“Hi, Clay. What’s up?” She drove around the corner and parked while she spoke to him.
“Are you in town?” From the amount of noise rumbling in the background, he sounded like he was on a piece of equipment.
“Yes. Why?” A sense of foreboding settled over Callan and she began to wish she hadn’t answered the phone, even if it was Clay.
“Can you please stop by the John Deere dealership and pick up some parts then run them out here. One of the tractors broke down and we’ve got to get it going right away.”
“Clay, I don’t …”
“Please, Laney. I already called and ordered the parts. All you have to do is go in, ask for them, and sign the bill. They’re in my name. Please?”
Callan would have to hurry, but she should be able to run the parts out to the ranch and return to town in plenty of time for her appointments.
“Fine. I’m on my way.” She disconnected and drove to the dealership.
The parts clerk had Clay’s order ready to go in a greasy cardboard box. Callan looked from the box to the clerk to her suit. Not willing to take a chance on getting dirty, she offered him a friendly smile and asked if someone could carry the box to the car for her. He agreed and she was soon on her way out to the ranch.
When she pulled in at the shop, Clay hurried over to her car. Dirt and grease covered him from head to toe. As Callan stepped from the car, he stuck a hand out toward her then pulled back before he made contact.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were dressed for your appointments. You look really nice.” Clay carefully leaned over to plant a kiss on her cheek, admiring the way her auburn hair glinted in the sun and her mint green outfit brightened the emerald sparkle in her eyes. “Did you get the parts?”
“Yes. They’re in the trunk.” Callan walked to the back of her car and lifted the trunk lid. Clay picked up the box of parts and went into the shop with them.
One of the hired hands who had worked on the Matthews Ranch for as long as Callan had been part of the family accompanied Clay when he returned outside.
“Howdy, Miss Callan. How are you?” he asked, politely.
“I’m just fine, Bud. How’s life treating you?” Callan smiled at the older man with genuine fondness.
“Can’t complain.” Bud turned back toward the shop as two of the ranch dogs ran from behind it, playing with each other. They had recently jumped in a ditch followed by a roll in the mud. When they came around the car, they stopped and gave themselves a vigorous shake, sending water, mud, and the smell of wet dog all over Callan and her pale green suit.
Bud and Clay watched in wide-eyed horror. To make things worse, one of the dogs jumped up on Callan leaving a trail of muddy paw marks down the front of her jacket and skirt.
“Down, Lady!” Callan wavered between the need to laugh or cry. “Down, girl.”
Instead of staying down, both dogs jumped up, trying to lick Callan’s face, pushing her off balance. Clay reached out to catch her, leaving smears of grease across both arms of her suit jacket.
“Oh, girl, I’m so sorry.” He took a step back. “I’m really, really sorry.”
Callan shot him a heated glare that would have melted lesser men, took off her ruined jacket, got in her car, and left without saying another word.
“I think you might be in a heap of trouble with Miss Callan, Clay.” Bud fought back an urge to laugh.
“I think you might be right.”
