Reclaimed by Jennifer Rodewald Read Free Book Online Page A

friendship? Suzanna grappled with the anomaly.
    Forget it. Maybe country boys were just different stock altogether. “Cream?”
    “Only if it’s flavored.”
    Weird. Jason hated the stuff, of any variety. He called it slime. “Sorry. I only have the plain kind.”
    Paul held up his hand. “No problem. Just sugar, if you have some.”
    Sugar? What a terrible thing to put in a good brew. “Sweet tooth?”
    “Huge. Candy, soda, cookies.” He laughed. “I still put sugar on my cereal.”
    Yuck. Suzanna ate her Grape Nuts plain.
    “I have an affection for Lucky Charms,” he continued. “Just in case you ever wonder what to get me for Christmas. I can go through a whole box in a day.”
    She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t tell me you drink the sugary milk when the cereal’s gone.”
    “You bet.” He gave her a playful duh look. “It’s the best part.”
    Suzanna took down her sugar tub and snagged a soupspoon from the silverware drawer. “Heap it in when I’m not looking.”
    “Health nut?”
    “No. Just not a sugar fiend.”
    She hadn’t ever been, really, but she’d basically lived without it while she was with Jason. Suzanna grabbed two mugs and redirected her thoughts. Sliding onto the chair across from Paul, she wondered what to say next.
    Two heaping spoonfuls drowned in his black coffee. Suzanna wrinkled her nose.
    Paul grinned. “You said you wouldn’t watch.”
    “That is disgusting.”
    “Have you tried it?”
    “No.”
    “Then how do you know?”
    Suzanna looked at his sugar-laced coffee and shook her head.
    Paul laughed and took a sip. “So, did the mud hole dry up?”
    Oh yes. The broken pipe. That was why he was here. “I haven’t been out there yet.”
    He sat back against his chair, his posture easy. Likable. “I wanted to check the damage before I drove the tractor down here.” He tipped his mug for another swig and grinned. “Actually, I thought you’d like a go at it.”
    “A go at what?”
    “The tractor. Do you want to drive it?”
    Drive a tractor? Was it a stick shift? Do tractors shift? Suzanna didn’t know the first thing about farm equipment.
    “I wouldn’t—” She traced the handle of her mug. Paul was offering her help. Dignified help. A learning experience, which was more than a pat-on-the-head, I’ll-indulge-you kind of gesture. “I don’t know anything. Will I break it?”
    “You can’t do anything I haven’t done myself.” He drained his sugar-with-coffee. “I’ll go look at the damage. Do you need to finish up?” He tipped his head toward her office.
    She did. “I have about thirty minutes of work left, and then I can take a break. Will that be okay?”
    Paul nodded. “Like I said, I wanted to inspect the problem first anyway. That way, I’ll know what else we’ll need to fix it. Are you okay with me poking at it without you?”
    He was asking? During a single cup of coffee, he’d managed to blow away all her despised assumptions about him, and arrogant cowboys in general.
    No, she didn’t mind. Help would be a welcomed relief.

    “Miss Wilton.”
    Suzanna froze, her hand still clutching the deposit slip. Though they’d only spoken twice, she knew that voice. It set the hair on her neck on end.
    “Yes?”
    “I’m glad to run into you today.” Chuck Stanton stepped closer, his black boots slapping against the tiled floor. “Did you get what you needed?”
    They were in a bank, not a warehouse. Did he think she needed help reaching the deposit envelopes on the top shelf? “I did, thank you.”
    “Good. We strive for excellent service, even out here in the sticks.”
    Sticks. That was ironic. Only the windbreaks and narrow creek banks had trees; the rest of the prairie was as wide open as an empty stadium. Suzanna nodded, biting her tongue as she stepped away.
    “How are things out your way?”
    Her feet halted, and she forced her gaze back to him. The man was a bit on the strange side. He gelled his hair and combed it smooth; a style