the small car parked on the gravel drive.

Butch didn’t wait for her to back out but went into the house for something to drink. He stood at the counter, filling a glass with sweet tea when gleeful barking erupted from the barn. The overweight Lab chased a ball that bounced randomly over the gravel. Pleased to have caught the ball, the dog trotted back into the barn only to run back out moments later in pursuit again.

Butch filled another glass with the sweet drink and brought it to Kate. The barn floor was clean, but not so the woman who had put the array of parts back together. Kate sat on the floor wearing jeans, a once-white T-shirt, and grease smears. She had one on the side of her nose where it must have itched.

“How’s it coming?” Butch offered her the glass.

“Perfect timing. I was just cleaning up.” She climbed to her feet, accepted the glass, and drank down three healthy swallows. “My god, that’s good. Are you ready for the moment of truth?”

“What truth?”

“The truth of whether I put it together correctly.”

“You have doubts?”

Kate chuckled. “Not really. Lack of confidence isn’t one of my issues. Let’s start her up.”

Butch climbed onto the tractor and did the honors. The engine turned over, sounding happy to see him. “What did you do? It sounds great.”

Kate petted the tractor with nearly the same affection she showed the dog. “I figured as long as I had it apart, I’d do a mini-tune up.”

“Let’s go for a ride.” Butch held out his hand, inviting her to join him. A ride would be fun and give them time alone to get comfortable with each other. He watched the emotions play across her face. Hesitation first, then intrigue, and finally curiosity.

“Can I drive?”

“Later. Let me show you the farm first.”

Kate ignored his hand, climbing up on her own and stopping as she realized the situation. “Where should I sit?”

Butch patted his lap. “Only one place to sit, unless you’re chicken.”

The challenge wiped the fear from those sapphire eyes. She sat on his left thigh, her feet between his. She shifted on his lap, finding a comfortable position.

Butch hadn’t thought this through. He wanted to get closer to her, getting her comfortable with him in close proximity. That required him being comfortable with her in close proximity, which was getting harder by the second. Butch took a deep breath, filling his senses with the strawberry scent that surrounded her.

Kate shouted over the engine. “Is something wrong? Am I too heavy?”

Butch reached around her to the steering wheel, trapping her in. “I was just waiting on you to get settled.”

Butch put it in gear, and they rolled out of the barn and around to the dirt road that ringed the property. The black Lab abandoned the ball to follow.

Kate looked around the small cab, reaching for knobs that controlled the hydraulics.

Butch slapped at her hands. “No touching.”

She frowned but didn’t reach again. “Doesn’t it go faster?”

“Sure, but there’s something to be said for taking your time.”

“That something is that it’s freaking slow.” She put her foot over his and pressed.

The tractor lurched forward, giving them both a good knock. “Stop that.”

“When can I drive?”

“Later. McCormicks have farmed this land since the 1800s. The crops have changed, the farm has grown, but this place has always been ours.”

K
ate listened to the history of the land Butch loved. He never actually said he loved it, but he didn’t have to. It was there in every building and tree and rock that had a story. Butch had a way of talking that drew her in. She wanted to know what his crazy great-uncle did during that full moon. She cared about the men who worked the land while their sons fought a war a world away.

Butch parked the tractor close to a pond fed by the creek that cut through the property. It had rained two days prior, leaving the pond filled high and the low spots in the road muddy. Kate extracted herself from Butch’s lap and hopped to the ground. It was an experience, riding like that. Being that close made her heart and stomach flutter. She worried that he noticed what he did to her, but how could he know that whenever his hand brushed against her, a thousand butterflies batted their wings?

“My grandfather built this pond and stocked it. My grandmother complained about him running off to God knew where to fish, so he built this pond. That way, she knew exactly where he was. Do you fish?”

“I’m not much of an outdoors girl. We didn’t camp or any of that kind of stuff.”

Butch took her hand, leading her out onto the wood pier. “Maybe we’ll try it. There’s nothing like camping out under the stars.”

Kate didn’t know what to make of the comment. She didn’t expect to see him after today, so why talk about anything beyond dinner? “Maybe,” she said noncommittally before changing the subject. “What kind of fish do you stock? Anything that tastes good?”

Butch rattled off a list of fish that Kate had never heard of, offering to take her fishing.

“Maybe,” she said again. “Can we walk? It’s such a pretty day. I don’t get to just be outside too often.”

As if understanding English, the dog raced ahead down a footpath.

Butch took her elbow and led the way. “You never did say what you do for a living.”

“I’m an architect.”

Butch cocked his head as though the answer surprised him. It forever frustrated her that it didn’t surprise anyone when Tom said he was an engineer, but when she said she was an architect, people acted like they didn’t know what the word meant.

“What? You’ve never met a female architect before?”

Butch stroked her arm. “Don’t get ruffled. I don’t know that I’ve ever met any architect, male or female.”

She backpedalled, physically and verbally. “Sorry. I thought you thought, uh, sorry.”

Butch took her wrist and tugged, giving her no option but to walk with him again. “I expected you to do something mechanical.”

“Oh. I’ve always loved tinkering with machines, but buildings are my passion. The idea that something I imagine today will be around hundreds of years just, well, fascinates me. Like your house.”

“Not much to look at.”

Kate bumped into him, admonishing his disrespect. “Don’t you dare talk about her that way. She’s strong and beautiful with twice as much grace as ninety percent of the houses built today.”

Butch bumped her harder, using the grip on her wrist to pull her back. “I’ve always thought of the house as a ‘her,’ too. Do you design homes?”

Kate twisted her wrist, gaining her freedom but then lamented the loss. Could she reach out and take his hand? He had taken hers, so he probably wouldn’t protest. But she couldn’t. Her hand wouldn’t move. “No. My company, Riley Architects and Engineers, specializes in commercial, industrial, and institutional buildings.”

“You have a partner? His name is Tom?”

Kate nodded. “He’s a major pain in the ass. He has been his whole life.”

“Why are you with him?”

“When he’s not a pain in the ass, he’s brilliant.”

Spring raged around them in brilliant greens. Birds called through the air, creating a tapestry of sound. The black Lab, whose name she now knew was Bullet, but she’d come to think of as Chubsy, added to the sounds by rustling under the brush and bramble.

The path followed along the creek until a drop off, where it turned and connected back to the road. Kate could see the tractor a short walk away, but a mud puddle the width of the road and just as long stood in between. A perfect spot for a little fun.

Kate bumped Butch with her shoulder. “Betcha I can clear that puddle better than you.”

Butch snorted. “That’s not a puddle, it’s a pond.”

“Chicken? Loser buys lunch.” Ten feet from the edge of the water, Kate made ready to run.

“You’re on. You first.”

Kate shook her head. “Together.”

Butch matched her at the starting line. “On the count of three. One…two…three!”

Chapter Three

F
eet digging into the soft earth, they both bolted from the starting line. One step before the leap, Kate stopped. She saw that instant of confusion when he tried to stop, but he was too far committed, and the ground too soft. He slid into the puddle like a runner stealing second.

Covered in mud from his toes to his chest, Butch punched at the fluid surface. “You cheat!”

He looked spectacular. Raw and earthy and riled.

“I don’t know what you’re pissed about. You won. I’m buying lunch.” She couldn’t keep up the innocent act and broke into laughter. She picked her way around the edge of the puddle, looking for high ground. “It’s supposed to be good for you. I hear spas charge a lot of money to wallow in mud.”

Instead of looking for the high ground, she should have been looking for the hand that snaked over. “Then, why don’t you join me?”

And just like that, she flew sideways into the puddle. The afternoon temperatures had reached a comfortable seventy degrees, but the water temperature crested closer to fifty.

“Bastard!” The cold water shocked her warm skin. Instinct made her pop up, but gravity put her right back in the water. The harder she fought, the wetter she got and the harder she laughed.

Butch sat at the edge of the puddle, his back to the winter wheat growing in the spring sun. Kate thought he looked a little too clean.

“I know what you’re thinking. Don’t.”

Kate put on the innocent face she’d perfected as a teen. “What?”

“Kate. Katie. I’m serious.”

Kate launched herself at Butch, wrapping her muddy arms around his shoulders. He rolled them into the wheat, alternating laughing and cursing her.

“You muddy…little…brat.”

Chubsy ran thought the wheat, hopping around their prone bodies, barking his head off.

“Busted,” Kate said, filled with so much joy she couldn’t contain it.

Butch stood first and offered her a hand. “I can’t believe you did that.”

Their hands slipped, but Butch caught her wrist and pulled her to her feet. “I can’t believe you fell for that.”

Butch swatted her behind. “I’m going to have to keep my eye on you.”

B
utch leaned against the counter, ankles and arms crossed, as he watched the dinner preparations. Kate handled farm equipment like a pro. She couldn’t skip a stone across the pond but had the arm of a left-handed relief pitcher. Put a tool or piece of equipment in her hands, and the woman moved with the air and confidence of a queen.

Here in the kitchen, she was a fish out of water.

“Is the chicken supposed to be that color? It is chicken, right?”

She wrinkled her nose and glared at the skillet. “Of course it’s chicken. Haven’t you ever heard of blackened?”

“Blackened is not the same as burned.”

Kate covered the skillet with a lid and pointed at him with a wooden spoon. “Since when did you become the chef? This is my specialty. Don’t you have farmer work to do?”

“Farmer work?”

“Aren’t you a farmer?”

Here it was, the perfect opportunity to tell the truth. But what would happen then? He liked this woman. The one he washed down with the hose. The one denying dinner was burning. He just needed a little more time with her, a little more time with the real her and the real him. “I’m a songwriter. I just help my father with the farm.”

Kate shifted her focus from the skillet to the pot. She used the wooden spoon to stir the red glop he suspected of being a kind of sauce.

“That’s a cool job. Have you written anything I would have heard?”

“Maybe. Do you listen to country music?”

Kate shook the bottle of basil over the pot until the mystery contents were greener than the lawn. “I don’t listen to much music at all. Sometimes the guys will have the radio on in the trailer, but I never really notice it.”