Page 62 of If It's You

Maizie glared at him. “Jerk.”

Jayce chuckled and held up his hands. “I’m kidding. I could think of a few guys who might make that list.” His eyes flitted to Christian, and Maizie felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

Christian looked equally taken aback.

“Anyone but Turner.” Jayce shook his head.

“Mighty high bar,” Maizie mumbled and busied herself on her phone, trying not to appear fazed by the reminder of Turner’s idiocy. Their relationship had started because of a story she’d posted. She’d said, “I wish I could kiss you so I could get over you already.” He’d texted her not five minutes later asking whom she was referring to. She’d told him she’d tell him when she saw him next. Well, he’d picked her up in his truck twenty minutes later. So she’d kissed him. And unfortunately, it hadn’t been a one and done as she’d anticipated. She had thought of that time often while dating him, remembering the moment of pure anticipation and excitement, but now she just felt stupid. She should have never let it go on so long. Why did she keep dating duds?

Maizie looked up to catch Christian’s gaze on her. Her cheeks heated, and he looked away.

“I’m going to take the blue tractor again,” Maizie said.

Christian looked at her. “Why?”

“Because. . .it’s mine.” She wasn’t about to inform him that it was the only tractor with a good radio. He’d figure that out soon enough.

“But I just figured it out.”

“Don’t worry, they are all similar. Jayce can show you how to drive Mitchell’s. My dad will stick you on that one eventually so you should probably learn them all.” Maizie stood and walked to the tractor without waiting for his response.

By the time she reached the tractor, she was dying for some AC. It had to be at least 95 degrees, plus humidity. It always got really hot on the farm before it stormed. Storm clouds loomed in the distance, threatening the farm with some much-needed water, but they needed to finish before then.

The second she fell into the seat, she was enveloped by the lingering scent of Christian’s aftershave and cologne. The entire cabin smelled like him. She shivered, oddly satisfied by it.

She watched the boys get the other tractor started and kept her attention focused, letting the music take her far away from the alfalfa field.

* * *

Christian collapsedonto the couch at Grandma and Grandpa’s, stretching his legs out on the opposite armrest. He shouldn’t be tired. He’d been sitting all day. But the constant bumping and endless sitting, plus the heat, had completely worn him out. It was seven, which meant he’d been on the tractor for nearly eleven hours.

He enjoyed driving the tractor more than he thought he would. There was something so peaceful and serene about it. It had been fulfilling to see the field turn from cut hay to scattered bales. But it had also been wearisome. Especially after Maizie had tricked him into switching tractors. The radio in Mitchell’s tractor only worked when Christian headed north and went to complete static as soon as he turned south. It had been a long four hours.

“Oh, you poor things, you look exhausted,” Grandma said as she entered the living room.

“Yeah, you need to tell your son to take it easy on us,” Jayce said, his eyes still closed.

“I’ve got my famous bacon and beans cooking right now. That will fix you right up.”

Christian highly doubted beans were the cure to anything. Bacon, maybe. Beans, no.

Christian’s phone rang. He lazily swiped across the screen and laid it on the side of his face. “Hello.”

“Hi sweetie, how’s it going?” his mom said.

“It’s good. I’ve been baling hay all day. We just finished.” Christian said, sitting up on the couch.

“That sounds exciting.” His mom feigned a false enthusiasm only Christian could discern. His mom would never find driving a tractor exciting.

“Yeah. . .” Christian’s voice trailed off. His mom had already called him today. Which meant. . . “Is Emi okay?” He clenched the armrest of the couch.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s fine. Don’t worry about her.”

“Okay,” he let out a relieved breath. “Are you okay?”

His mother laughed. Actually, laughed. A sound he’d barely heard in the last twenty months. “When did you become such a worrier?”

Christian scrubbed a hand over his face.Since dad died.“Sorry. Can’t help it.”