Betting on Love Page 3

  A trace of hurt flashed across his expression. He nodded toward the dump truck. “There it is. Let’s go take a look.”

  Without a backward glance, he walked toward the machine. Melody inwardly chided herself. He’d wanted her to praise the land, and it was worthy of a few accolades. The place was amazing.

  She could just picture a small ranch home—brick or log, she wasn’t sure which she would picture. Either would be beautiful. A full front porch would extend the length of the house with a porch swing on both sides. She wondered if he’d put his bedroom in the back of the house, so he could build a deck off it so that he could sit outside his own bedroom and look out over the pond.

  She shook her head. What was she thinking? She had no business thinking about how Drew Wilson should set up his house. She didn’t even like the man. She didn’t like any man. Well, except Uncle Roy. He’d proven to be different than any other man she’d ever known.

  “Let me show you what she’s doing.” She watched as Drew hopped up into the cab of the dump truck. He shoved in the key and turned the ignition. The truck groaned and whined before she finally puttered to life. He turned it off and started it again. This time the machine jumped to a quick start.

  Drew turned it off then hopped back out of the truck. “Well, that’s what she’s doing. One time she’ll start right up. The next time she whines and carries on until she finally decides to run. Occasionally, she just won’t start at all.”

  Melody nodded. “Oil’s good? Filter’s good?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the starter?”

  “It should be fine. Replaced a little over six months ago.”

  Melody noted he’d had trouble answering the second question. She sneaked a peek at Drew. It was obvious asking for her help was hard on his ego. “Okay. Let’s have a look inside.”

  Melody looked around the engine. It needed some new spark plugs, but that wouldn’t cause her to vary the way she started up as much as Drew was describing. Melody hopped into the cab and examined the ignition. The problem was as obvious as the nose on her face. He needed to change the plugs and put in a new ignition.

  She looked at Drew. His hands were shoved down deep into his jeans pockets. A scowl wrapped his features. Not only was he a self-proclaimed Mr. Handyman, but many people around town agreed with his belief and sought him out for help with their stuff. There was no way he could have missed what was wrong with this truck. The problem was too simple. He was just acting like he didn’t know what was wrong. But why?

  Gazing out at his property, she realized something she hadn’t thought of before. They were alone. Way back in the heart of the Bluegrass State, and they were completely and utterly alone.

  Her chest tightened, and her heart raced as she remembered running through the county park back at her own stomping grounds. At fourteen, she’d only wanted to practice for the high school cross-country team. She’d discovered running long distances took her mind off her worries of her mom having to work so hard to provide for them. She didn’t have to think about how her mom rarely talked to her when she was home, almost ignoring her completely. It allowed her to breathe in the clean air and blow out the constant concerns and stresses and worries.

  Then the man grabbed her. He seemed to have come from nowhere and everywhere all at the same time. She felt his strong, large hand wrapped around the top of her arm, so tight she thought her bone would crack. His breath smelled of cigarettes, strong and stale.

  She shook the thought away. She would not allow herself to go there. She’d put that behind her, never to be thought of or relived again. She wouldn’t allow it now.

  After hopping down out of the cab, she stared at Drew as she straightened her shoulders and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Why did you ask me to come out here?”

  A puzzled expression wrapped his face. “I think the reason is obvious.” He pointed to the truck.

  She squinted at him. “Really? It’s not so obvious to me why you asked me here. What is obvious is what’s wrong with the truck. It’s an easy fix.” She pointed her finger at his chest. “And you and I both know you know how to fix it.”

  His face flamed red, but Melody knew she’d hit him right between the eyes. He did know how to fix that truck. He’d brought her out for a different reason. Knowing men as she did, she believed it couldn’t be an honorable one.

  Balling her fists, she broadened her stance, preparing herself for a physical battle if the need arose. She’d taken self-defense, and she now knew how to take care of herself. “So, why would you bring me all the way out here—all alone?”

  Drew looked at the expanse of his place once more then peered back at her. Realization at what she was asking seemed to dawn on him, and he took a few steps back shaking his hands in front of his chest. “No way.”

  Melody cocked her head. “Well, then explain.”

  Drew’s expression turned grim, and he set his jaw. “Don’t flatter yourself, Melody. I only wanted help with my truck.”

  Taken aback by his words, she sucked in her breath. Was he insulting her? Was he saying he was too good for her? Of the all the arrogant, egotistical men—

  He spoke again. “I take offense at what you’re thinking. You need to go on home.”

  Feeling as if she’d been sucker punched, Melody tried to lift her chin. She could feel the start of tears forming in her eyes. In less time than a cow can swish her tail, she’d gone from fearing he’d try to take advantage of her to feeling unwanted, unworthy, and unattractive. “I’d still like to know why you asked me here.”

  “Obviously, you wouldn’t understand. Go home.” Drew turned and walked toward his truck.

  Without hesitation Melody hopped into her own pickup, started it, and headed down the gravel road toward the main road. The unwanted tears she’d been able to hold at bay now streamed freely down her face. She felt perplexed that he’d asked her help for something so simple. Even more so, she was an idiot. A foolish woman. How could she have been worried and ready to fight if Drew had intended to get her alone, and then offended that he had no desire to be alone with her?

  Drew couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so insulted. Melody actually believed he’d driven her out to his place to take advantage of her. He fumed as he grabbed the spark plugs he’d bought for the dump truck out of the cab of his pickup.

  Sure, he’d called for her help, and yes, he did know how to fix the dump truck. He looked heavenward. “But God, that’s what I thought You wanted me to do. I know the woman doesn’t know You, and I know she and I don’t always see eye to eye on most things.”

  He shrugged his shoulders then grabbed his toolbox out of the bed of the pickup. “Okay, we have yet to see eye to eye on anything. But still, I thought You were telling me to call her out here—make her feel needed or wanted or whatever it is that silly woman needs. I just wanted to be a good witness.”

  You can’t do that by fibbing. His spirit spoke within his heart.

  He let out a long sigh. “I know.”

  With a heavy heart, he changed the spark plugs in the truck. Though he hated to admit it, his heart ached a bit that she hadn’t been more excited about his homesite. Every bit a country girl, he thought she might swoon over the pond that made up much of his backyard.

  He growled at his thinking as he tightened the spark plugs. What did he care what she thought? She drove him to insanity. Always having to win everything. Always having to prove herself to everyone.

  “Actually, you two are a whole lot alike. You’re both so stinkin’ competitive. Have to be the best at everything. But you’re a Christian, and she’s not.” Wyatt’s words flooded his mind anew.

  She was a lot like him. He knew she was. Which also meant she wouldn’t back down from anybody for any reason. She thought he had tried to hoodoo her out here to fix his dump truck. She’d thought he’d had an ulterior motive.

  Well, the truth was he did have an ulterior motive, but it wasn’t impure in any way. He just wanted to do right by his faith.

  God knows the heart.

  He grabbed the rag out of the back pocket of his jeans then wiped the sweat from his forehead. “You don’t care much about my actions if my heart ain’t right, do You, Lord?” He shoved the rag back in his pocket. “The world has plenty of do-gooders, but this is about me and You.”

  Drew pushed away from the dump truck. He walked to the oversized blue cooler he’d been using for water bottles. He opened the lid and grabbed one out. After shutting the lid, he plopped onto the top of the cooler. Resting his elbows and forearms on the tops of his legs, he ducked his head. “God, You know I’m awful prideful. Sometimes it works good—when it comes to farming or building things or odd jobs. I always do a good job. But sometimes that pride makes me not such a nice person.”

  He lifted his gaze up to the heavens. The summer sky was a beautiful clear blue with just a smattering of cotton candy–like clouds. The midday sun was hot, and he twisted off the cap to the water then took a long swig. He ducked his head again.

  “Something about Melody really rubs me wrong, and I’m not myself when I’m around her. I don’t like who I am, and I know You don’t either. Forgive me again, God. Show me how to be a witness to that woman.”

  He stood and stretched his back. The long hours keeping up the farm and working on his new home had stretched, pulled, and stiffened his muscles, especially in his back. He made his way back to the dump truck and checked the oil once more and the starter. Everything looked good.

  Knowing she should be ready for business, he hopped into the cab and turned the ignition. Nothing. Not even a whine or a groan.

  He turned the key and pulled it out of the ignition. Shoving it back into place, he twisted again. Still no sound. You’ve got to be kidding me.

  He hopped out of the cab and looked at the engine again. The spark plugs looked good, as did the engine, the starter—everything. It all looked to be in good working order.

  Jumping back in the cab, he tried to start her one more time. Still no sound. I cannot believe this.

  Drew stomped back to his pickup. He fumed as he drove toward town. His cell phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his front pocket. Seeing Mike’s name on the screen, he pushed the TALK button. “Mike, I need your help.”

  “Okay. I need a favor as well, but go ahead. What’s going on?”

  “The dump truck won’t start.”

  “I thought Melody was going to take a look at it.”

  Drew clenched his teeth so tight he felt his jaw would break. He gripped the steering wheel. “She did come by, but she left.”

  “What did you do?” Mike’s tone flattened.

  “I didn’t do anything. She came out here and looked at it.” Drew spit out the words. He could feel his blood pressure rising. He had to get that dump truck working so he could finish leveling off the site to get the foundation going. He didn’t have time to play games with some crazy, two-bit woman.

  Mike spoke again. “She couldn’t fix it?”

  “She wouldn’t fix it. The woman thought I brought her out here to charm her or something.”

  Mike’s guttural laugh sounded over the line. “You? Make a move on her?”

  His friend’s words struck a nerve, and Drew suddenly felt the urge to grab hold of Mike and punch him a good one. It wouldn’t be such an amazing feat for Drew to find the woman attractive. Melody was a very pretty girl, and when she wasn’t around Drew, she seemed to be fairly nice.

  He knew they had their no-woman pact and all, but it was obvious Wyatt and Nick didn’t care much about it. Maybe he didn’t care so much anymore either.

  Drew shook his head. What was he thinking? He wasn’t about to even consider that spitfire in any kind of romantic notion. The idea was preposterous. He barked at Mike, “Will you help me or not?”

  “You know I’ll help you, but I know—by far—less about vehicles than you do.”

  “I know.” Drew clicked the phone off and focused on the road. He really was trying to catch the wind asking Mike for mechanical help. If Nick were back from his honeymoon, the two of them together could probably figure it out, but Nick wouldn’t be back for well over another week. Drew wanted to be working on the foundation by then.

  If that woman hadn’t gone and gotten all hoity-toity, she could have fixed the truck, and I would have been leveling the ground right now. Admitting he needed her help tasted as bitter as battery acid, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  four

  Drew had given up. He’d worked on the dump truck for a week with no success. Mike looked at it, even though Drew knew that wouldn’t do any good. Drew’s dad looked at, as did Nick’s dad, Roy, and another one of the town’s mechanics. Drew could have whooped his own tail when Roy figured out it was the ignition. After he and Roy fixed it, the rotten truck still wouldn’t run. Obviously, Roy had been wrong.

  He tossed the wrench he was holding to the ground. It was ridiculous that the truck wouldn’t run. From the eye of a mechanic, it had every reason to work. He’d borrowed and rented the heavy machinery he needed, and he was on a tight schedule with some of the equipment. He bit back a growl. I can’t get started on the foundation if I can’t finish leveling out the ground.

  He wiped sweat from his brow. It was still early June, but Drew knew the summer months would pass him by all too soon. Though not in a big hurry for completion, he’d still hoped to have the house built by fall, the electric and plumbing all ready before winter, and to be living in his new house by Christmas. At this rate, I’ll have to spend another year living with my parents.

  At twenty-six and with two of his best buddies already married off and his baby sister married to one of them, Drew was beginning to feel like quite a moocher still living in his parents’ house. He had no plans of landing himself a wife, but he sure needed to feel like he was his own man. Not sleeping under his daddy’s roof.

  He growled as he walked toward what should have already been leveled land. He folded his arms across his chest and stared out at the pond. He’d spent many a night dreaming of sitting on his own back deck and watching the moon bathe the water with light.

  His last option in getting the truck working again was to call Melody. The idea churned his stomach. He’d heard she’d taken a job at AJ’s Auto Shop and that everyone in town was singing her praises when it came to her mechanic abilities. There were people coming from their neighboring towns with their trucks and tractors to see if the “pretty little woman,” as many of the old-timers called her, could fix their vehicles as good as they’d heard. So far, she seemed to have surpassed everyone’s expectations.

  Drew shook his head. The notion of that little gal digging around and under those oversized vehicles just didn’t seem right. She was too arrogant, too small, even a little too pretty to be doing a job like that. She should be tending the garden or cooking…. Drew let out a huff. The woman could fix a truck, but he would bet his best head of cattle that she couldn’t cook a decent meal if she tried.

  What do I care if the woman has a way with mechanics or if she can or can’t cook? Again, he thought of Wyatt’s scolding that Drew was too competitive. And why would I feel so threatened by the woman?

  He picked up a small stone, walked closer to the pond, then threw it, watching as it skipped along the top of the water. All these thoughts weren’t getting him anywhere.

  He needed to find someone to fix the dump truck, and he didn’t care if he was being silly—he had no intention of asking Melody Markwell for help. Instead, he’d just have to pay extra to have someone drive down from Lexington or Louisville.

  He turned and headed toward his pickup. He’d have to go home and call around to find out who he needed to get to look at it. The sound of gravel crunching beneath tires drew his attention to the road. He smiled and waved when he realized it was his dad. Then he saw who was in the passenger seat.

  He groaned and squinted to the heavens. Lord, help me to be nice. I can’t stand that woman.

  His dad stopped the truck then stepped out of the cab. He patted Drew’s shoulder a bit too hard. He understood his dad meant for him to be nice. If he could say it out loud, he’d assure his dad that though a war of fury was raging inside him that his dad would go behind his back like that, Drew would make every attempt to be a gentleman to the much-too-cocky and snappy gal. His dad cleared his throat. “Brought you some help for the dump truck.”

  “I see that.” Drew tried to smile as he spit the words through clenched teeth. Everything in him wanted to tell her to go home. He couldn’t believe she’d thought he’d bring her out here for sinister motives. Not only did it go against everything he believed as a Christian, but it also hurt his pride that she would think him that kind of guy.

  Melody hopped out of the cab then grabbed her toolbox from the bed of the truck. She walked toward Drew. “I’m doing this for your father, and only because he agreed not to sell his 1967 Mustang until I’ve had the chance to save enough money to buy it.”

  Drew gasped. He looked at his dad. “Your Mustang? What? Dad, what is she talking about?”

  His dad waved his hand in front of his face. “I was planning on selling her in a few months. Melody’s taken quite a liking to her, and I knew she’d be in good hands if Melody bought her off me.”

  Melody headed to the dump truck. Drew stared at his dad. “Since when were you going to sell the Mustang?”

  He nodded to the woman who now had the upper half of her body stuck underneath the steering wheel of the truck. “Since I saw that little lady’s eyes light up the first time she saw it.”

  “But you love that car.”

  His dad looked at him. “Really? You think so. I bought that thing three years ago, and I still haven’t taken the time to get her running. Melody’d have her on the road in a week’s time.”