Chapter 15

Cameron

I pull Uncle Ken’s truckalongside the white fence separating the dairy barn from the farmhouse and shift into park. I pick up the box holding three jars of pickles Aunt Jane insisted I deliver to Mrs. Kincaid, although I do sense she has an ulterior motive. Subtlety has never been one of Aunt Jane’s specialties.

After our date Friday, Samantha and I went out again Saturday night and Sunday after church she invited me over for dinner with her family. Monday morning, we began harvesting cucumbers, and though we’ve talked either on the phone or through text, I haven’t seen her in a few days.

As I walk toward the house, the sound of metal striking metal followed by a frustrated growl fills the air. I halt all forward motion and turn to see Samantha’s denim-covered backside as she stands on the front tire of the tractor bent over the engine. Enticing images flood my mind, but I tamp them down, so I don’t embarrass myself.

I sit the box of pickles down on the porch step and change directions. I wait until I’m within earshot before speaking to not startle her. One more whack from the wrench in her hand has me feeling sorry for the old Ford. “What did that tractor ever do to you?”

Failing at not startling her, Samantha jumps hitting her head on the engine cover while losing her footing. My arm wraps around her waist as I catch her and set her on the ground.

Eyes the color of topaz find mine as she rubs the back of her head. “Cameron, what are you doing here?”

I look down and shuffle my feet. “Well, I was trying not to scare you, but that didn’t work out so well.” I lift my hand to check her head but reconsider and lower it back to my side. “Are you okay? Want me to take a look?”

Samantha flashes me a quick smile, “It’s fine. It’s just a bump, no blood,” she says as she pulls her hand away and shows me. “See?”

“Good, but you should still put some ice on it.”

“I will, promise. You didn’t answer my question, what are you doing here?”

I swing my gaze back to the porch and point to the box sitting on the step, “Aunt Jane and Aubrey have been canning pickles all day, they asked me to drop off a few jars to you all.”

She smiles. “How sweet of them, tell them thank you for me.”

“I will. I apologize again for scaring you,” I say as I gesture toward the tractor. “I thought I may be able to help you out or at least save the tractor from another beating.”

Her cheeks flush. “I’m trying to replace a hose, but the bolt holding it in place is stuck.”

“Did you try WD-40?”

Samantha pops her hip as she glares at me. “Yes.”

I chuckle. “Sorry, I should have known that would’ve been the first thing you tried.” I hold my hand out for the wrench, “May I?”

“Be my guest,” she says, placing the wrench in my hand. “I’ve been working on this tractor most of my life, you’d think she’d help a girl out. I got one side off but this one wouldn’t move.”

“Well,” I start as I place the wrench on the offending bolt. “I think engines are like people.” I pull on the wrench adding a little extra elbow grease trying to get it to budge. “If they don’t get the attention they deserve they hold a grudge.” After another attempt, the nut moves and I’m able to remove the hose. I hop down to the ground and present Samantha with the object of her struggle. “She gave me some trouble too, but I couldn’t let her embarrass me in front of a beautiful woman,” I confess with a wink.

Samantha rolls her eyes as she tries to suppress a smile. “Heavens no, we wouldn’t want that.”

I chuckle at the sarcasm dripping from her words. “Want some help putting the new one on?”

“I don’t want to keep you, I’m sure you have plenty to do.”

“Nah, Craig and Kenny run the farm like a well-oiled machine. They probably haven’t even noticed I’m gone.”

Her brown eyes swing up to mine giving me an incredulous look. “I know that’s not true, but I would appreciate the help. On one condition.”

I raise a brow at her. “What’s that?”

“You let me say thank you by staying for dinner.”

I can’t resist teasing her a little. “Will there be banana puddin’?”

She laughs. “No, but there will be blackberry pie.”

A wide smile takes over my face as my mouth waters. One of the things I love about living in the south is that dessert is considered part of the meal. “You drive a hard bargain, Samantha Kincaid, but you’ve got yourself a deal.”

When we finish dinner,much to Mrs. Kincaid’s dismay, I stand and begin helping Samantha clear the table. “Cameron, I can get those.”

“No ma’am, you cooked a delicious meal and shared it with me, the least I can do is help clean up.”

Samantha hides a smile and I wink at her as her mother concedes. “Okay, if you insist.”

I follow Samantha into the kitchen. When she places her dishes in the sink, I step up beside her and place the dishes I’m carrying on the counter. She looks up at me and smiles. “That’s the fastest I’ve ever seen anyone charm my mother.”

I lean in next to her ear and whisper, “Who says I was trying to charm her? Maybe I was trying to get some time alone with you.”

She turns her head bringing her mouth so close to mine I can feel her breath against mine. Her eyes dart to my mouth before her tongue slips out to wet her plump bottom lip. Samantha closes her eyes to clear the tension between us and takes a step back. “Dessert?”

I straighten as a satisfied grin teases my lips. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Samantha hands me a stack of dessert plates topped with fresh silverware, while she grabs the pie off the counter. “Who’s ready for dessert?”

Mr. Kincaid moves his glass of iced tea out of the way. “I’ve been waiting all day for this.”

Samantha smiles as she hands her dad a plate with a perfect slice of blackberry pie. “Daddy, you say the same thing every night no matter what we have for dessert.”

Samantha hands a plate to her mom and then one to me before cutting a slice for herself. I take a bite and nod my appreciation. “I agree with you, sir. If you asked me what I missed most about home while in the Army, dessert would be in the top five.”

Mrs. Kincaid runs her fork into the pie to get another bite. “You boys didn’t get any type of dessert with your meals?”

“We occasionally had cake, but it was nothing like this.” I point to my almost devoured slice of pie with my fork. “This is delicious, by the way.”

Samantha looks up at me from across the table. “Thank you.”

“You made this?”

Mrs. Kincaid speaks up. “Samantha makes most the desserts.”

Samantha shrugs. “I enjoy baking, especially for others.”

“Well anytime you feel the urge to bake, keep me in mind.”

A light pink colors Samantha’s cheeks as she smiles and glances up at me. “I will.”

As the sunbegins to set, Mr. Kincaid rises from his seat. “Well, I better close up the barn.”

I rise from my seat stopping him. “I can do that for you sir. I should get going anyway.”

Samantha stands. “I’ll walk out with you.”

Mr. Kincaid glances at his wife before turning his eyes back to me and offering me his hand. “I’d appreciate it.”

“My pleasure, sir.” I turn my attention to Mrs. Kincaid. “Thank you again for dinner, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t be a stranger; you’re welcome at our table anytime.”

“Thank you ma’am,” I reply, following Samantha out onto the porch. Once we’re alone, I reach out and take her hand in mine. She glances down at our joined hands and smiles as we walk out to the barn.

As we reach the barn, she turns to stand in front of me. “You know, you should feel honored. Momma doesn’t hand out open invitations to dinner freely.”

I release her hand and rest my hands on her hips, drawing her closer to me. “Is that right?”

Samantha rests her hands on my arms. “Mmmhmm.”

I search her brown eyes. “And what about you? Would you mind if I came to dinner more often?”

She shrugs shyly as her fingers caress my forearms. “I think I could get used to seeing more of you.”

I smile at her reply. “Good to know.” I drop my hands from her waist and take her hand entwining my fingers with hers. “Better get busy checking things out before your dad comes looking for us.”

Samantha laughs. “You don’t have to worry; Momma will make sure he leaves us alone.”

“I’m liking your momma more all the time.”

We walk the length of the barn making sure the cows are settled for the night. When we are certain everyone is safe and sound, Samantha flips off the lights and we secure the barn door.

“How often do you do this by yourself?”

She shakes her head. “Not very often. Daddy usually takes care of it. I think he likes to have a few minutes to himself before calling it a night.”

“I hope I didn’t step on his toes by offerin’ to do this.”

“No, he seemed pleased you offered.”

“Good. Walk me to my truck?”

“Yeah.”

When we reach the truck, I lean against the driver’s door and position Samantha in front of me. “Thank you again for dinner.”

“No thanks needed; you earned it helping me with the tractor.”

“Well, anytime you need help with anything mechanical, I’m your man.”

Samantha looks down, and then back up at me and smiles. “My own personal mechanic, I like that idea.”

A moment of silence passes between us, her brown eyes locked on my hazel ones. I can feel the pull between us, and it takes all my self-control not to take her in my arms and kiss her like I’ve wanted to since the night we went to dinner. Instead, I take a breath, straighten and reach into my pocket for the truck keys.

“I should get going.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you have an early day tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” I lean in, kiss her cheek, and whisper. “Good night, sweet Samantha.”

Samantha’s breath catches as my lips caress her cheek. “Good night, Cameron.”