Page 18 of Cowboy's Healing Heart

I frown. “I was just about to say that.”

He glances at me, one eyebrow raised. “Of course you were.”

His calm confidence grates on my nerves. I cross my arms, watching as he reaches for a wrench, the expanse of his bicep flexing with the movement.

Damn it, why does he have to look so at ease?

“You sure you know what you’re doing?” I can’t help but ask, a hint of sarcasm edging my voice.

Shane glances up, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, come on, KD. I’ve worked on engines before. Trust me, it’s all just nuts and bolts.”

“So, you’re from New York.”

He nods, and a flicker of something passes through his expression—maybe nostalgia. “Yeah, originally from upstate. I spent a lot of time in the city, though, before joining the Marines.”

“Thank you for your service,” I say, my tone softening a bit. “What brings you here?”

“Andy extended an offer. Figured being out here would give me some space before heading back home.” His tone is casual, but there’s an undercurrent there, one that makes me curious about the details he’s not sharing.

“What about you?” he asks, shifting the conversation back.

“I’m on a six-month contract,” I respond, crossing my arms tighter as I study him.

“And when that’s done?”

“I’ll move to the next ranch. Just go wherever the work takes me. And you?”

“Return home.”

Our gazes lock for a moment, each of us holding back layers of our lives we’re reluctant to share.

“So, you sure you know what you’re doing?” I finally repeat, a teasing tone slipping back in.

Shane chuckles, breaking the tension as he resumes examining the engine. “I’ve worked on my fair share of engines, KD. Trust me, I can handle this.”

There’s that word again. Trust. It sticks in my throat like a jagged pill.

“Yeah, well, just don’t make it worse,” I mutter.

We work in tense silence for a while, the only sounds the clink of tools and the occasional grunt of effort. Despite my irritation, I can’t help but notice how efficiently Shane moves, his hands sure and steady as he works on the engine.

“Hand me that socket wrench, would you?” he asks, not looking up from his task.

I grab the tool, our fingers brushing as I pass it to him. A jolt of electricity shoots up my arm at the contact. I pull back quickly, my heart racing.

“Thanks,” Shane says, his voice low.

I clear my throat, trying to regain my composure. “So, where’d you learn to work on engines anyway? Didn’t think they taught that in the Marines.”

Shane chuckles, the sound sending an unwelcome warmth through my chest. “You’d be surprised what they teach us. But I picked up most of it growing up. My grandfather had a farm and spent summers there as a kid.”

I raise an eyebrow. “A farm boy, huh? Wouldn’t have pegged you for that.”

He shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, KD.”

Something in his tone makes me pause. There’s a weight to his words, a hint of something deeper. But before I can dwell on it, he speaks again.

“What about you? How’d you end up as a mechanic?”

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