Page 7 of Cowboy's Healing Heart

“Kennedy!” I call out, not recognizing my own voice. “Let me holler at you.”

He turns, those blue eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, I forget what I'm about to say. There’s something in his gaze that throws me off balance. Then I shake it off.

You’re not interested, I remind myself, watching his approach.

“What’s up, KD?” He asks, setting down the toolbox. The metal clangs against the packed earth, punctuating the tension in the air between us.

I gesture to the tractor behind me. “I need this engine overhauled by the end of the day. Think you can handle it?”

His eyebrow quirks up, a challenge in his eyes. “That’s a big job for one afternoon.”

“You saying you can’t do it?” I challenge, crossing my arms. The fabric of my work shirt pulls tight across my shoulders, reminding me of how tense I am.

Shane’s lips twitch, almost a smile. It softens his features, making him look younger and more approachable. “I didn’t say that. I’ll get it done.”

“Good.” I turn to leave, then pause. The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “And Kennedy? Don’t half-ass it. I’ll be checking your work.”

He steps closer, his posture relaxed but attentive. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I raise an eyebrow, wanting to challenge him while feeling the undeniable spark in the air between us. “I hope you can keep up. This isn’t just about turning wrenches; it’s about understanding how everything works together.”

Shane nods, his blue eyes steady on mine. “I’ve learned a thing or two about machinery. But I’m all ears if you want to give me the specifics.”

I appreciate his willingness to engage, even as I remind myself to keep my guard up. “Well, for starters, we alwaysprioritize safety. That means double-checking everything before we dive into repairs. No shortcuts, understood?”

“Got it. Safety first.” He leans against the tractor, the way he carries himself exudes confidence. “What else should I know?”

“I expect everyone to pull their weight. We work as a team here. No drama and no slacking off. We get things done right the first time.”

“Understood,” he replies, a teasing glint in his eyes. “And if I happen to impress you along the way?”

I can’t help but smile, even as I try to keep my tone serious. “Let’s just stick to the work, Kennedy.”

“Fair enough.” He chuckles, the sound deep and rich.

As I watch him, my heart races unexpectedly. There’s a magnetic pull between us that’s hard to ignore, a chemistry that crackles with each exchanged glance. I remind myself that I need to stay focused—this is a professional relationship, and he’s still my employee. I can’t let attraction cloud my judgment.

“All right then,” I say, shaking off the moment. “Let’s see what you can do. The tractor won’t fix itself.”

I leave with bigger problems to deal with. As I walk away, I can feel his eyes, but I don’t look back. The weight of his gaze is heavy, and I refuse to let it anchor me down. I can’t afford to let anyone in or show any weakness.

I’m the lead mechanic at Silver Creek Ranch and the only Black woman in a sea of men. There’s a level of scrutiny that comes with that role, an expectation to prove myself time and again. I’ve fought hard to earn my place here and can’t let any weakness slip through the cracks.

The drive into town is a blur. Fields of wheat and corn flash by, a golden sea under the midday sun, but their beauty registers. My mind keeps circling back to Ashanti, to the call from Jordan this morning, to the precarious life we’ve built here—always teetering on the edge of collapse.

Moving here is our chance to find a place where Ashanti can feel safe and make friends, to build a life where we don't have to keep looking over our shoulders, and maybe even find a community where we can belong.

Andy offered a six-month contract. The pay is average, but the accommodations are excellent, with a two-bedroom cabin, bonuses, and Ashanti having access to an exceptional education. The public schools here exceed those back home by a long shot.

And the icing on this cake was moving outside the reach of Jordan’s tentacles. Andy could give two fucks about Jordan’s money or his name.

I would have signed a contract for eternity to stop obsessing over when I’ll wake up and find him standing on my porch. Demanding custody of Ashanti just to fuck with me.

Well, apparently, South Dakota isn’t far enough. I might need to find a job on the fucking moon to get rid of his ass.

So, this contract hasn’t been just a job. It’s a lifeline, a chance to show that I’m not just capable but exceptional.

Women like me don’t often get this opportunity, and I’m painfully aware of how quickly it can be taken away. One misstep and I risk losing everything—not just my job but our stability.

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