Page 18 of Long Hard Fall

A surge of hope rose, but she feared he’d take it back if she agreed. She clenched the straps of her bag. “I’m not relegated to grain truck duty?”

“I know this is hard for both of us,” he continued. “I understand where you’re coming from, I really do. So why don’t we just hang out and swap Daniels—Perry—stories.”

She snatched up the olive branch. “What do I need to pack?”

Chapter 6

Abbi had expected meeting one of Cash’s cousins to be awkward. The driver of the combine was gone, but Aaron had been waiting for them in the grain truck; Cash hadn’t needed someone for it. When Aaron spotted them, he’d hopped out of the vehicle and rushed over, almost wiping out in the field in his haste.

Aaron had reddish-blond hair and startling blue eyes like Cash. Not as brilliant, crystal blue, but stunning on their own.

She wondered how Cash would introduce her, but he did it smoothly. “She’s the sister of an army buddy we lost in Iraq.”

Aaron’s eyes flared, but he recovered his composure quickly and shook her hand. “I’m sorry for your loss. Have you talked to Dillon yet?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but Cash beat her to it. “No. I’ll give him a call and see if he can meet us later.”

Abbi restrained herself from throwing a hug around Cash’s broad shoulders. He’d almost shut her down cold yesterday, and again today, but now he was going out of his way to help her.

Cash and Aaron discussed plans for finishing this field. Abbi soaked in the farmer speak. Her grandpa had died when she was a teenager, but she’d gotten to spend several summers running through corn rows and crawling over hay bales.

Aaron jogged back to the white grain truck, but not before he cast a speculative look toward her and Cash. Yeah, she knew how it looked. A man like Cash didn’t bring a girl around out of pure friendship, maybe not ever, so her standing here was a big deal.

Crowding into the combine with Cash was almost as intimate as being in the same bed. They were fully clothed this time, and floor-to-ceiling windows surrounded them, but it was just them, side by side.

Cash fiddled with the radio but kept the volume down. He flipped on the computer and punched in some buttons. Abbi craned her neck to take it all in. The control console was way more complex than a video game. Switches and levers lined one side, there had to be about twenty of them. A screen was positioned over them and another controller looked like a joystick.

Cash noticed her inspection. “It’s called precision farming. Probably not what your granddaddy did.”

“Oh, he was precise.” She chuckled. “Most Midwest farmers don’t let anything go to waste.”

“Yes, we always tried to optimize our yield, but now we have GPS guiding the tractor so not one stalk of corn or one soybean plant goes to waste.”

“What happened to wheat?” Golden fields were everywhere, but she hadn’t seen much for wheat on the Walker’s land.

“We still grow wheat and sunflowers, the standards. Beans are the shit now. Canola. I wish we lived closer to a sugar beet processing plant. Sugar beets can make it a good year if gas prices are down; otherwise hauling them is costly. We get together and plan each year depending on the markets.”

The ride wasn’t as bumpy as expected and Abbi relaxed into her seat while Cash drove. The grain sprayed right into the truck and when it was full, he shut the auger off. The hopper was almost full by the time Aaron got back from emptying his load into the grain bins. Cash and Aaron worked together seamlessly; this was obviously a process they’d been doing as soon as they could drive—probably before they’d gotten their licenses.

He lumbered to a stop. “The hopper’s full. Aaron’ll be back soon. We try to have more than one driver, but sometimes the fields argue with us and want to be harvested on top of each other. Dillon and Travis are working on another section and Brock’ll jump in with another truck when he gets back.”

“Grandpa used to work with his neighbors. There’d be like three or four combines working a stretch.” She smiled and angled toward him. “I always thought it was neat when it got dark and you could see these massive machines out there, with lights that rivaled football stadiums.”

Cash grinned in return. “You should’ve caught us a month ago. That’s exactly what it was like.” He pointed off in the distance. She stretched until she could make out a copse of trees and silver bins poking over the top. “That’s the neighbor we team up with most years. Another neighbor is closer, but when he died, the farm died with him. Not that he would’ve helped us anyway.”

She caught his gaze and they both froze. They were inches apart and his scent surrounded her. He smelled wild, like the great outdoors—and she liked wild.

Her gaze dipped down to his lips. This close, tastes and textures flooded her brain. She’d nibbled on him that night, and she wanted to do it again, only one hundred percent sober.

He swayed closer; she inched toward him.

The sharp bleat of a horn startled both of them.

Cash swore and twisted to look out the window. Aaron had arrived and given the warning honk for Cash to start moving.

They lurched forward. Abbi’s pounding heart faded in disappointment. A kiss from Cash would’ve been worth the epically bad decision.

“These are the straggler crops.” Cash’s tone was light, like they’d never been about to make out. “We pick them off as they’re ready. Does your grandpa still farm?”

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