Farmer Boys and City Girls

By K. Rowe

Contemporary soft-erotic romance.

One woman and two ruggedly handsome brothers equal an unbridled love triangle.

Mary Jane Ripley is a tough Chicago businesswoman. The last place she ever expected to find herself was in the heart of rural eastern Kentucky. But after a disastrous divorce she decided to leave the city and her lying, cheating ex-husband far behind. She swapped her penthouse for a crumbling 100-year-old farmhouse and life in the country. Being a city girl all her life, she had no experience with Southern men.

Toby Farmer comes from a long line of farmers. He and his brash younger brother, Nate, work hard to keep the family’s way of life. The brothers couldn’t be more opposite. When not fighting to stay out of the poorhouse, they’re fighting to get their youngest brother, Dewey, off drugs. It’s a hardscrabble life, but one neither of them would trade for the world.

Little did Mary Jane know that she'd meet her knight in faded blue jeans at a tractor rally. Being wooed by both brothers, Mary Jane finds her heart torn in two directions. When she uncovers Toby has a secret vow, she must decide which part of her heart will lead to true happiness. Will it be sizzling hot Nate? Or the more conservative Toby? Will she listen to her heart or follow her lust?

• Language: English
• Publisher: K. Rowe
• Release date: May 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781497341746

K. Rowe

After serving over 20 years in the Air Force, I made the ultimate job switch: to farmer and author. It was a drastic change, not to mention a drastic pay cut! I've been writing 25+ years and have been published in a variety of media: book, newspaper, photography, and magazine. I love to write, it seems to be a passion I can't ever seem to satisfy.It started out back in the day with the first book of the Dragonslayers Saga. Project: Dragonslayers is an MWSA award winning novel about an unlikely Special Forces team who are thrown headlong into the world of counterterrorism. The second book, Dragonslayers: Mind Games, continues the saga where the team enters the twisted world of al-Qaeda. They must find the source of a mystery explosive, or risk losing more innocent civilians to attacks. This book was selected for the MWSA summer 2011 reading list. The third book in the series is Dragonslayers: Battle Rhythm. This time it's Yemen, and the team finds out they're not invincible. Two more books in this series are slated for release: Kill Box (2013) and Critical Mass (2016?).Also I've expanded my work in other genres. Out now is the best-selling contemporary romance, Cowboys and Olympians. You'll meet and fall in love with Leo Richards, a champion reining horse trainer, as he tries to convince himself that he can love again after his wife and unborn child were killed in a fiery car crash. He falls for Katie Shulman, a rich, stubborn woman who just doesn't like cowboys. I'm currently writing another romance titled Silks and Sand about a Kentucky horse-racing family that falls on hard times. The owner, Evan Stoddard, hopes to regain their glory by putting a big bet on an unlikely horse and rider combination—a bet that threatens to ruin his life.If supernatural thriller/ horror appeals to you, check out The Hall. You'll meet Marcus Bishop, wealthy Memphis book publisher; his new and terrifically eccentric best friend, Prince Mongo; along with a ghost and demons that haunt the old castle Marcus buys.After taking a dare from a horror author friend of mine, I started work on the “Space” series. Space Crazy introduces you to Dar Meltom, a half breed alien who's had a rough life. He longs for a life in the stars, and as difficult as it is, his mother manages to give that to him. Space Junk, Space Available, and Space Invaded are all available. I am working on probably the last book in the series: Space Vanguard.So far I've enjoyed working in all these genres, and have started converting some stories into screenplays. There are more things I'm working on, too numerous to mention. So keep checking my Facebook pages to see if there's anything new.I was given a rare distinction of placing 1st in Ron Knight's top 100 Facebook authors of 2012. He starts with 8,000 and narrows it down to 100. An honor indeed.As always, I appreciate feedback and book reviews. I'm a small fish in a huge ocean just trying to stay afloat. I love my writing and pour heart and soul into each work I do.MWSA: Military Writer's Society of America http://www.militarywriters.com/http://sturgeoncreek.blogspot.com/Twitter: sturgeon3736http://www.facebook.com/pages/K-Rowe-Author/136794706391542http://www.facebook.com/pages/Project-Dragonslayers/411626645650

Book preview

Farmer Boys

and

City Girls

by

K. Rowe

Copyright 2014 by K. Rowe at Smashwords

All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.

First printing

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN 13: 978-1497341746

ISBN 10: 1497341744

Copyright 2014 by K. Rowe at Smashwords

All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.

First printing

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN 13: 978-1497341746

ISBN 10: 1497341744

Sturgeon Creek Publishing

Editing: Joyce M. Gilmour

www.editingtlc.com

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

About the author

More from K. Rowe

1

Mary Jane reared back and let fly, kicking the daylights out of the bottom link on the three-point hitch. Oh, you bitch! She kicked again. The 4 X 4 post holding up the 500-pound moldboard plow teetered and dropped. The plow toppled over, landing on the soft, damp morning grass with a heavy thud. There was no way her one hundred fifty pounds could wrestle the hefty farm implement back to upright.

Argh! Now what am I gonna do? She took a wild swing in the cool October air. I got five minutes to make it to my exhibition, and now I can’t get the plow attached. Taking a step back, she looked at her tractor. It was nothing fancy, just a sixty-year-old hunk of rusting metal. What possessed her to think she had something special to show off to the world? Why was she wasting a perfectly good weekend on this? She realized she must be crazy.

Looking around the fairgrounds, she noticed all the beautifully restored tractors. There was a multitude of brilliant colors: yellow and green John Deeres, orange and yellow Cases, fire-engine red Farmalls, dark orange Allis Chalmers, and brilliant blue Fords. The area was awash with the chugging sounds of vintage engines, crowds chatting, and bluegrass music, not to mention the occasional resounding crack of an engine backfiring. And the surrounding hills were clothed in vibrant fall shades nearly matching those of the tractors. The rich aroma of BBQ competed with exhaust fumes.

Need some help? a male voice called from behind; it was laced with a thick Kentucky accent.

Mary Jane turned around. She was face to face with a dashingly handsome man. Well, as dashing as his torn green t-shirt, faded jeans, and work boots would allow. He carried a rag, and there was a rather large grease smear down his left cheek. His eyes were dazzling Ford blue.

Uh… she stammered, surprised to see someone wearing a t-shirt in the chilly morning air.

He gestured. Need help with your plow?

Oh, yes. I can’t get it attached. She stared up at him, guessing he stood close to six feet tall. His hair was dark brown with a little bit of wave to it. He was of average build, maybe a little on the lanky side. What caught her eye was his right arm. His tanned forearm was quite disfigured and scarred. MJ guessed it was from a farming accident. He looked to be in his late 30s, maybe early 40s.

Well, it goes on better when it’s upright.

Yeah, I…I know, she replied sheepishly, knowing her temper tantrum was inexcusable.

He bent down, grabbed the plow by the hitch points, and with a loud grunt, hefted it back up.

Mary Jane quickly shoved the 4 X 4 post under it. Thanks. She was amazed at his sheer strength.

No problem. He went forward to the tractor, popped the foot brake, and returned to the plow. Using his strength, he pushed against the large rear wheel of the tractor to bring the linkage points back to the plow. Within thirty seconds it was attached.

Wow, thanks! Mary Jane said, trying to keep her jaw from hanging open.

Welcome, he said with a polite nod and a broad smile. I’m Toby. He tried to wipe the grease off his hands before offering one. Toby Farmer.

Mary Jane wasn’t going to be discourteous to her knight in faded blue jeans. She readily took his hand. Mary Jane Ripley, but everyone just calls me MJ.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. You don’t sound like you’re from around here.

Um, no. Actually I moved here from Chicago. As her hand slid, she gestured to his face. You, uh, umm, have—

What?

She pointed. Uh, grease. You got a big smear of grease on your face.

Toby laughed and wiped it off. Chicago? What’s a pretty, big-city lady like you doin’ out here in the Kentucky country? He walked with her as she went around and prepared to climb into the hard metal pan seat of the tractor. As she put her back to him to step up, he liked what he saw. She was a good few inches shorter than he; her shoulder-length hair was medium brown with some blonde highlights. Her jeans conveniently hugged her hips, showing off all her lovely curves.

I left to get away from it all. She settled into the seat, giving the stick shift a wiggle to ensure it was in neutral. I have an ex-husband there and I wanted to put some distance between us.

Oh, Toby said softly. Well, I’d say this is some distance…But why the country?

Always loved animals. When I was younger, my parents wouldn’t let me have any pets.

That ain’t right.

We lived in a high-rise apartment. Mother wasn’t going to deal with them.

Mmm. I guess I was just the opposite. I had all sorts of critters. But Ma drew the line when I brought home a baby coon.

Coon? As in raccoon?

Toby smiled. Yeah, the little bugger got into the kitchen cabinets and made a huge mess of the place. There was chocolate sauce, ketchup, and flour all over the place!

Oops! She giggled and flicked the key to the start position. Uh, hey, I gotta run. I’m supposed to be exhibiting this hunk of junk.

He stepped back and gave the tractor a looking over. Hmm, I’d say she’s a ’53 Ferguson.

Mary Jane finally let her jaw drop. Yes! How’d you know?

Been on a tractor all my life. You get to know ’em.

Her name’s Fergie, and she’s been a real bitch lately.

Toby rested his hand on the weathered red hood. She’s not the color she’s supposed to be.

Yeah, I know. According to what I saw on the internet, she’s supposed to be a darker gray.

Yup. He pointed. There’s a restored one over there.

Yeah, saw it. Drooled. She pushed the button, the engine grumbled to life. Oh, at least you decided to start this morning!

He chuckled. Lemme guess, she’s a work in progress?

Completely. MJ pushed her left foot on the clutch arm. My dream is to restore her.

Good luck on that.

Giving the throttle a bump with her hand, she reached behind her left leg and threw the power takeoff, or PTO lever, which turned on the rear driveshaft used for running farm implements. Then she reached behind her right thigh and yanked up the draft lever. Gently lifting her foot off the clutch, she watched the three-point hitch raise the plow a foot into the air. Ah, maybe this will be a good morning after all.

The loudspeaker announced the parade of tractors from the 1940s and 50s.

Oh, that’s me! MJ said. Do you have a tractor here?

Yeah.

Aren’t you going to show yours too?

Toby gestured over his shoulder. "Mine’s a weeeee bit older."

How much older?

Nineteen twenty-nine.

She shifted into first gear and slowly let out the clutch. The tractor bucked and the engine coughed a couple of times before moving off at a leisurely three miles per hour. And what do you have?

Toby easily kept pace with her. "My gal is a Case L."

Really?

"Come by after you get done, I’ll introduce you to Mable." He stopped, letting her pass.

MJ turned and smiled over her shoulder as she headed to the exhibit area. Okay!

The arena set aside to exhibit tractors was about the size of a football field. MJ wafted her hand in front of her face. The old tractor ahead of her was belching out acrid blue smoke from its smokestack. She coughed once and tried to slow down some. Glancing back, she saw another tractor not far behind. She was stuck. A dozen tractors were chugging around at turtle speed.

Now she really hated the idea of showing her tractor. As she looked at the others, noticing they were in near factory-mint restored condition, MJ realized this looked bad. And then to add insult, Fergie’s engine died.

Hey! Move on! the exhibitor behind called.

MJ pivoted in her seat. Sorry, she died.

He steered his tractor around and kept going. She tried several times to start the engine but with no luck. All MJ could do was sit there and look stupid as tractor after tractor passed her. She put her face in her hands.

The clanking of metal got her attention. Looking up, she saw Toby had come from out of nowhere and sprang into action. With a wrench in one hand and a pair of pliers in the other, he was feverishly working on the engine. Can you fix her? MJ asked, hopping down and going around to him.

Maybe, he replied, keeping his concentration focused on the job at hand. These old engines are temperamental.

Tell me about it!

My papaw had a similar tractor, and he was always complainin’ about the fuel system or the points. He worked the line loose from the fuel filter to the carburetor. Gasoline dribbled out followed by some gunky brown chunks. Yup, same problem. Toby bled the line for a few moments before reconnecting it. Then he took the rag from his back pocket and wiped any spilled gas from the engine. Okay, give her a try.

MJ scrambled into the seat and fired up the engine. It spat, coughed, and finally came to life.

I suggest you take what good fortune you have and get her back to where you had her.

I’ll try! She slipped it into gear and gently eased out the clutch. The engine sputtered momentarily and then gained strength. Come on, Fergie, you can do it! Please, get me back to the display area.

The tractor slowly left the exhibition arena, MJ careful to keep it running. Some of the crowd applauded Toby’s valiant efforts to repair the tractor on the fly. Toby followed along, happily enjoying the view of MJ’s backside wobbling in the pan seat.

Back in the display area, MJ parked Fergie and shut down the engine. She rested her elbows on the steering wheel and leaned forward, putting her face in her hands. I can’t believe you’d pull something like that.

It’s just a tractor, we’ll get her fixed, Toby said as he approached.

Oh, my God, you heard that?

Yeah. It’s cool. I have words with Mable on occasion.

I bet yours doesn’t give you as much grief as Fergie gives me.

Not often. But I’m also used to working on her. He pulled the hood forward and looked at the engine. How long have you had her?

About five months…Five months too long.

Toby went to work checking the oil, transmission/hydraulic fluid, the belt, and the distributor. Why do you say that?

Because she’s become just another money pit.

Antiques tend to do that.

As if I don’t have enough problems at home.

Where’s home?

I live in Laurel County. She climbed down and hovered around him while he checked engine components. Have a thirty-acre farm there.

Nice county. He didn’t say much for a few minutes as he continued to work. Just you running the farm?

Well, when I bought the place, the previous owner had a land-lease agreement with a cattle farmer. He had fifteen head on the land. She leaned against a back tire. So I wake up every morning to fifteen white-faced black angus staring at me.

Not a bad thing to wake up to.

I figured I better keep the agreement; I don’t think I can manage thirty acres myself. The cattle do a good job of keeping the majority of the fields down.

Yeah, can’t see you doin’ an awful lot of farming with this little girl.

And I also bought a house that seems intent on falling down around me. Inspection or not, I think I got screwed on that deal.

Got a good handyman?

I wish. Try finding someone to do work around here.

Toby nodded. Folks in these parts aren’t too keen on doin’ an honest days’ labor. Time and government benefits have made ’em lazy.

Is that what it is? She folded her arms. Happen to know of anyone that does wanna work?

I got the farm for the most part, but my brother, Nate, does some handiwork.

And where does he live?

With me. He closed the hood and wiped his hands. We got two hundred acres over in Clay County.

Wow! And you run it all?

For the most part. My youngest brother, Dewey, ain’t any help. So me and Nate handle most if it and hire day labor when we need to. He motioned to her. Give it a try now.

MJ climbed up and started the engine. Blue smoke belched from the tailpipe and the engine grumbled. Toby went around to the right side. She couldn’t tell what he was doing, but all of a sudden the engine started running much better. What’d you do?

Adjusted the flow on the carburetor…You might wanna get that looked at.

By whom? I hardly know a soul in the county, let alone the state.

How long have you lived there?

Not quite a year.

Mmm…Maybe I can be of help.

You’d work on her?

He held his hands out, greasy palms up. Well, I have been.

She shut off the engine. I’d like that. Hopping down, she stood in front of him. How about I buy you lunch?

Never had a woman buy me lunch before. Toby wiped his hands.

Never?

Nope.

She grabbed his hand and tugged him along. There’s always a first.

"Uh, hey, you wanna meet Mable? She’s on the way.

Sure. MJ let Toby take the lead as they maneuvered through row upon row of tractors, riding lawnmowers, and farm implements. He stopped at the end of one row. A heavy-framed dark gray tractor was parked, the sun shining off the deep, glossy paint. Meet Mable.

Oh, she’s lovely!

Took me three years to restore her.

Three?

Well, I had to work and save up money…And I had nearly a year where I didn’t work on her at all.

Why was that?

He ran his hand over the hood and gazed into the distance for a few moments, collecting his thoughts. Had some problems…Life took a different path for a while. Toby shook his head slightly. You know, I had to hunt high and low for some of the parts, even digging through junkyards to find a few.

MJ leaned over and admired the large, colorful decal of a bald eagle standing on a globe. I bet you found this on one of the tractor parts websites.

Luckily, yes. One place had all the decals I needed. Still cost me a pretty penny.

But she’s worth it.

He took out a cloth and rubbed a bit of dirt from the rear tire hub. She sure is.

There was decidedly more that was finger lickin’ good as MJ tore into a pulled pork sandwich. She was starved and didn’t realize it. Barbecue sauce dribbled between her fingers and she frantically licked them trying not to get sauce everywhere. Toby watched her with amusement. He held up a pork rib. Perhaps you should’ve gotten something with a handle!

She set down the sandwich, licked her fingers a bit more, and then finally grabbed a napkin. They were sitting on straw bales under the warm afternoon sun. A stage was a few yards away and a bluegrass band plucked out some earthy tunes. MJ looked to her right. There was a tall flagpole with the American flag wafting gently in the breeze. Below it, a lovely restored red and white International tractor. It was a little bigger than Fergie, but not by