Callie was practically out of breath by the time she was done with her story, so she took a sip of her beer. She was aware she was rambling, but she couldn't help it. The idea that the two of them could be an actual couple was totally absurd. So why did it make all the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention to hear the idea mentioned?
"All right, Miss," Chuck said agreeably, "if you say so. I'll take your word for it. Still, if it's all the same to you, he's a good man, Finn is. I'd have no problem swearing in a court of law that he's one of the best men I know."
“What are you two talking about?” Finn asked, coming up behind Callie and making her jump about a mile off her stool. She almost spilled her beer all over again, this time in her lap, and barely managed to get her glass safely onto the bar. She was feeling pretty satisfied with herself, too, until she looked up and saw the way Chuck was looking at her. He raised his eyebrows, cut his eyes to one side, and then ambled away from them, whistling a jaunty tune.
“What was that about?” Finn asked, standing in front of her and claiming his own glass, “Chuck giving you trouble? He’s a little rough around the edges, I won’t deny it, but he’s a good man. You just let me know if you need me to give him a talking-to, and I’ll be happy to do it. Not that he’s likely to listen to me.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Callie let slip before she could help it. When he gave her a puzzled look, she busied herself with another sip of beer. If things kept going at this rate, she thought she would leave for New York having finally developed a Texan’s love of beer.
“What’s that mean?” he asked, still looking at her with that curious, too-speculative expression. She busied herself with yet another sip, enjoying the little buzz it sent to her head and trying to figure out how to change the subject. As it turned out, she didn’t have to. The jukebox did it for her. The bar had quieted slightly, for a place as busy as the Pub was that evening, and when the next song came on, Finn’s entire face lit up.
“Aw, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this to you, Callie, I really was, but you’re going to have to put that beer down for a minute.”
“What? Why? What do you mean?” she asked, doing what he said but thoroughly confused.
“It’s this song, Callie,” he grinned, setting down his own beer and gesturing for her to stand. “At the end of the day, you’ll just have to chalk it up to the song, and go with it.”
“Really?” she asked, staring at Finn as if he had just grown a third eye. “I don’t even know what this song is.”
“No!” he shouted indignantly, laughing when the heads on the other stools all swiveled in their direction, “No, don’t tell me that! ‘Wild Horses’? Rolling Stones? You have to know it!”
"Nope," she laughed nervously, shaking her head. "I don't. Should I?"
“Of course you should!” he roared, taking her by the hand before she could understand what was going on. “And from now on, you will. I’m pretty sure that, by the time I’m done, you’ll be so humiliated, you won’t ever forget the experience.”
“The experience? What do you mean? We’re just talking about a song!”
“Nope,” Finn said, smiling mischievously as he started pulling her toward the makeshift dance floor set up in the middle of the Pub’s dirty floor, “we were just talking about a song. Now, we’re talking about a song and a dance. That’s a whole ‘nother animal.”
“No!” Callie blanched, stumbling over her own feet and almost falling. “Finn, please, I can’t!”
“Sure you can,” he called over one shoulder. “It’s easy. You’re lucky it’s a slow song and not one of their faster ones. All you gotta do is try not to step on my feet.”
“But I can’t promise that!” Callie said, on the verge of panic as they reached the dance floor. “I’m not a dancer, really, Finn. I...I’ve never danced with a guy before. Never slow danced with one.”
Finn stared down at her, his eyes shining with beer and the warmth of good friends. She looked down at her toes, embarrassed to admit that she had somehow managed to miss this very basic rite of passage. She could have died right there, melted into a puddle of shame on the floor, and she felt dangerously, ridiculously close to tears. When Finn's work-worn fingers slipped beneath her chin, though, she did not resist meeting his gaze. What she saw on his face both put her at rest and made the fluttering in her stomach ten times worse. There was no judgment there, not even the smallest bit.
"Hey, sugar," he said, apparently unconscious of his use of such an affectionate term, "that's all right by me. There's a first time for everything. You've kind of been reminding me of that, if you want to know God's honest truth. I'd be honored to be the man to give you your first dance."
And so Callie allowed him to take her in his arms, feeling one of his large, strong hands firmly find its place, warming the small of her back, and letting him enfold her free hand in his. They moved together to the music, and Callie was astonished that she had put up such a fuss. They weren’t doing much more than swaying, all that the crowded space allowed, but it felt like they had the whole dance floor to themselves—like they had the entire world to themselves.
When the song was over, Callie hardly noticed. Finn didn't seem to notice, either. It was only when somebody dropped a glass and it shattered, a full thirty seconds after the song finished, that he let her go, taking a quick step backward and clearing his throat as he looked down at the ground like a little boy embarrassed after saying something too sweet.
“Well,” he stammered, “I hope that wasn’t too painful.”
“Not at all,” she said, her throat thick with an unexpected emotion she couldn’t name, “and I hope I didn’t step on your feet too many times.”
“Not even once,” Finn said. “You’re a natural. Definitely earned yourself another beer, so long as you answer me one question.”
“Sure, name it,” Callie said, suddenly breathless.
“I’ve gotta know what you thought of the song,” Finn smiled softly. “What did you think of ‘Wild Horses’?”
"I think it's my new favorite song," she said without hesitation. He laughed and nodded toward their seats, the comment heard and as easily forgotten. Callie followed dutifully, her wobbly knees grateful for a chance to sit. She didn't press the matter, but she also hadn't been joking. She had a feeling that for the rest of her life, she would get chills when that particular song came on.
Ten
“Callie! Callie, I know it’s early, but you’ve got to wake up! I need your help with something.”
At the urgency in Finn’s call, Callie shot up in her bed as if she’d been electrocuted. She had gone from dead asleep to painfully, fearfully awake in a matter of seconds, leaving her feeling shaky and sick as she groped frantically for her robe. She didn’t think to turn the light on, disoriented by her abrupt awakening, and when several moments that felt like years went by without her being able to find it, she clenched her fists in frustration.
“Forget it,” she whispered angrily to herself, and then louder, to Finn, she called, “I’m coming! Hold on just one minute, I’m on my way!”
One stubbed toe and a whole slew of unmentionable words later, Callie flung the door open, breathless and fearful for what might be waiting on the other side. As a teacher who dealt with small children day in and day out, hearing the kind of distress Finn’s voice now held, her first thought was that a child was either in danger or badly hurt. She was so sure that at first, she didn’t understand what she was looking at. It was only Finn, his jeans covered in muck and straw dotting his hair.
“Good gracious!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with the effort of taking in the whole scene. “What is it? Is everything okay? Is it Wendy? Is she hurt?”
“What?” he asked, running his hand distractedly through his hair. “No, she’s fine. Shoot, I’m sorry about that. I probably scared the dickens out of you, didn’t I?”
“Don’t worry about that,” she said quickly, only now becomi
ng aware of how skimpy her nightgown was without her robe to cover it, “just tell me what’s wrong. Whatever you need help with, I’m there.”
“It’s the mare,” Finn said, his eyes dropping down the front of her nightgown and then flying up to her face again while two spots of color formed in his cheeks, “Do you remember me telling you about that? About a mare who was going to foal?”
“Um, yes, I think so,” she said, concentrating hard.
She was flustered by the sudden topic of conversation and even more flustered seeing Finn this way. It wasn’t the fact that his eyes kept slipping down the front of her nightie, although that was plenty distracting in its own right. It was the rest of it, how businesslike and authoritative he was. Urgency or no, he was clearly completely in his element now. That was when she really got what he was saying. The emergency was one of the horses, not a person. Understanding what was happening helped clear her head, and she nodded vigorously, hoping to instill more confidence than she might have with the answer she’d just given.
“Good,” he answered briskly. “Excellent. It’s time. She’s earlier than I expected, but she’s ready to foal, and it’s too early for any of the hands I usually have around to be here. Wendy’s a good helper, but—”
“She’s a little girl,” Callie finished for him.
“Yes,” he answered gratefully, “exactly. I know it’s nowhere in the job description for a nanny, but it would mean a hell of a lot if you’d be willing to help out. I won’t ask you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, but just having another adult on hand will make all the difference. Even having somebody to help me manage Wendy if need be.”
"Of course," Callie said firmly, putting a stop to Finn's steady, almost rambling stream of words, "you don't even need to ask. Whatever you need, I'm there. Just give me a minute to change my clothes, and I'll meet you down at the stables, okay?"
“Sure, of course,” he answered, taking one more involuntary look at the front of her nightclothes before hurrying down the hall and, presumably, back to the horse that had him so excited.
Callie got dressed in a flurry, grabbing for things and flinging them on without any thought to what she was wearing. She had no idea what one was supposed to wear while helping to birth a baby horse, anyhow, and she could feel the pull of Finn’s urgency. She could feel him needing her there beside him, and that alone was enough for her to move like the wind. She pulled her hair back into a messy, tangled ponytail and hurried out her door, not bothering to make her bed for the first time since coming to stay at the Henry ranch.
“Sorry, sorry!” she shouted, bursting into the barn. “I’m so sorry that took so long. What did I miss? What can I do?”
“First of all, relax. Take a breath. You didn’t miss anything important. We’re just glad you’re here now, aren’t we Wendy?”
“Super, super, duper excited!” Wendy whisper-shouted, her face glowing with the fevered energy of a little girl who hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before. She was jumping up and clapping her hands, every bit as excited as most kids would be on Christmas morning. Every other hop or so, she looked at Finn, looking toward her daddy as if he were a movie star. Even though Callie knew he was too busy to notice, she sorely wished that he would. Something told her that if he could see that look, really see it and understand what it was, he would never feel at odds with his little girl again. That look in Wendy’s eyes was pure love.
"Hey, Wendy, come stand with me," Callie said, opening her arms and bracing herself as Wendy barreled toward her, throwing her full weight into a frenzied hug. "You're going to have to be my little helper, okay? You seem like you know exactly what you're doing, and I don't have the first clue. I've never seen anything like this, never been there when anything was born."
“Not even a kindle of kittens?” Wendy asked, slack-jawed and amazed, “Everybody’s seen that.”
“Nope,” Callie smiled down, “not even that. This is going to be my first time.”
“There’s a lot of firsts happening lately, aren’t there?” Finn commented without looking up from what he was doing. Callie was so surprised by the comment that she could hardly believe he’d said it, especially being so busy with the poor horse. She had hardly slept a wink the night before, instead lying there thinking about the warmth of his hand on her back, his body guiding hers so that it felt like she already knew the steps to a dance she’d never seen. She’d felt foolish for not being able to get it out of her mind, and she had assumed that Finn wouldn’t pay another thought to their unexpected evening together at the bar.
“What’s that mean?” Wendy asked curiously, “Your face is all red now.”
“Nothing,” Callie said, biting her lip nervously. “It doesn’t mean anything at all. Now, are you going to show me what to do, or what? I want to help!”
“Yeah!” Wendy whispered excitedly. “I get to teach you now!”
“You sure do,” Callie laughed, “so go ahead. Lead the way.”
What followed was a crash course in ranching, unlike anything she’d expected to experience as a nanny. While Finn stayed close beside the laboring mare, Callie fetched water and clean cloths with Wendy. She helped her little charge feed the other horses and then the chickens waiting indignantly for their feed. They both took up large, industrial-sized push brooms and set to sweeping the other end of the large barn, one of many tasks Finn would perform on a normal day. They were just about to start mucking stalls, something Callie wasn’t exactly looking forward to, when Finn called for them to come.
“It’s time, girls,” he said, his voice tight and tense with excitement, “she’s well into the second stage of delivery. The foal’s coming. You guys want to see?”
Wendy grabbed Callie by the hand, pulling her along the newly swept barn corridor in a gesture that was eerily similar to the way Finn had led Callie to the dance floor the night before. When they arrived at the birthing stall, Finn was down on his knees beside the mare, all his muscles tensed. From where Callie stood, she could see the front half of the foal. Finn was gently wiping the baby’s nostrils, doing so as tenderly and lovingly as a mother with a newborn child.
"What can we do?" she asked, her heart jackhammering in her chest so hard, it was a wonder she didn't pass out on the spot. Teaching was a specialty of hers, something she was good at and considered a calling. That being said, blood was not one of her favorite things, and she was always glad to have the school nurse handle anything beyond scrapes and bruises.
“You don’t have to do a thing at this point,” Finn said, “nothing but sit back and observe the miracle.”
"It's cool, right?" Wendy said breathlessly, back to her signature move of hopping up and down like the Energizer Bunny. "Sometimes people think it’s yucky, but I think it's super cool.”
“Super-duper cool,” Callie replied with laughing agreement. She was about to ask her favorite little girl what she was thinking about in terms of names when Finn let out a low exclamation of surprise.
“What?” Callie asked, instantly coming to his side, her dislike of blood set aside. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter,” Finn laughed, rocking back onto the heels of his boots and swiping his arm across his forehead to mop up the sweat, “not unless you’ve got something against twins, that is.”
“Twins?” Callie repeated, floored by the surprise. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Finn agreed, looking every bit as dumbfounded as she felt. “Just stand back and watch the magic. They’re amazing creatures, horses are. They pretty much take care of everything on their own.”
Without thinking about what she was doing, Callie rested a hand on Finn’s shoulder. The two of them remained that way, him kneeling and her right behind him, watching the one foal take his first tentative steps while the other was born. Behind them, Wendy clapped and began singing a strange little ditty that Callie was almost sure the girl had made up. Once both foals were out, peering around themselves with the
wide-eyed wonder reserved for the newly born, Finn stood and took the towel Callie had waiting for him. He nodded his thanks, his eyes warm and shining, and then turned his attention to his daughter.
“So now comes the really hard part, right, little lady?” he asked, grinning.
“I get to name them,” Wendy said excitedly. “I get to name all of the baby animals on the ranch. It’s my special job, isn’t it, Daddy?”
“That’s exactly right, sweet pea,” he agreed, “and you do a pretty great job with it, too.”
"It used to be Mommy's job," Wendy continued, a-flight on her buzz of adrenaline now and heedless of Finn’s wince. "Mommy always got to name the animals, but then she had to go up to heaven early. Now, Daddy lets me do it. It makes me feel good. It makes me feel like she's proud."
“And it should, bug,” Callie said. She wanted to say more, but she couldn’t speak around the lump in her throat. When she looked up at Finn, unsure of what to do, he was discreetly directing his attention elsewhere. Callie pretended not to see the way he swiped at his eyes and fought the urge to put her arms around him. For her part, Wendy didn’t seem to notice the effect her words had on the adults in the room. Bright as she was, unusually intuitive, she was still very young.
“Why don’t I go on and head back to the house?” Callie asked Finn when she was sure she could speak again without making a fool of herself. “I’ll let the two of you have your space. This seems like a special moment. It kind of feels like it should be just for the two of you.”
“No, don’t go!” Wendy protested before Finn could open his mouth. “I want you to stay! Tell her to stay, Daddy.”
The Rancher’s Unexpected Nanny Page 8
