by Cindi Madsen
Still hacking, she sprinted into the kitchen and opened cupboards until she found a pitcher. She stuck it under the faucet and filled it to the top, chanting for the stream of water to hurry it up already.
Once the pitcher was brimming, she rushed back into the living room as fast as she could without spilling. At least the flames were staying inside the fireplace—if only the same could be said for the smoke.
Dousing the wood with the water effectively put out the fire, but black-and-gray clouds continued to inundate the room.
Her cell phone caught her eye. She lifted it, debating for a moment over who to call.
While women occasionally liked to joke about reasons to call in firefighters, there was nothing on fire. In this little town, the fire department was run by volunteers, so the men often had other jobs as well. “Shoot, shoot, shoot. What do I do?”
She didn’t have a ton of numbers, but since Wyatt had insisted she text him to let him know she’d arrived safely home, she had his. Bonus, he lived close.
Even better, he’d know what to do, even if he gave her a look like she should be able to take care of it herself.
Finally, she tapped the number, nearly hanging up twice as it rang and rang. Just when she figured she’d have to leave a message, Wyatt’s deep voice carried over the line. “Jemma?”
“Um, I have a…situation.” She scooped up her bunny and tucked him in close as she walked over and threw open the window, despite the frigid temperature.
“Are you stuck? Where are you at? I’ll get my truck and—”
“I started a fire in my fireplace, just like you showed me…”
“Oh. Good job.” Clearly he was wondering why she was calling to tell him, as if she were one of her students at show and tell and hoping for a gold star.
“But then my living room started filling with smoke, and I put out the fire, but it’s still smoking and—” A sputtered cough burst out of her, making it impossible to finish her sentence.
She didn’t have to, though, because Wyatt said, “I’ll be right there.”
Wyatt cut the engine and launched himself out of the truck before it’d fully rolled to a stop.
The door to the cottage was open, a thick cloud of smoke spilling out of it, and fear rose and squeezed the air out of his lungs.
Jemma had said she’d put out the fire, but that was a lot of smoke.
His boots pounded out a loud rhythm as he rushed up the porch steps and stormed inside. “Jemma?”
She had a blanket up over her nose, and relief washed through him. Because she was safe. That was all. “I promise I did it just like you said, but then I went to make a cup of tea— Oh, I should clean that up.”
She squatted in front of a broken mug and began picking up the pieces.
He glanced at the fireplace and batted the hazy air. With the window and door open, it was clearing some, but his eyes and nose still stung, and the urge to cough clutched at his throat.
Covering his nose with his shirt, he walked over to the fireplace and leaned over it, then craned his neck to peer up the chimney. He patted his pocket, pulled out his phone, and turned on the flashlight. Back in the day he used to have to carry a flashlight around, and he had to admit the phone’s feature had come in handy more than once.
It also meant he’d dropped his phone in a pile of manure once, and a cow had stomped on it and broken the screen before he could retrieve it. Life-proof cases weren’t quite enough for his lifestyle.
He quickly backed out, wheezing and working on exhaling instead of inhaling. He tugged his shirt down as he spun toward Jemma. “It’s clogged. I bet it hasn’t been cleaned out in years.”
“And that’s something you’re supposed to do? Clean it out? Or are there… Don’t make fun of me, but are chimney sweeps still a thing? Should I call the dude from Mary Poppins?”
The fact that she was making a joke made him smile. It also confirmed she was okay. “If you’ve got the dude from Mary Poppins’s phone number, feel free to give him a ring, but if that doesn’t work out, Bob’s Chimney service is the next town over and they do a good job. Or…”
He was forever behind, and he’d told himself a hundred times to be neighborly without getting in too deep, but he couldn’t help but offer. “I’ve done mine. I can gather the supplies and do what I can to clean it.”
“Oh, I don’t mind paying someone. Or I could pay you if you…well, ‘want to do it’ is probably the wrong way to phrase it.” She rubbed her hands on her arms. Any second her teeth would start chattering.
“I don’t mind. But it’s cold and late, and I don’t want to leave Bailey Rae at home by herself for too long.” The drive over took about a minute, and walking only four or five. Plus, she’d call if she needed him, but still.
“Of course. Go. I shouldn’t have called. I just sort of freaked out and I had your number and… I’m your problem neighbor, aren’t I?” Her shoulders sagged, and he fought the urge to wrap his hands around her arms and take over rubbing warmth into them.
“Not at all. You just keep things interesting.”
She cracked a smile. Then a shiver racked her body.
“Come on,” he said, lightly touching her shoulder, and even that was enough to awaken every cell in his body. “We’ll go to my place and get you warmed up while the house airs out.”
“Oh, I don’t want to intrud—”
“I insist.”
She nodded, her teeth fully chattering now, and grabbed her coat. Her gaze drifted toward the kitchen. “I put Señor Fluffypants in his cage by the open back door, but I still worry about him breathing in all that smoke.”
It took Wyatt a second, but then he recalled her comment about how Señor Fluffypants didn’t mind sharing his carrots with Casper. Bailey had also mentioned the bunny, and how the class took turns feeding him while they were at school. “You can grab him. What’s one more animal?”
The concern in her features faded, and she rushed into the kitchen and returned a moment later, holding the cage and muttering soothing words to her black-and-white bunny. She was quite the sight, pink pajama pants with hearts on them, ash-flecked hair pulled up in a bun, a smudge of gray on her cheek.
A mushy sensation tumbled through him, taking out one organ after another. Problem neighbor, indeed.
Wyatt opened the passenger door to his truck and helped Jemma inside. Once he was settled behind the wheel, he cranked the heater—although it wasn’t very warm yet—and within a couple of minutes, they were pulling up to his front porch.
Since Jemma was just stubborn enough to try to juggle the bunny carrier and climb out of the tall truck, he grabbed the carrier’s handle so she wouldn’t end up face-planting in a snowbank on her way down, and then they hurried inside to get warm.
Bailey Rae gave a happy squeal over their guests as he explained the situation. “You picked a good night to come over. Tonight’s movie-and-s’mores night. Dad said I can pick the movie, but I can’t decide.”
His daughter held up two DVDs of girly movies he’d seen way too many times and, big surprise, Jemma was familiar and launched into the pros and cons of both.
After settling on one and popping it into the DVD player, Bailey Rae asked if she could hold Señor Fluffypants. She pulled the bunny into her arms and sat between him and Jemma on the couch, a giant grin on her face.
He smiled over her head at Jemma, who immediately returned the gesture.
Most of his weeks were blurs, one day bleeding into another, and regardless of the fact that he’d never call himself caught up, Saturday nights were the exception. They were the nights he reserved for watching a movie with his daughter, and for a little while, nothing else existed.
The same sense of calm he normally experienced on movie nights flowed through him, but every time Jemma and Bailey Rae shared a giggle or talked about how cute an out
fit or a hairdo was, the comfort and contentment multiplied.
“Don’t you think, Daddy?” Bailey Rae asked after she’d remarked that one of the pairs of shoes looked like something Jemma would wear.
He nodded, as if he paid attention to those things—in Jemma’s case, though, he paid more attention than he should.
Jemma spun and put her elbow on the back of the couch. “You should see this little shop in downtown Denver. It’s one of my favorite places in the world because they have purses and shoes in every color you could imagine.”
Bailey Rae’s eyes widened. “I can imagine lots of colors.”
“Do they have any sensible footwear?” Wyatt asked.
Jemma defiantly lifted her nose in the air. “Life’s too short for sensible footwear.”
He’d noticed that while she was shorter without her heels, she still came up to his chin. He also couldn’t help noticing how fondly Jemma talked about the big city, making it obvious she missed it.
During the last thirty or so minutes of the movie, the ladies’ eyes were glued to the screen, both of them leaning forward like they hadn’t already seen how it ended. They also shushed the few comments he’d made, so apparently talking time was over.
They both sighed at the happy ending. Then, with no warning, Bailey Rae shoved the bunny into his hands. “Time for s’mores!” She shot off the couch and sprinted into the kitchen for the supplies.
Wyatt frowned at the furry creature, trying to figure out how to hold it and wondering if it was potty trained. He predicted he’d find out in about three, two…
A laugh sputtered out of Jemma, and he glanced at her. “What?”
“It’s just you and that bunny. Don’t you own horses and cows? And I swear I saw some chickens when I brought over your horse. Yet you’re afraid of a bunny.”
“I’m not afraid of it.” He twisted the pet so its wiggling nose faced him, but continued to hold it away from his body, and Jemma laughed again. “I just don’t want it to use the bathroom on me.”
“Here.” Jemma’s fingers brushed his as he handed over the bunny, and a shock of electricity coursed up his arm and settled in his chest. She placed her pet in its carrier and scooted to the edge of the couch. Her eyes met his, and he was suddenly aware of how close she was, and her endlessly blue eyes, and the way her easy smile lit her entire face.
Then he was thinking of how good she was with Bailey Rae.
Of how beautiful she was, with or without makeup. Of how kind and bubbly she was and how he smiled more when she was around.
Of way, way too much.
“Got the stuff.” Bailey Rae stepped into the room, her arms filled with a box of graham crackers, a bag of marshmallows, and a Hershey bar. “Miss Monroe, how do you like your marshmallows?”
“Light brown on the outside, melty on the middle.”
“Me too, but I always get impatient and burn them.” Bailey Rae dumped everything on the side table nearest the fireplace, and Jemma moved next to her. They stuck marshmallows on the metal sticks and extended the ends toward the flames.
Wyatt slowly pushed to his feet and walked over to join them.
As usual, Bailey Rae caught her marshmallow on fire. Then she shrugged and assembled her s’more.
Jemma glanced at him as she rotated her stick. “What about you? I know you said patience wasn’t your strong suit, even though you’ve demonstrated a whole lot of it tonight. With me and that movie.”
“I’m better with marshmallows than people.”
She looked from him to Bailey Rae, who’d melted chocolate on her lip and chin, and then back at him. “I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”
“Well, she’s easy. Practically raises herself.”
“I’m not just talking about her. You’ve bailed me out of a mess twice now. I appreciate it. And I enjoyed the movie, so thank you for inviting me.”
“Hey, Miss Monroe…”
Jemma turned around and grabbed the graham crackers his daughter had extended her way. “I think it’d be okay if you called me Jemma when we’re not at school. Miss Monroe feels so formal.”
Wyatt considered objecting. He couldn’t get too close to Jemma, and Bailey Rae shouldn’t either.
But Bailey Rae nodded and was off and talking before he had a chance to interject. “Cool. So, Jemma, did you know we had our first baby cow last weekend?”
“Aren’t they born in the spring? Or is that just my city girl upbringing showing?” She bumped her shoulder into his, and his pulse quickened. He could smell her perfume too, something light and vanilla.
He gave her a quick smile as he got to work building his s’more. “We always have a couple that decide to come early. Usually on the coldest day possible, although I suppose I shouldn’t say that, because at least it wasn’t during a blizzard.”
Jemma’s eyes went wide. “What do you do then?”
“Bundle up and go to the barn to see if she needs help.”
“The cow?”
“Yep. Occasionally they do, and if I’m not there to help and something goes wrong, we could lose one.”
“Whoa. I had no idea it was so intense.”
“You should see the baby calves when they first come out,” Bailey Rae said. “They’re all wobbly and they make this tiny little moo. Since this one’s a preemie, his moo sounds kind of like a mew and he’s so, so cute. Also, our horse has pink boots right now. When I was talking to her earlier, I told her we matched.”
His daughter had always been a bit of an oversharer, but Jemma didn’t seem to mind. She asked a few more questions about when most of the other babies were born.
Mostly spring, with a handful of late ones that showed up in June and were runts for most of the summer. It always impressed him how quickly they caught up to the rest of the calves, though.
“Can we show her the baby calf?” Bailey Rae asked, bouncing on her toes and working on making her second s’more. “If you want to see it, that is. Which trust me, you do.”
Wyatt expected her to say no, and he wouldn’t blame her because she’d already been too cold plenty of times today, but Jemma said, “I do want to see it. Even if I have to bundle up.”
They shoved down the last of their s’mores, put on a variety of coats and gloves and scarves, and made the short trek to the barn. Bailey Rae grabbed Jemma’s hand and walked her closer to the pen where the recovering mom and calf were, a mix of black and white.
High-pitched squeaks filled the air, and Wyatt covered his grin with his glove. He never squealed or made cooing noises to the cows, which was probably why the calf wobbled over to the ladies instead.
Then again, his sister always joked he was the bull whisperer because he treated the giant animals like puppies. What could he say? He’d always been better at communicating with dudes. After nearly a decade with Bailey Rae, he was starting to speak female a little better, though.
He checked on a few of the other cows, but they still had some time to go before they’d be having their babies, so nothing was pressing for now. They walked to the other section of the barn, with the stalls where he kept his horses. Jemma stopped to say hello to Casper, who was happy to see her, and then they introduced her to Zora. Wyatt opened his mouth to explain the bowed tendon, but Bailey Rae beat him to it.
“I’m sad I didn’t get to talk to Uncle Dempsey when he came over—it’s been a long time since I saw him besides waving.” She jumped off the gate, landing on the ground with a puff of hay dust. “Oh, and he’s not my uncle by blood, but he is my uncle.” Her eyebrows scrunched together. “It’s kind of hard to explain. You tell her, Dad.”
“Oh, I get to talk now,” he teased, poking her side and making her giggle. Then he looked at Jemma, who had that easy smile on her face that mixed up his brain and made a mess of his insides. “Dempsey’s the town vet, and he’s also one of my ol
dest friends. He’s known Bailey Rae since she was just a crying baby.”
“Hey, you said I didn’t cry that much.”
Wyatt ran his hand over his daughter’s head. “You didn’t. But when you did, man did you go on and on.”
She giggled and shrugged. “That’s what babies do.”
“Then they grow up and get lots more fun,” he said, meaning every word. As busy as he was, his daughter could and did lift his spirits. He’d do anything to make her happy, which was why she was in ballet and why he couldn’t stop ordering unicorn gifts to surprise her with.
Bailey Rae gave his hand a quick squeeze before returning her attention to Jemma. “So, that’s the grand tour of the barn.”
“And what a grand tour it was,” Jemma said. “Can we swing by and look at the baby cow one more time?”
Bailey Rae led the way, and when they left the barn, she asked if she could ride back to Jemma’s house with them. They went into his house to make sure the fire was taken care of, and then Jemma grabbed her bunny carrier and they all piled into the truck.
Once they arrived at the cottage, Wyatt checked that the smoke had mostly cleared and that the heater was working so she’d be warm enough tonight.
“Thanks again for helping me out,” Jemma said to him and Bailey Rae. “And for letting me crash your movie night.”
“It was so much fun, and you get all the things Dad doesn’t. We should totally do it again.” Bailey Rae hugged Jemma around the middle. “Goodbye. See you Monday morning.”
Jemma squeezed back, and Wyatt watched on, his chest growing tighter and tighter. Earlier tonight he’d felt too many of the mushy emotions, but now the quicksand effect was taking over. He was getting in too deep, the sand coming too close to his head.
Not to mention his daughter and her growing attachment—it was written all over her face. She was happier now, but she’d taken it hard when Andrea had first left. Her own mom hardly checked in, and only made plans to see her a few times a year.
It’d hurt him too, even though he’d known they’d been growing apart and she’d been unhappy out here in the country and with motherhood. But watching his daughter hurt had sliced him right open.
