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drive and lumbered his old rattletrap down the long path to their front door. No, the most intense thought, overshadowing all else, was the fact he was about to see her again. His blood warmed just thinking about it.
    Anxious for even a glimpse, he strained in his seat, keeping an eye on the front door as he parked. It wasn’t as if he expected her to burst from the house and charge toward him; she didn’t even know he was coming. Though he had to admit it’d be a nice sight if she did do that.
    Scrubbing his suddenly damp palms on the top of his thighs, he blew out a breath and pushed open his door. He was so intent about his mission to reach the front porch; he didn’t even notice others outside until he heard a shout.
    “Hey! Hold it steady.”
    Cooper glanced over to spot the two Rawlings sons grappling with a fifty-five-gallon oil drum and trying to load it into the back of a tailgate.
    “I’m trying,” Caine Rawlings muttered, his face going from bright red to purple as he heaved. Being only thirteen, he couldn’t pull as much weight as twenty-year-old Grady, and the entire barrel tilted his way, splaying a nasty glop of black liquid over the side.
    Changing directions, Coop jogged toward the two and immediately leant his weight to Caine’s end, helping the little guy lift his load. When Caine looked over his shoulder and saw Cooper, his shoulders sagged. He immediately stepped back, letting Coop take on his half of the work.
    Not prepared for the added weight, Coop grunted and the cask slanted even further his way, threatening to tip over completely. Slimy oil spilled over the side and sprayed his temple and shoulder, running down his front and back and soaking his button-up western shirt.
    “Caine!” Grady scolded, struggling to help straighten the drum.
    “What? Coop’s like three times bigger than I am. I figured he could handle it.”
    “I got it,” Coop muttered, closing one eye so oil wouldn’t drip in it. “I just didn’t think you’d let go so fast.” Or at all .
    “Oh,” Caine said, realizing his mistake. He cringed. “My bad.”
    Both Cooper and Grady ignored him as they lifted the barrel in unison and perched it on the edge of the tailgate.
    “Caine,” Grady snapped again. “Since you’re just standing around doing nothing, hop up there and drag it back deeper into the bed of the truck, will you.”
    “Sure thing.” Eager to comply, Caine scrambled onto the tailgate. But in his haste, he jostled the container and more oil splashed out, drenching both Cooper and Grady.
    Coop gritted his teeth and bit his tongue, but Grady cursed a blue streak. Finally, Caine grasped the container and managed to tug it onto a stable surface. Cooper shook oil off his arm before he wiped at his face with the clean side of his sleeve.
    Great. Jo Ellen was going to take one look at him and laugh in his face.
    “Christ, Coop, I’m sorry.” Grady handed him a rag and managed to look genuinely grateful as he added, “But I appreciate the help. We needed it.”
    “No problem.” Though actually it was a problem. He’d taken special care to look nice for Jo Ellen, and now all she was going to see was an oil-drenched farm boy. He had four times as much oil on him as Grady did.
    To prolong his bad luck, the front door of the house came open. Forgetting about the fact he had grease sopping down his hair, face, and clothes, he quit mopping at his eyes, and even faltered in his breathing, when she emerged.
    The sun glinted against her long, dark hair as she started their way, making a physical ache bloom in his chest. He began to smile before he realized she didn’t move as gracefully as Jo Ellen did.
    “Hey, Coop,” she called, lifting her hand and waving big and sloppy as she skipped closer.
    Disappointment ran thick through his veins. Not Jo Ellen.
    “Hey, Em,” he greeted despondently, turning away to finish wiping the mess off his face.
    “Whoa. What happened to you guys?” She glanced between