The Rancher and the Girl Next Door. Jeannie Watt

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СКАЧАТЬ was brewing early today and Brett hoped he’d be able to get rid of the snake and return home before lightning began to strike.

      “It went behind the washer.”

      Brett grimaced. Nothing like moving a heavy major appliance with his worst nightmare lurking behind it.

      Claire opened the trailer door and stood back. The interior smelled of industrial-strength cleanser. Brett wheezed as the stringent odor hit his nostrils.

      “You know,” he said, “if you just close the door and give the snake a little time, it’ll probably pass out from the fumes.”

      “Very funny.”

      He sucked in a breath of fresh air, then stepped inside and headed down the hall to a narrow alcove where the washer was installed. Claire was close behind him. He grabbed a broom propped against the wall and handed it to her before taking hold of the washer, keeping his feet as far away as possible.

      “What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked, lifting the broom, a clunky wooden bracelet sliding down her arm in the process. Who cleaned house wearing a bracelet?

      “Defend us.”

      Brett took a firm hold and started rocking the appliance toward him, fully expecting the snake to shoot straight up his pant leg at any moment. Damn, he hated snakes.

      He finally got the heavy machine pulled out far enough so that he could see the snake coiled in the corner, looking as threatened as Brett felt. A blue racer. Fast but not dangerous. Unless it went up your pant leg.

      He reached his hand out for the broom. “Better stand back.”

      Brett gently nudged the snake into the hall, trying not to dance too much as he blocked the reptile’s repeated escape attempts with the broom, before finally managing to send it sailing through the front door. For several seconds it remained motionless, but then it came back to life and slithered off into the grass.

      From behind him, Brett heard Claire sigh with relief. He turned to give her an incredulous look.

      “Just because I don’t want it living with me doesn’t mean I want it to get hurt.”

      Brett closed the door. Sweat beaded his forehead, and it wasn’t entirely due to the hellishly hot interior of the trailer. He set the broom back against the wall, noticing that it was damp. He touched the surface again, experimentally, with the palm of his hand. She’d washed the walls.

      “Are you some kind of germophobe?” he asked as he pushed the door wide to let out both the heat and the cleaning fumes. She had the windows open, but the air was still in the heavy pre-thunderstorm atmosphere.

      “I prefer it to ophidiophobia.”

      “Ophidio…”

      “Fear of—”

      “I know what it is,” he snapped. Or at least he could make a good guess. He hadn’t realized it was that obvious. “I’m not afraid of snakes. I’m just cautious.” Like all sensible Nevadans. He wiped his sleeve over his damp forehead. “Why don’t you turn the cooler on?”

      “It made a funny noise, like it was losing a bearing.” Her green eyes were steady on his. “I didn’t want to bother you. I thought I’d find out who the local handyman was.”

      Brett walked over to the cooler panel and flipped the pump switch, followed by the blower switch. A low screech became progressively louder as the blower wheel began to turn. He quickly snapped both switches off. Yes, it did sound like a bearing was going, and for some reason he hated the fact she had figured that out.

      “I’ll have a look at it.” He could not leave her in a hotbox until Manny Fernandez had time to come round and fix the cooler. She’d likely be using the furnace by that time—which was also probably in need of repair.

      “I don’t suppose you have any tools?”

      She walked into the kitchen and returned a few seconds later with a zebra-striped tool kit.

      “It was a gift,” she said before he had time to comment. “From the class I student—taught last year.”

      Brett felt an unexpected desire to smile at the defensiveness in her voice. So Claire’s fashion sense had its limits. “They must have liked you.”

      “We…developed a rapport,” she said cryptically, as she followed him outside.

      There was an old wooden ladder lying beside the trailer, and Brett propped it up against the siding. A sudden gust of wind almost knocked it over again. He waited a moment until the wind settled down, making the air seem heavier than before, and then he began to climb.

      Swamp coolers were not complex machines, and it wasn’t too difficult to tell that this one was on its last legs. Claire was in for a warmish time in her trailer. He’d have to see about ordering parts, if they still made them for this dinosaur.

      The ladder shifted, and a moment later Claire climbed up onto the roof herself. Somehow he wasn’t surprised.

      “Another snake?” he asked wryly.

      “Just curious. Someday I may have to fix this thing myself.”

      “You going to be here that long?”

      “Ten months, and then back to grad school. What’s the prognosis?” she asked.

      “Terminal.” The wind gusted again and the first faint rumblings of thunder sounded in the distance. The storm was moving in fast. “We’d better get down to the ground.” He closed the cooler’s heavy hinged cover.

      Once they were back on solid earth, Brett put the ladder beside the trailer and handed Claire her tools. “I’m going to Wesley tomorrow. I’ll see about getting some parts, if they still make them. If not, I’ll see about a new cooler.” He felt bad leaving her in an oven. “It’s going to be kind of hot without it.”

      “That’s the beauty of being a Vegas native. I’m used to it.” She pushed her choppy bangs away from her forehead. They stuck up, giving her a punk rock look. She smiled. “So…You want to go down to the bar and grab a bite or have a drink? As a thank-you?”

      He hesitated just a little too long.

      “I take it that’s a no.”

      He wasn’t sure how to say what he needed to without being insulting and possibly pissing off his brother for not being nice to Claire. “Look,” Brett said in what he hoped was a reasonable tone, “I’ll help you out whenever you need it, but I’m not much of a socializer.”

      “What does that mean?”

      That I’m not going to risk screwing up again with someone so closely tied to my brother?

      “It just means I’m not much on socializing,” he said with a touch of impatience. “It’s nothing personal.” Not the total truth, but close enough.

      “All right.” She didn’t look particularly offended, but the smile was gone from her eyes. “I guess I’ll get back to work. Thanks for the СКАЧАТЬ