Rugged Hearts

by Amanda McIntyre

Aimee replaced the phone in the cradle and glanced at Wyatt. Her heart stopped when she saw the corner of his lip curl slightly. “What?” she prodded indignantly. She picked up her cup and waited for his response. His eyes glittered in the illumination of the computer screen.

  “It’s probably a good thing the kids are here, right?”

  Whoa. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over her. Did he just say what I think he said? She pressed her fingertips on the edge of the desk to steady her wonky equilibrium and gripped her cup with the other hand. Hadn’t he been perfectly honest when he’d told her he wasn’t interested in anything permanent, but if she was interested in having a little fun to call him? Her legs wobbled a little and she locked them in place. With a deep breath, she rekindled her resolve not to give in to her vulnerable state. At least until they got through this storm, she’d have to set her naughty ideas of closet sex aside. “I don’t know what you mean,” she lied. Her cheeks warmed and she averted her eyes in a hurry to change the subject. “If you have some blankets and sheets, I can make us—I mean the kids and I—pallets on the floor out here in the living room.”

  He cleared his throat and stood. The chair offered a plaintive creak in his wake.

  “I’ve got a lot of blankets, but there are plenty of bedrooms, if they don’t mind doubling up in some of them.”

  Aimee kept her focus on the children. There was no way on earth she could discuss bedrooms with him without turning five shades of crimson. “You’ve already been most generous, Wyatt. I don’t want to be any more of an imposition. He walked to her side, the scent of smoke and cedar from tending the fire all day for their comfort infused in the soft flannel fabric of his shirt.

  “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” He glanced at the children, shrugged his shoulders, and looked back at her, his eyes even darker in the dim light. “We’ll have to make the best of our situation, right?”

  Her heart raced with him standing so near. “Right.” She pushed the words quietly from her lips. “I’ll go gather the children up for bathroom time.” She split up the boys and girls and monitored their nighttime routine, modified by the use of washcloths instead of a toothbrush. Wyatt appeared at the bathroom door and handed her a pile of T-shirts, one for each child to use as a nightshirt.

  His fingers grazed her hand as she accepted them. “I’ll find something for you as soon as I clean up the kitchen.” He walked down the hall and flipped the lights on in two of the bedrooms.

  Aimee was grateful for a bit of distance between them. She focused her thoughts on organizing clothing and shoes as the children changed into the makeshift nightshirts. Both rooms had a king bed, allowing the four boys to sleep in one room and the five girls to sleep in the other. The room across the hall was dark and she assumed it was Wyatt’s. She didn’t allow her thoughts to go beyond that. When at last every child was tucked in, she flipped off the bedroom lights.

  One of the girls spoke up. “Ms. Worth? What happens if we don’t get home for Christmas? How will Santa know we’re here?”

  She’d anticipated that question all afternoon as soon as she’d realized they might be stuck over Christmas Eve. “Santa will figure something out. I’m sure he will leave wonderful things at each of your homes, and when you get back, they will be waiting.”

  “Ms. Worth, do you think Santa will visit Mr. Kinnison?”

  She smiled. Perhaps Wyatt Kinnison has already received a special gift but hasn’t realized it quite yet. “I don’t know. I guess there are some things we’ll just have to wait and see about. Now go to sleep and perhaps the snow will let up enough for the plows to get through the pass tomorrow.”

  “I don’t want to leave, Ms. Worth,” another voice piped up in the dark. “I like Sadie.”

  “Mr. Kinnison has been very gracious to put us up. Now let’s be good guests and go to sleep.” Aimee backed out into the hallway, and as she pulled the door shut, bumped into a warm body. She whirled to face him.

  “I thought maybe you’d gotten lost,” he whispered.

  Her body erupted in an electrifying rush. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”

  “We’re not exactly strangers, now are we?” He capped his response with a grin.

  “No, I guess we’re not.” She glanced down at her feet. She focused on something she could handle, his hospitality. “Thank you again. You’ve been wonderful about all this.”

  His gaze dropped to her mouth and bounced back to her eyes. “Look, Aimee, I’m no saint, so could you please stop treating me like one?”

  God, she really wanted him to explain that one, but she didn’t dare ask. Her first responsibility was to her students, but she couldn’t deny the giddy thought she’d found herself stranded with him.

  “You hungry?” he asked.

  Glad for the change in topic, Aimee nodded. “I am a little.”

  “Come on, then.” He steered her toward the kitchen. “I’ve made us some sandwiches. I thought you might feel the need for something substantial.”

  She smiled and was glad he couldn’t see her face. He had no idea how true his words were and how little they had to do with food. The fireplace crackled softly as they walked to the kitchen. The moment felt so normal it was surreal. Based on the fantasies rolling around in her head, it was going to be a long night.

  Chapter Ten

  Wyatt had managed to overhear the conversation Aimee had with her friend, and though she’d brushed it aside, he had a harder time doing so. Truth was, a few hours ago he was happy to brush aside the silly way his body reacted whenever he thought of her. But the moment that truck began to slide away from him, something changed, and he feared not having the chance to see this curious attraction to some kind of conclusion. She’d turned his life upside down since the night she’d showed up on his porch. While he wanted to believe he wasn’t interested in anything long-term, the fact was she’d gotten under his skin, evidenced with how pleased he was when she gushed over his cooking skills.

  “Oh my Lord, this is fantastic. Where did you learn to cook?” Aimee closed her eyes as a look of pure euphoria washed over her expression. She might as well have been dancing on a pole for what it did to him. He forced down the bite stuck in his throat and attempted to put his wayward thoughts in check. After all, he had a house filled to the rafters with children and it probably went against some proper school etiquette to be fantasizing about their teacher.

  “It’s only ham and cheese on rye, Aimee. Not exactly a culinary challenge.”

  She popped the last portion in her mouth and sighed with far too much intimacy for a mere sandwich. His gaze was glued to her mouth as she took a sip of her hot chamomile tea. The dill pickle spear went next, causing him to shift a little in his chair. Another sigh. Gawd have mercy. Barely able to swallow at that point, he tossed the uneaten half of his sandwich on his plate and desperately sought a way to take his mind off sex. “How’s your head feeling?”

  “Better. There’s a little pain, but nothing like it was before.” Her temple, however, was beginning to show evidence of swelling. “Are you going to eat that?” She eyed his plate.

  Surprised by her voracious appetite, he handed her his sandwich. “Knock yourself out.”

  “You’re sure?”

  He spread his hands and shrugged. “I’m good. Glad to see you’re hungry. That’s a good sign.”

  She smiled sheepishly and plucked the food from his plate. “Hopefully this doesn’t color your perception of me. I don’t always eat like this. I just can’t remember when a ham and cheese tasted this good.”

  He nodded and found her candid behavior refreshing. She wasn’t like some women, pretending to be a certain way to impress people. He liked her honesty. She spoke her mind and yeah, maybe she was a bit bossy, but after an afternoon spent with her students, he could see why.

  “Wyatt?”

  He blinked, startled from his thoughts. “Yeah?”

  “You looked like you were somewhere else.” She
leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms over her head. “Thank you for the delicious snack. It really hit the spot.”

  Wyatt stared blatantly at her, envisioning her beneath him, stretching as luxuriously after a bout of lovemaking. Shit. “You’re welcome. You know, I suspect those kids will be up early.” His appetite for food gone, he stood and held out his hand to take her plate. “You finished?” His tone was brusque. He had to be. If he let go an inch of his reserve, he’d cave in to his base desires.

  “Oh sure, here. I’m going to sleep like a baby.” She offered up her dish. “Can I help you with anything?” She appeared next to him at the kitchen sink and opened the dishwasher.

  “I’m fine. Really, I’ve got this.” He debated whether to reach in front of her or go from behind. He chose the latter, pinning her between him and the sink, torturing himself with the soft scent of her perfume mingled with the warmth of her skin. “Listen, you can have my room. I’ll take the couch.” He tossed her a look as he straightened and stepped back to give her passage.

  “I wouldn’t dream of kicking you out of your bed.”

  He met her blue-eyed gaze and was about to suggest a simple alternative when his brain stepped in and smacked him. He busied himself with the dishes. “It wouldn’t feel right to have you on the couch.” That was a lie. Right now, he thought anywhere, including his bed, would be a great place to have her. Was it him or did she, too, feel the heat sizzling between them? He cleared his throat. “It’s not a problem, really. I’ll be fine on the sofa. You need a good night’s rest. Why don’t you go on to bed. I need to finish here and then go check on the horses before I turn in.”

  She stopped at the door and looked back. “Will you be okay out there alone?”

  He hadn’t told her about the calf, but she remembered seeing the mountain lion. Just the same, he’d spent all of his life out here. Being cautious was part of the territory.

  “I’ll be careful. I always take my rifle. However, since you mentioned seeing a mountain lion, you need to know that I think I lost a calf to one the other day. I can’t say it was the same, but generally they don’t come venturing too far down where there are people unless they’re looking for food. Just to be sure, I’d advise not letting the kids go out to play until we’ve located it.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Please be careful.”

  “I’ll manage fine, thanks.” He wiped his hands on a towel and shut the dishwasher. “I’ve lived all my life out here, Aimee. I’m a big boy.”

  She stared at him for the span of a heartbeat, then nodded. “Okay. Good night, then.” She turned to leave and he realized that his room wasn’t exactly prepared for a guest.

  “Aimee, um, hold up a sec. I need to check my room and pick up a few things. Just…just have a seat. I’ll be quick.” He didn’t wait to hear her protests about not going to any trouble on her account. He hurried down the hall, flipped on the light, and made a quick scan of the room that hadn’t seen a woman in quite some time. Snatching the comforter and sheets together, he tossed them into place and smoothed out as many wrinkles as possible. He scooped up a pair of dirty jeans, a towel, and a pair of boxer briefs into his arms and straightened to meet Aimee’s grin.

  “You don’t have to go to any trouble for me, Wyatt. I’m grateful you’ve offered me your bed.”

  Damn. He stared at her, clutching the dirty laundry to his chest, wishing she didn’t seem to have such a high opinion of his stellar character. Because a gentleman wouldn’t be considering the thoughts he was having about her at the moment. “There are towels in the bathroom if you feel like you need to wash your hair.” He didn’t offer to assist, but it didn’t mean he hadn’t thought of it.

  “I’d feel decadent showering when the kids didn’t bathe.” She pushed off her shoes and scooted them to the side of the bed.

  “Aimee, the kids don’t have blood caked in their hair.” He reached up, then and barely touched the bandage. It took every bone in his body to drop his hand and head toward the door.

  “Wyatt?” The husky gentleness of her voice caused his body to tighten.

  “You mentioned something about a nightshirt?”

  “Oh, yeah, right.” He hastily opened a drawer and fished out one of his softer flannel shirts, valiantly avoiding the image of her flesh pressed against it. “Will this do?” He handed it to her.

  “This is wonderful. Thanks.” She clutched it to her breast.

  He had to get out of there before he came unglued. One foot made it to the hall before he heard her call his name. The sound touched him like a warm summer breeze. He closed his eyes and turned around to face her. She smiled, lifted up on her toes, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I know you aren’t a saint, Wyatt, but you are a good man. And you don’t meet a good man every day.”

  He held her gaze inches from his face and swallowed hard. With a valiant effort, he backed into the hallway.

  “Good night,” she stated and gently closed the door.

  Wyatt stood and stared at the block of wood between them, closed his eyes, and forced his feet to the front hall, where he put on his coat and boots. He needed a good blast of cold air.

  ***

  Aimee lay awake, deprived of sleep by the howling of the wind outside and the masculine scent of the pillow on which she lay. Every time she closed her eyes and tried to snuggle deep under the covers, her nose would breathe in Wyatt’s earthy scent. She’d even tried to cuddle with the extra pillow, but it only made matters worse. At some point after she’d turned out the lights, she heard the front door open and close. Somehow, the sound of his boots across the front porch made her feel safe, watched over. It was dangerous, she pondered, to muse over him like some lovesick schoolgirl, but the way he’d stepped up and handled everything had endeared him to her in a way she couldn’t easily dismiss. He exuded responsibility and it seemed to come so naturally to him. It didn’t take long for her to recognize that. But his sense of duty made even greater sense after she’d heard about his past. He was a man who trusted few and somehow he’d learned to compartmentalize his emotions so they wouldn’t get in the way of what needed to be done. She thought it through and reasoned that Sally might very well be right. Any attempt to get close to him could result in heartbreak. On the other hand, how could she ignore the feelings she had whenever she thought of him, and worse, how could she ignore the fantasies that sprang up when she was near him. She wanted to believe there was more to Wyatt than just wanting to have a good time. She was certain that he wanted love and security, like everyone else. He just hadn’t been able to find someone he could trust.

  The sound of the door jarred Aimee from her thoughts, and for a moment she imagined what it would be like to have him come in from his chores and ask if she was asleep. She’d say no and watch him undress in the murky shadows, then she’d feel the mattress give as he climbed beneath the covers next to her. He’d nuzzle her ear and whisper suggestions of the delightful things he wanted to do to her. His hands would be chilly but when he touched her, it wouldn’t matter. She needed his touch, lived for it, ached for it.

  Aimee pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, tortured by the fantasy of her own making. More specifically, one Wyatt knew nothing about. Frustrated, she swung her feet out of bed, pulled on her ragg wool socks, and groped her way to the door. She found a robe hanging on the back of it and tiptoed quietly down the hallway, relieved to see that the house appeared quiet. She entered the living room, careful not to make too much noise if Wyatt was already asleep, but as she drew closer to the couch, she realized he wasn’t there. The embers still aglow in the fireplace cast a warm light over the empty room. It was then she noticed the light from the kitchen. She drew the sash tighter on the robe and cautiously peeked around the kitchen door. Her heart came to a standstill. Seated in the middle of the stone tile floor was Wyatt, clad only in his jeans. On the floor, scattered around him, was an array of toys, everything from farm animals to tractors and sturdy metal 4x4 trucks, many
with the paint and decals worn off the sides. Aimee watched from the shadows for a moment, unsure whether to disturb him.

  “You couldn’t sleep either?” He spoke but didn’t look up as he returned the toys to the box.

  She summoned her courage and stepped into the kitchen. “I hope it’s not the couch giving you problems. I found it quite comfortable. I’m happy to trade back.” She stuffed her hands in the robe pockets and it reminded her of Betty’s account of his finding his mother’s good-bye letter in his robe. She pulled her hands out and crossed to the refrigerator. “I thought maybe a glass of milk might help.”

  He looked up, scrambled to his feet, and set the box on the table. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard. “Have a seat. I’ll get it.” He glanced at her as he poured. “How’s the head?”

  It was such an ordinary moment, two friends sharing a glass of milk in the middle of the night because they couldn’t sleep, but in light of her recent thoughts, it placed things on a much grander scale. She looked at him in a different light, noticing how warm and inviting his brown eyes were. What she wouldn’t give to have kids with eyes like that. Then again, that would mean…. Aimee rested her chin in her hand and smiled at her private thoughts. “It’s better, I think.”

  “So that’s not what’s keeping you awake?” he asked and placed the glass in front of her.

  She doubted it was wise to explain he was the reason she couldn’t fall asleep. “It must have been the nap I had this afternoon. I’m not used to getting a lot of sleep.”

  “Insomnia?” He picked up the toys and sat down across from her.

  “Newlyweds next door.”

  He glanced at her with a puzzled frown and then grinned as he realized her dilemma.

  “I see.” He slowly shook his head. Picking up the box, he set the toys on the table. “I found this stuff out in the barn.” He plucked a horse statue from the box and held it up to inspect it.

  Aimee tried to keep her focus on the toy and not on his incredible, muscled chest.