by Jane Porter
“Oh, no!” She clutched a hand to her throat. “Mine wasn’t tea. It was potion.”
He wasn’t sure if she meant the magical variety or if she’d mistaken the word for poison, so he simply waited, ever-ready to play along.
“The ninjas must be trying to get me again!” She reached beneath the small table to pull out a long cardboard tube that had once held a roll of paper towels. “Here’s your sword, Daddy! Fight off those ninjas.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” He wasn’t sure the naval terminology was strictly logical for a ninja-infested tea party, but his daughter beamed encouragingly, adopting the pirate theme and running with it.
“If you capture all the ninjas, Teddy can make them walk the plank.”
“We have a plank?” he inquired. “Since when?”
Bailey hopped onto her bed, extending a pillow over the floor. “This is the plank. But now...everything is...” She gurgled dramatically. “Going black.” She fell straight backward, shooting her legs up into the air.
Nick went to her side and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I am so glad you’re my daughter. I bet other little girls’ tea parties aren’t half as exciting.”
“I’m glad you’re my daddy.” She hugged him. “Because you love me so much you even let me stay up late.”
“Nice try, Bay, but you have school tomorrow. Time to brush your teeth.”
She huffed out her breath in disappointment and trudged toward the bathroom. His strong-willed, highly inventive daughter reminded him of Tess Fitzpatrick and her out-of-the-blue proposal yesterday. It was easy to imagine Bailey growing up to be like the pretty dance teacher, outrageous enough to accost people with unsolicited advice.
Outrageous, but good-hearted.
When he’d been a kid, often too embarrassed to speak to anyone, Tess would say hi to him on the playground, asking if he wanted to swing with her or play catch. She’d been happy to babble and monopolize conversation, so he had little reason to worry about his own articulation.
But was he grateful enough for past kindnesses to let her play matchmaker? What exactly was she envisioning—that she’d stand off to the side texting him suggested dialogue like some kind of modern-day Cyrano? He shuddered.
He didn’t want any games or forced awkwardness. And if that meant Farrah never saw him as anything other than Wyatt Calhoun’s younger brother... His lip curled. Actually, the idea of Farrah never seeing him for himself sucked.
By the time Bailey returned to the room, she’d regained the bounce in her step.
“Am I still the best daddy even though I’m making you go to bed?” Nick teased.
She nodded, yawning. “I have the best daddy. But Cousin Amber has the best mommy. I want a mommy, too.”
“You have a mother, Bay. And she loves you very much.” The words were like sawdust in his mouth. Would it be so difficult for Marla to call her daughter once in a while? Maybe send a freaking card? “She just doesn’t live here.”
The gray eyes Bailey had inherited from him took on a steely determination. “Suzie in my class has two moms. Her old mom moved away, but then her dad got married. Suzie got to carry flowers in the wedding and wear a dress like a princess. Now she has a new mom who lives at her house. Why don’t you do that?”
So many reasons, kid. “It’s getting late.” He gave a melodramatically exaggerated yawn that made her giggle. “How about we discuss this in the morning?”
Nick made sure her night-light was turned on, said bedtime prayer with her, then wandered back to the kitchen. Bailey had come home from dance class Friday with the February newsletter, and he’d stuck it to the refrigerator with a magnet. As always, Tess had included a note at the bottom with her cell number, urging parents to phone her if they ever had any questions or concerns. He scowled at the digits printed on the paper. Was he really considering calling her?
What about the philosophy of relationships developing naturally? The idea that he’d meet a woman someday and that events would unfold artlessly sounded good. But that strategy had gotten him nowhere in the past four years. He pulled the newsletter off the fridge and sighed.
Time to consider a new strategy.
Chapter Four
Standing in the middle of his kitchen, Nick dialed quickly, knowing that if he hesitated, he’d talk himself out of this.
“Hello?” Tess caught him off guard by answering midway through the first ring. A person practically had to be psychic to answer the phone that fast.
“Oh. Hi. This is Nick.” Not sure how to proceed, he added, “Calhoun.”
She chuckled softly. “I knew which Nick.”
“Well, it is a pretty common name.”
“True. But you’re the only Nick I was waiting to hear from.”
“You were really that confident I’d call?” Because he was still surprised by his own actions.
“I have the innate ability to wear people down. But this is actually sooner than I anticipated. I thought it would require further stalking.”
Her completely unrepentant tone tugged a half grin from him. However unorthodox Tess might be, she was likable.
“So expecting my call wasn’t why you pounced on the phone, then?”
“No, that was a maid-of-honor thing,” Tess said. “Lorelei and I have been playing phone tag all night. I’d barely hung up from leaving her a voice mail when it rang again. I assumed it was her. I’m glad it’s you.”
“That makes one of us,” he grumbled. Aware of how ungrateful he sounded, he added, “It’s embarrassing to ask for help in this area.”
“You didn’t ask, I offered.”
“Even worse.” He reached into the fridge and pulled out a beer. But instead of opening the can, he held it to his temple. He’d been fighting a headache since his daughter’s announcement that Suzie had a new mommy. “That means it was obvious that I needed help. I must be missing some Calhoun gene. My brothers have never asked anyone for dating advice.”
“Last I checked, neither of your brothers is in a happy, stable relationship, either.”
Huh. He hadn’t really thought of it that way, but she was right. Kevin drifted aimlessly from one woman to the next while Wyatt seemed stuck in a destructive on-again, off-again cycle with a professional barrel racer.
“What changed your mind?” Tess prompted.
“My kid. I was hoping, since we’re surrounded by family, including my mom, who bakes birthday cakes and braids hair for ballet recitals, that Bailey didn’t feel like there was a big mother-shaped hole in her life. But I was kidding myself. She wants me to remarry. There was talk of being a flower girl and wearing a fancy dress.” Thanks a lot, Suzie, you troublemaker.
“Not that I would propose to anyone on the whim of a six-year-old,” he added wryly. “But maybe I should be more open to possibilities.”
“Possibilities like Farrah Landon?” she said knowingly.
He laughed. “That’s aiming pretty high. I decided at fourteen she was my dream girl—and haven’t managed to speak to her coherently since.” He was surprised to have admitted that. But what could he possibly say to Tess to make the situation any more awkward than it already was? Which, in a way, was liberating.
“Ironic that Bay wants a mom,” he said. “The cliché is every girl wants a pony—”
“Not every little girl!”
“—and I could give her a herd of ponies. A mom, on the other hand...” He belatedly registe
red her adamant tone. “You don’t like horses?”
“I like them just fine. From a distance.”
“I didn’t think anything intimidated the Brash and Fearless Tess Fitzpatrick.”
“It’s not like I’m phobic or anything,” she said, trying too hard to sound casual about it. “I just don’t have much practice on horseback.”
“How ’bout I make you a deal? You step outside your comfort zone and go riding with me, and I’ll step outside mine and accept your help when it comes to the ladies. It’ll be character-building for both of us.”
A long moment passed before she grudgingly agreed. “Fine. But only because you really need my help.”
* * *
TESS WAS ABOUT TO ACCEPT Tim’s offer to walk her to the barn when Kevin, the middle Calhoun brother, stepped out of the trailer that served as a small administrative office.
“I’ll take her.” Kevin’s mouth curved into the automatic grin he gave all women, and he treated her to a lingering once-over that made her skin itch. She was tempted to kick him in the shin with one of her not-quite-broken-in boots. “It’ll give Contessa and me a chance to catch up on old times.”
Instead of glaring at the use of her hated full name, Tess smiled sweetly. “Which old times? The month when you tried unsuccessfully to get my sister to go out with you or when you never called my cousin again after three dates? She had some really interesting things to say about you.”
Kevin’s self-assured expression faltered. “You know what? I forgot I promised to help Dad this afternoon. I guess Tim should show you the way after all.”
“Well, shoot.” Tess’s mock disappointment earned a stifled guffaw from Tim.
“So what brings you here in the middle of a Tuesday?” the ranch hand asked as they started down a smooth dirt path. “I know Nick’s expecting you, but he was...sort of weird about it.”
“Ha! Nick’s the most normal of the bunch. That one is weird.” Tess jerked a thumb over her shoulder, back where they’d left Kevin. It eluded her how anyone could think the smarmy man was more attractive than Nick. “Does he really expect women to fall at his feet? Any female who’s lived around here more than a month knows what an unreliable hound he is. The only ones who think his full-court press is genuine are the tourists.” Poor things. Maybe Tess should talk to the city council about posting warnings.
Tim peered at her. “Miss Fitzpatrick, did you just duck my question?”
“About why I’m here? Nick’s doing me a favor. I’m uncomfortable around horses, and he offered to help.” More like blackmailed, but she could respect that.
“Ah. Well, here we are.”
In the shade of the barn, the crispness of the air became downright frosty. Nick emerged from the barn into the sunshine, smiling his welcome.
“Good to see you, Tess. Glad you didn’t change your mind.”
“I considered it, but I think it’s so important for people to leave their comfort zones and take some risks. Don’t you?”
He smirked at her. “Maybe I should have saddled a more spirited ride for you than Ambling Aimee.”
“Oh, I’m sure Aimee will be just fine.” She prided herself on not sounding shaky as she thanked Tim and bade him goodbye.
He tipped his weathered straw hat. “Good luck, ma’am.”
Once she and Nick were alone, she scolded him for the gleam in his silvery eyes. “It’s not chivalrous to look delighted by my terror.”
“Oh, please,” he retorted skeptically. “I know you’re apprehensive, but ‘terror’? How scared of horses can you be? You were born and raised in Texas.”
“Believe it or not, being an accomplished equestrienne isn’t technically a requirement to live here.”
“But...hell, Bailey’s been riding since she was practically a toddler.”
“I don’t suppose she has a pony I could borrow?” On second thought, Tess might break it. When she’d pulled on her old pair of jeans that morning, she’d been dismayed they fit so snugly.
Nick led her inside the barn. The scents of leather and hay would have been pleasant if they weren’t also accompanied by the earthier—and more foreboding—smell of horses. Whinnies and snorts came from the shadowed recesses of the stalls. “Did something happen to make you scared of horses?” he asked sympathetically. “Bad fall? One of them kick you?”
She grimaced. “No, but thanks for highlighting those possibilities. The worst summer of my adolescence was spent at a camp I didn’t want to attend in the first place. The counselors were determined to help me love horses, but each stab at riding went worse than the last.”
At the time, it had felt as though all the other campers were reveling in her humiliation. “The final straw was a mean-spirited devil who deemed me unworthy as soon as I got in the saddle. He tried for fifteen minutes to unseat me. After a dead run at a low branch, I decided decapitation wasn’t worth the activity points I could earn for my cabin. That was my last time on horseback.”
Nick clucked his tongue. “Haven’t you heard the saying about getting back in the saddle? You have to try again.”
“Said the pot to the kettle. It’s been what, four years since your divorce?” She softened her observation with a cajoling smile. “Womankind needs you. There has to be an alternative to guys like your obnoxious brother. He’s lucky I didn’t kick him.”
His eyes narrowed. “Tell me Kevin did not hit on you.”
“Worse, he called me Contessa. Everyone knows I hate my full name.”
“You shouldn’t. It’s unique, which certainly fits you. And isn’t contessa nobility or royalty somewhere? That fits, too. You have subjects who love you—well, students—and an innate talent for telling people what to do.”
“I’d be annoyed that you just called me bossy except it’s totally true.”
“Enough stalling.” He tugged lightly on her hand. “C’mon, Contessa. It’s my turn to give the orders now.”
* * *
AFTER LAUGHING AT TESS’S refusal to feed the horse a carrot—the pale gold beast might be gentle natured, but she had huge teeth—Nick helped her onto the mare and had her practice in the ring they used for children’s birthday parties. Unlike the monster she’d previously ridden, the one who’d tried to behead her, Ambling Aimee accepted Tess with an air of melancholy resignation. Not unlike my mother, actually.
Nick excused himself to saddle his own horse so they could ride out in the pasture. Tess had reminded him that this had to be a brief ride—she had a dance class to teach later. He returned quickly, leading a dark red horse whose black saddle matched its mane and tail.
“This is North Star. She’s often the lead horse on our trail rides. If you nodded off and slept for the next twenty minutes, Aimee would still follow along with no problem. You don’t have to worry about her going rogue.” He opened the gate to the ring, clucking his tongue at Aimee. “Ready to really stretch your legs, girl?”
Tess made a concerted effort not to tighten her grip on the reins. Acres and acres of pastureland spread out beneath the blue sky. Lots of space for something to go wrong.
Nick met her gaze. “You’re doing great.”
“So are you. You say your brothers are the naturals when it comes to talking to women, but you’ve been charming and funny and patient.” She seized the chance to think about something other than how far away the ground looked. “Show Farrah this side of you, and she’ll be putty in your hands.”
He flushed. “Trying to start a
conversation with her is a lot different than this.”
Right. Because Tess was more the nonintimidating buddy type than the leggy femme fatale.
She had a sudden flash to her freshman year in high school, to a crush on an older member of the debate team. A crush she’d foolishly believed to be mutual. It hadn’t been until he’d finally worked up the nerve to ask her sister to prom that Tess realized why he’d been finding so many excuses to spend time at the Fitzpatrick house.
After Regina shot him down, he and Tess had gone together, as friends. “This will probably be more fun anyway,” he’d said as they left her house on prom night. “You’re not someone a guy has to worry about impressing.” Prom made many young ladies in their glamorous dresses feel like princesses for the evening—Cinderella at the ball. For Tess, it had been like a jarring realization that she was actually the short, squat stepsister. She flinched at the memory, apparently jerking on the reins because Aimee came to an obedient, if unexpected, halt.
“Everything okay?” Nick asked.
“Sure. We’re, uh, just waiting for you.”
He pulled himself up into the saddle with such easy grace that Tess stared. She’d worked for countless hours to cultivate poise on stage; Nick’s rugged elegance was simply who he was.
“My family’s owned this ranch my entire life,” Nick said as their horses fell in step. “We get tourists, especially in the spring and summer, and I’m used to dealing with them. If I’m saddling a horse for someone, I know how to make small talk. When I’m on the trail, I can discuss the plants in bloom or facts about livestock. None of that’s the same as asking a woman out.”
A moment later, he added, “It’s not even the asking I mind, really.”
“Is it fear they’ll say no?” Seeing his strong profile beneath the brim of his hat, the way he effortlessly commanded a thousand-pound animal, she couldn’t imagine what idiot woman would refuse him.
