Country Hearts

by Cindi Madsen

  “It’ll get too cold for you once the sun sets—I’ll just take you along.” He ran his hand over the horse’s muscular neck. “You don’t mind, do you, Dasher?”

  The horse whinnied.

  Wyatt climbed into the saddle, the leather creaking as he settled in, and then he reached for her hand. Jemma gripped it like a lifeline. She slid her foot into the stirrup as instructed, and Wyatt pulled her on in front of him. He showed her how to turn the horse using the reins and how to pull him to a stop.

  Then he told her to point Dasher toward the lone tree across the way.

  He nudged the horse forward, making a clicking noise with his tongue, and Jemma gripped on to the reins. She bumped a bit in the saddle until she found the rhythm, her heart picking up speed at the new adventure.

  Okay, this is more fun than I thought it’d be. Most likely because of the cowboy behind her and how he’d give soft instructions in her ear, his warm breath hitting her neck and leaving her slightly dizzy.

  Still, there was also something about feeling the strength of the horse underneath them, taking long strides that ate up the distance. The sprawl of endless land leading to giant snow-capped mountains. The last rays of sunshine made the snow sparkle, leaving the ground glittery and the clouds and sky a picturesque mix of purple, reddish-orange, and pink.

  The cool air nipped at her skin, but it only added to the buzz of a new experience, one that let her focus on the beauty of this place she’d been lucky enough to land in for a while.

  “Can we go faster?” she asked, glancing at the cowboy behind her.

  He was just as beautiful as the land, something she doubted he’d appreciate her voicing. Normally she wouldn’t think of a guy as beautiful, but it was as if he’d been sculpted from the same stuff as the mountains, resolute and captivating, promising excitement to those who dared to go exploring.

  “Faster it is. Better hang on.” After she gripped the saddle horn, the reins wound around her fist, Wyatt gave a loud “yah,” and then they were flying across the field, the cold wind whipping her cheeks.

  It was what she imagined flying would feel like, only she had a warm body behind her, making her feel more secure.

  Making her feel an overwhelming amalgamation of delight and longing.

  They arrived at the field with the tree, where a lot of cows with swollen pregnant bellies also were. Once Wyatt found the cow he was looking for, he reached around Jemma to take the reins. He cut the black cow from the rest of the herd, and Dasher stayed by its side, urging her toward the barn. They kept a slow, measured pace, though, no more galloping.

  Wyatt explained the cow showed signs that she’d be having her baby soon, so he wanted her in the barn so he could keep a closer eye on her and keep the baby calf—once it came—warm.

  As soon as the mama cow was secured in the barn, Wyatt dismounted and helped Jemma down with a hip-grip move that ratcheted up her heart rate.

  While he led Dasher into the corral, Jemma stomped around, trying to keep herself warm. Her nose and cheeks were numb, and her toes were following closely behind.

  Wyatt secured the gate as he came back out of the corral, and then he stepped closer to her and rubbed his hands over her arms.

  “I’m not built for cold weather,” she said as a full-body shiver gripped her.

  “Well, let’s get you inside, then.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and started for the house. “I’ll even make you a fire so you don’t go home and smoke yourself out.”

  She curled closer to his side, soaking in his warmth. “I have groceries in my trunk. I’d be happy to make dinner.”

  “I’d be more than happy to eat it.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Wyatt had just finished stacking the wood in the fireplace when Lori and Bailey Rae burst through the front door.

  Jemma had unloaded her bag of groceries, the sounds of opening drawers and cupboards and clanging pans drifting over to him as she moved around the kitchen.

  After she’d offered to make dinner, he’d almost called and asked Lori to keep Bailey Rae a little longer, but his sister had already picked her up, taken her to dance practice, and let her hang out for most of the afternoon.

  Good thing he’d resisted, because he needed the reminder that pulling Jemma too far into his life could end in a debris-riddled mess that would not only affect him, but his daughter as well.

  Besides, he leaned on his sister too much as it was, considering everything she already had going on.

  “Oh, hello again,” Lori said, her gaze moving to the woman in his kitchen.

  “Jemma!” Bailey Rae rushed over, the pink skirt of her ballet outfit streaming behind her, and threw her arms around their fill-in chef, who squeezed her back with equal zeal.

  He soaked it in, letting himself pretend for a moment that it was a possibility. Him and Jemma and Bailey Rae. Happy. Cozy.

  A family.

  “Oh, sure,” Wyatt teased. “You hug your teacher before you hug your dear old dad.” Bailey Rae bounded toward him and he crouched down so she could give him a big hug, the tight bun he still hadn’t mastered bumping his chin. “Were you good for Aunt Lori?”

  “Dad. I’m always good.”

  Wyatt looked to his sister for confirmation, even though Bailes was a dang good kid, one he didn’t have to worry too much about. Save kids who said unkind things to her, and then having to control his own temper. She was doing much better this semester, though, and he had no doubt in his mind that a lot of that was thanks to Jemma.

  “Honestly, she helps so much with the boys that I’m thinking of stealing her for longer,” Lori said, a silent question or hint in the mix of words.

  His knees popped as he straightened—it’d been a long day. “We can schedule something next week.”

  Lori’s arched eyebrows were definitely asking if he was sure, and in case he missed that, she tipped her head toward Jemma.

  She had a knife in her hand and was stabbing the top of the square container she’d placed on the counter. “If you’re hungry, I’m about to pop one of the only meals I can make in the oven—premade lasagna that I only have to stab and warm up. It’s kinda my specialty.”

  His sister laughed. “Thank you, but we ate already.”

  Jemma opened the oven and placed the lasagna inside, and he tried not to think about how much he liked having her in his house, moving around like she belonged here.

  Careful. That’s a dangerous line of thinking.

  The oven door closed with a bang that seemed to surprise her, and then she set a timer.

  They all wished Lori goodbye, and then Jemma rounded the counter and asked Bailey Rae about her day.

  His daughter started backward, telling her about helping Aunt Lori out with her kids and how they’d made corn muffins and soup, and then she mentioned dance practice. She was finally getting the routine down and did Jemma like her skirt and wait one second and she’d grab her toe shoes so Jemma could see them.

  Bailey Rae dug into her bag and withdrew the pink hand-me-down slippers with the never-ending ribbon. He’d had to watch a YouTube video just to help her figure out how to tie them. “Did you ever try ballet?” she asked as she handed Jemma the shoes.

  “So long ago that I only remember what a plié is and how much they hurt your thighs.”

  “They totally do!”

  Wyatt had been against ballet lessons at first, mostly because what skill would that teach his daughter? Lori was the one who’d told him she needed to have hobbies and to do girly things he might not understand.

  It wasn’t until her first recital that he’d understood. He’d seen her joy. The way she’d shone onstage. How hard she worked at it, teaching her discipline and endurance in a more fun way than he ever could.

  “Can I show you some of my routine?”

  Jemma extended
the shoes back to Bailey Rae. “Funny, I was about to ask if you would.”

  His daughter’s entire face lit up, and she went to bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I’ll get the music going. Daddy, can you move the coffee table?”

  As usual, he was a sucker for whatever she wanted. He slid the coffee table aside and kicked his discarded boots into the corner so she’d have a decent area to show off her skills.

  Music that made him cringe blared through the speaker Bailey Rae had sent her music to. The people in town called the fairly new dance teacher “progressive,” which was just a fancy way of saying doing ballet to loud, obnoxious pop music.

  Not that he was a classical music guy, either. Give him a song heavy with a non-synthesized guitar any day.

  Jemma moved next to him to watch the show. Bailey Rae counted in her head, each nod a beat, and then she was off and moving. Up on the tips of her toes, spinning, dipping, twirling. Her skirt flared, and her grin widened.

  Music notwithstanding, it was amazing to watch her get lost in the music. To see how far she’d come. And more impressive, how she didn’t get dizzy from doing those countless turns. These days, he spun around to check on an animal and almost lost his balance.

  The song came to a close, and they clapped as Bailey Rae bowed. Then she held her hand out to Jemma. “Show me what you remember.”

  “Oh, I, uh…”

  Bailey grabbed her hand and tugged, and then both of them were in the center of the room. Jemma glided along with his daughter, laughing and spinning, and he took a step forward, afraid she was going to wreck into the fireplace.

  But then she straightened out. She blinked as if she were trying to regain her bearings. After shooting each other a sidelong glance, they both bowed, and he clapped extra loud. Jemma’s eyes locked on to his, and he suddenly found it hard to swallow.

  Even harder to breathe.

  “That was a real fine show,” he managed to scrape out. He cleared his throat. “But it’s time for some real music.” He grabbed his phone and set his favorite country music playlist to shuffle.

  “If you think that’s going to stop me from dancing,” Jemma said with a laugh, “I’m sorry to tell you it’s not going to work. Camilla’s been dragging me to country dance aerobics every Thursday night, and I’m getting pretty…decent. Well, that’s probably a stretch. But I stopped wrecking into people.” She wrinkled her nose, a ridiculously adorable move. “Mostly.”

  He huffed a laugh, trying to picture his city girl out on the dance floor.

  Er, not my city girl. The city girl. Yeah.

  “Ooh, show me some moves.” Bailey Rae quickly unlaced and kicked off her ballet slippers, the ribbons puddling on the floor.

  “This is the scuff kick.” Jemma demonstrated, and Bailey Rae followed. “Oh, and there’s this one Essie calls the penguin tail.”

  “She always has the best names for moves,” his daughter said.

  Jemma did a sort of waddle shuffle and then lifted her leg and smacked her hip. Bailey Rae mimicked the movement, and then they added it to the first bit of choreography.

  Jemma looked to him. “Want to join us? I think you’d be a natural at the penguin tail,” she said, and his daughter giggled.

  “Funny.” He lowered himself to the arm of the couch. “But I’d rather stay where I am and watch, thanks.”

  “Suit yourself.” She glanced down at Bailey Rae. “This is the one I always struggle with. The kick ball change makes me want to put my weight on my right foot, but I’m supposed to lean on my left. I have to do it super slow the first few times, but every time Essie speeds it up, I get all turned around again.”

  He had no idea what half those words meant, but he liked watching the demonstration.

  “I think I got it,” his daughter said, and then she and Jemma did it together. Slow at first, then faster and faster. Bailes called out those nonsense words a few times, and then Jemma applauded herself.

  “That’s it. I think I’ve finally got it. Let’s do the entire thing,” Jemma said, and his daughter enthusiastically nodded. “Five, six, seven, eight.”

  They strung the steps together, doing the same moves and completing the routine.

  He was still grinning, feeling those same dangerous desires about the three of them together like this all the time, when Bailey spun to face him. “Daddy knows how to country dance. The couple-type dances with lots of spinning.”

  His grin faded, and he let his forearms fall down to his thighs. “No. I don’t know how to do any of that anymore. That sort of knowledge slipped out when you made me memorize the name of every My Little Pony.”

  Bailey Rae tipped her head, her lips pursed. “Don’t make me call you a pants on fire.”

  The girl was going to be the death of him.

  Jemma crossed her arms. “Let’s see your moves, cowboy.”

  With a groan, he reluctantly pushed to his feet and reached out for Bailey Rae’s hand.

  “Show Jemma. I’m too short, and besides…” She let out a long exhale. “I’m exhausted.” She flopped onto the couch, several of her blond curls slipping out of her bun. “My turn to sit and watch.”

  Time seemed to grind to a halt as he turned to Jemma. To dance or not to dance? Not that his daughter had left him much wiggle room.

  One of his favorite songs came on, tempting him further.

  If he was being honest with himself, the idea of dancing with Jemma was tempting enough.

  “Don’t think I won’t boo you guys,” Bailey Rae said from her spot on the couch. Evidently she’d turned into the harsh judge on all those talent-type singing and dancing shows.

  Wyatt extended a hand to Jemma, and she slipped her much-smaller one into his. He guided her other hand to his shoulder and placed his hand on her lower back, fingers spread wide. “We’ll start left. Just let me lead.”

  “It’s not really in my nature, but I’ll do my best.” The smile she flashed him made his gut tighten.

  “Three, two…” He guided her around the room, avoiding the mantle and a sketchbook that’d been left on the floor. As the music picked up speed, he brushed off his rusty moves, reached up and took Jemma’s other hand, and then twirled her out before spinning her back to him.

  Jemma gripped his upper arms as she peered down at his feet and tried to follow his steps. “You said you were going to teach Casper to dance, and now I’m thinking Casper needs to wait his turn.”

  He laughed and took one of her hands again, repeated the spin move but then guided her under his arm as she worked to keep up. They got tangled up for a couple of seconds before she dove under his arm, the way he’d been attempting to guide her to do.

  The song was coming to a close, so he twirled her back in tight, securing his arm around her lower waist. The air in the room grew thinner as their eyes met. A beautiful grin curved Jemma’s lips, making it impossible not to stare at them.

  His heart beat a rapid pace against the palm she had on his chest, and he wondered if she could feel it too. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and a haze filled her eyes, one he was sure was reflected in his.

  The song ended, and Bailey Rae clapped and added an ear-piercing whistle she’d learned herding cows, and the world around them sharpened back into relief.

  Wyatt dropped his arms, took a step back, and rubbed his neck.

  Jemma reached up and fiddled with her dangly earring. “Thanks for the dance. I should probably go check on the food.”

  He stood in the center of the living room, not sure what to think or do. Every minute he spent with her made him want to spend more and more, and he was already getting in too deep.

  “It’s ready,” Jemma called as she came around the archway of the kitchen.

  Bailey Rae pushed off the couch. “I’m going to go change out of my leotard. I’m much too full to eat another dinner anyway. C
all me when it’s time for dessert, okay?”

  Wyatt cocked an eyebrow. “If you’re too full, why doesn’t that apply to dessert?”

  The shrug was over the top, the sigh extra dramatic. “I’m not sure about the exact science, but it’s a thing. Just trust me.”

  He shook his head, but he was fighting laughter, and Jemma didn’t bother fighting hers as she leaned against the archway. “We’ll have to study the science behind that in class this week, because I’m not sure how it works, either, but I know it’s very, very real.”

  “See?” Bailey Rae said.

  “Great. There’s two of them now. Ganged up on in my own house.”

  The gals grinned at each other, and that thought about Jemma belonging hit him yet again.

  “Anyway, you guys enjoy your space.” Great, now his daughter was giving him the same type of look his sister had, heavy on the hinting he should take advantage of any time he could get.

  She started down the hallway, abruptly backtracked, and took two candles off the bookshelf that was in severe need of dusting. She put them in the middle of the table, unlit. “I won’t come out of my room until you knock and tell me there’s dessert, I promise cross my heart.”

  Dang it. She was already seeing them all as a happy family. So much for stopping it before it got out of control.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Smells delicious,” Wyatt said, grabbing a couple of plates. What else could he do? Refuse to eat when he was starving? Tell Jemma she should go when she’d brought her dinner over to share?

  More than that, he wanted to have dinner with her.

  Clearly Bailey Rae wanted that as well, but she wanted more than the two of them to share a meal. She was playing Cupid even when she wasn’t onstage. First there had been the arrows, and now with the dancing and the candles.

  His daughter probably didn’t realize the reason they were supposed to be romantic was the soft candlelight, but right now, with his and Jemma’s undeniable chemistry firing between them, the air felt smothered with enough romance.