by Jane Porter
“Sometimes it’s worse when they say yes. I have had a few dates in the last couple of years, you know. Nothing ruins a perfectly good dinner like awkward conversation. Or the awkward lack thereof. With one girl, I skipped the dinner fiasco entirely and just took her to the movies.” He brightened. “That night ended pretty well.”
Tess did not want details. “You can’t base a relationship on just movies and...other activities that don’t require talking. Eventually you’d have to speak to her. All you need is practice. You’ve been riding horses your whole life, right?” At his prompt nod, she continued, “But your parents didn’t send you off at a full gallop your first time out of the gate. We just need to start small. And maybe...”
“What?”
She hesitated. On the drive over here, she’d planned to ask him how he’d feel about a slight change in image. A haircut, some new shirts—just a few minor tweaks that might help Farrah see him in a different light. But Tess was abruptly reluctant. He looked pretty damn good already.
“Tess?”
“I, uh...” She swallowed. “Sorry. Lost my train of thought.”
His expression turned sympathetic. “Nerves? We can turn back to the barn if you want.”
“What? Oh, no. Aimee and I are doing just fine.” Tess had momentarily forgotten she was even on horseback. She’d been too caught up in Nick. You mean, caught up in how to help him. That’s why she was here, after all. “Do you see many movies? If this were a romantic comedy, we’d be coming up on a makeover sequence, complete with musical montage.”
“Makeover?” He eyed her suspiciously. “The movies I like have shoot-outs, not manicures.”
“Which would be helpful if you wanted to kill a guy at high noon. Not so helpful in winning you a valentine. Don’t worry, I’m not talking about a full-on makeover. No one’s suggesting highlights or a spray tan—”
“I should hope the hell not!”
“But a haircut couldn’t hurt, perhaps some new clothes. All of which we can get at a mall. Know what else is at the mall?”
“A bunch of overpriced stuff I don’t need?”
“Women. Female salesclerks, stylists, shoppers. Lots of chances for you to practice nonranching small talk.”
“Sounds like a blast,” he said grimly.
“There’s a teacher planning day at the end of the week—my students are all excited about a day off school. We can take Bailey and make an outing of it, hit the food court for lunch, let her ride the big merry-go-round. How bad could it be, a full day of shopping and my shoving you into constant conversation with total strangers?”
“This is payback for making you get on a horse, isn’t it?”
No, that was just an added bonus. She gave him a sunny smile. “Why, Mr. Calhoun, I hope you don’t think I’m vindictive.”
He chuckled. “What I think is, it would be a mistake to ever underestimate you.”
That cinched it—he was not only the good-looking Calhoun brother, he was the smart one, too.
Chapter Five
Tess pushed away her empty salad bowl and resisted the urge to steal one of Nick’s heavenly-smelling French fries. A few yards away, Bailey waited her turn to go down the spiral slide that dominated the indoor playground. Nick had made the mistake of telling her she could play as soon as she’d finished her food; she’d inhaled her chicken nuggets and macaroni so quickly it was a wonder she hadn’t choked.
Now that the two adults were alone, Tess could dispense advice freely. It had seemed wrong to give Nick tips on picking up women in front of his six-year-old. “I know I said you need practice talking to women, but it’s not all about what you say. Being a good listener is a very sexy trait. And a smile can be just as effective as words. Especially a smile like yours.”
He tilted his head, regarding her with a mixture of chagrin and amusement. “I appreciate your trying to inspire confidence, but you don’t have to resort to flattery.”
“I never say anything I don’t mean!” She fixed him with a reproving look. “You know better than that.”
He thought she’d been exaggerating the truth to bolster him? The man must not own a mirror. He wasn’t like his brother Kevin, a sly grin always at the ready, but Nick’s smiles were infinitely more appealing. Ever since Nick and Bailey had picked her up at her house that morning, Tess had watched him joke with his daughter, particularly enjoying the way his eyes gleamed silver when he laughed.
Nick pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “You want me to chat up a bunch of strangers when I can’t even talk to you without putting my foot in my mouth?”
“People say things that come out wrong all the time. Just say you’re sorry and move on.”
“That easy, huh?”
“Yep, that easy.” Honesty compelled her to add, “More or less.”
* * *
IF NICK WAS AMBIVALENT about entering the expensive-looking salon on the second floor of the mall, his daughter was outright hostile.
“Why do I hafta get my bangs cut?” she asked, thrusting her lower lip out so far it was in a different zip code than the rest of her face.
“Because I miss seeing your pretty eyes,” Nick said, signing both their names on the waiting list. “I’ve forgotten what you look like. If your bangs get any longer, you’re gonna start walking into walls.”
From behind the wild fringe that hung halfway to her nose, Bailey glared. At least, that’s the impression he got. But she kept any further complaints to herself, leaving his side to peruse a children’s magazine rack.
Nick dropped into the chair next to Tess, imitating his daughter’s melodramatic whine. “Do I hafta get my hair cut? It’s not fairrr.”
Giggling, Tess shoved his shoulder. “Cowboy up. Set a good example for your kid.” A moment later, she bit her lip. “You won’t let them cut too much, though, will you?”
“I thought the point was to make me less shaggy.”
“Yeah, but... You look good exactly as you are. It’s just that, after people have known each other a long time, sometimes it takes kind of a lightbulb moment to get them to think of each other differently. You’re not a stammering fourteen-year-old kid anymore. You only need enough of a change to make Farrah do a double take, to really see you.”
It sounded good in theory, but given Farrah’s seeming disinterest when he’d said hi to her at the studio last Friday, earning a double take might require something drastic. Like a mohawk. Or an Afro. “How do you think I’d look with a buzz cut?”
“Don’t even joke about that!” Tess lifted a hand, sifting her fingers through his hair. It felt far better than it should. His scalp tingled beneath her touch, and he had the urge to lean closer.
“Miss Tess, can you help me?” Bay crawled into her ballet teacher’s lap. “I’m looking for hidden pictures.”
“Then you’re in luck,” Tess said. “Because I excel at finding those. It’s one of my five-hundred-and-thirteen talents.”
Bailey’s eyes widened. “That’s a lot. What are the other five hundred and...” She trailed off, her lips moving silently as she calculated. “Twelve? Is one of them fighting ninjas? Daddy and I do that at our tea parties. Maybe you could help us.”
The two females were discussing what style hat one wore to a formal gathering that included kung-fu combat when a woman with purple hair called Nick’s name. “Mr. Calhoun?”
Tess slid Bailey to Nick’s now-unoccupied chair and walked toward the stylist,
giving cheerful instructions.
The woman nodded. “Got it. Don’t worry, your husband is in good hands with me. He’ll look even hotter when I’m through.”
Tess’s face flushed. “Oh, no, we’re not... He isn’t...”
“Sorry.” The stylist ducked her magenta-tinged head. “I saw the three of you sitting together and assumed... My bad.”
Nick followed her to a chair at the back of the salon, thinking that he could understand her error. Anyone who’d watched Tess with Bailey today could easily conclude the two were mother and daughter. They’d been holding hands through the mall, playing guessing games and singing nonsensical songs. On the isolated occasions Tess had reprimanded the little girl for something, Bailey had immediately corrected her behavior. They didn’t look alike physically, but Bay didn’t much resemble Marla, either, having inherited Nick’s coloring.
Still, Tess and Bailey shared some sort of indefinable inner light, the same enthusiastic natures. Nick’s parents were good people; they’d tried their best to do right by their sons but there’d never been a sense of playfulness in his home. Until Bailey was born, the closest anyone in the family had come to a sense of humor was Kevin, but his “wit” centered far too much on his supposed prowess with women. There were few things Nick enjoyed more than laughing with his daughter. Before today, he hadn’t given much thought to how rarely he laughed with other adults.
The stylist dampened his hair with a spray bottle. “So if you two aren’t married, are you at least dating? Usually my instincts about couples are spot-on.”
“Sorry to end your streak, but no.”
“Platonic acquaintances don’t get that intense about each other’s haircuts. And did you see how she blushed? She likes you.”
Yeah, she’s so crazy about me that she’s going out of her way to throw me at other women. Nick returned the stylist’s smile in the mirror but didn’t bother responding.
What would Tess see in him? He was a horse-raising cowboy who occasionally found it difficult to articulate consecutive sentences; he had little time to date and the only dance performance he’d been to in his entire life was Bailey’s recital last spring. Tess’s two favorite things in life seemed to be ballet and conversation, and she wasn’t fond of horses. All they had in common were ancient playground history and affection for his daughter. Tess Fitzpatrick was exactly what she’d always been, an outspoken yet supportive friend.
Nothing more.
* * *
TESS STOPPED JUST INSIDE the department store, next to a pair of mannequins Nick found unsettling. Their features were vaguely alien—and sinister, as if they spent the hours after closing plotting the downfall of humankind.
“This is where we part ways,” Tess announced cheerfully.
“It is?” Nick was confused. She’d had a very definite opinion about his hair, yet didn’t care what clothes he selected? “I thought this was the montage where I try on outfits for your approval while some cheesy pop song is playing.”
Tess shook her head. “Nope. Bailey and I are going to check out that merry-go-round at the other end of the mall. If you want a second opinion on clothes, there are friendly sales associates I bet would be eager to help.”
“Ah.” So he was being ditched because Tess wanted him to practice flirting, which would be tough with an audience of his daughter and a woman mistaken for his significant other.
“Text me when you’re done here,” Tess said, “but take your time.”
“You say that now.” He cocked his head toward his daughter. “Someone can be a real handful.”
Tess laughed. “You’re talking to the original ‘unruly handful.’ According to my mother, at least. Trust me, I can keep up.”
While Nick had always been grateful for the help his mother gave him with Bailey, Erin Calhoun was the first to admit she was no longer the young woman who’d raised three boys. Her granddaughter wore her out quickly. After a few hours in Tess’s exuberant company, he was developing a finer appreciation for the reasons Bay wanted a mom. Renewed determination surged through him. He was going to follow whatever instructions Tess gave him and brave the dating world. Whether Farrah fell for him or not, Bailey wouldn’t grow up motherless simply because her father was too skittish to speak to women.
He met Tess’s gaze. “Got any last-minute advice?”
“Be yourself, just not yourself.”
“I should have been more specific. Got any advice that makes sense?”
Intrigued, Bailey stopped turning circles at Tess’s side. “You give me advice in ballet class. Are you teaching Daddy about dancing?”
“No, this is different advice.” Tess lifted her chin, doing her best to look somber. “I am a woman of much wisdom.”
Bailey frowned, her small forehead crinkled in confusion. Nick laughed outright.
“Hey!” Tess jabbed him in the shoulder. “Show some respect for the wise woman.”
He grinned down at her. “Aren’t wise women usually old and wrinkled? You’re...” His gaze slid over her, from her warm brown eyes to her wraparound navy dress, and his words evaporated.
It wasn’t a complete shock that she had such a delectably curvy little body—most of the times he saw her she was wearing a leotard and tights, after all. But he was usually in a hurry, ready to spend time with his daughter after a long day and often preoccupied with formulating dinner plans. And Tess was frequently talking to other parents or students, flashing him a smile from across the studio lobby. Though he saw her every single week, he now realized he hadn’t truly been looking at her. Suddenly, it—
Oh, hell. He was having one of those, what had she called it earlier? A lightbulb moment.
“Nick?” Her voice was soft, more tentative than he’d ever heard it, and her cheeks were scarlet.
Words failed him, as they so often did. He wished he knew how to express how lovely she was without insulting her by sounding stunned. He didn’t want to offend her. Nor did he want to sound like his slick, skirt-chasing brother, doling out compliments to any woman who crossed his path.
He cleared his throat. “You... You were going to explain your cryptic statement? About being me but not?”
“Right. While you want to step outside your comfort zone—”
“I do?” he asked wryly.
“Yes. It builds character.” Her smile was wide enough to show off her dimples, and he was glad to see her relaxed again, the unwanted tension between them dispelled. “You need clothes that aren’t your usual chambray button-downs or shirts with the Galloping C logo. But you don’t want to go so far outside your norm that you’re self-conscious. A man at ease is an attractive man.”
“What’s attractive?” Bailey interrupted.
“It means women will like him.”
“Oh, good!” Bailey clapped her hands together. “If a grown-up lady really, really likes him, I might get a new mommy like Suzie.”
Nick groaned, eager to change the subject. “Don’t you two have a merry-go-round to find?”
“We’re leaving,” Tess said, her expression apologetic.
Alone, he wandered farther down the tiled path that segmented accessories from appliances. A sharply dressed salesclerk in head-to-toe black appeared from nowhere, like a coyote who’d scented an injured calf.
“Can I interest you in our new signature fragrance?” Without waiting for an answer, she misted him with cologne.
Blehhh. He coughed, enveloped in a cloyingly sweet cloud. W
hat self-respecting man wanted to smell like this?
“Not for me,” he managed, lengthening his stride while she tried to convince him to buy the four-piece collection. Shower gel, deodorant and aftershave, all matching the cologne? In Nick’s opinion, if a man stunk bad enough to need four combined products to fix it, he should just live in seclusion and not inflict himself on folks.
He slowed once he found himself amid racks of clothes with no idea where to start.
“May I help you, sir?”
Turning warily, he checked to ensure that the auburn-haired woman wasn’t wielding a spray bottle. “Umm...”
Tess had encouraged him to be himself. What I am is a retail-averse cowboy with less than no interest in fashion and vague hopes of impressing a woman. Well, he could work with that.
“Lord, I hope so.” He gave her the most winning smile he could muster; she looked dazed for a second, then smiled back. “I’m not real sure what I’m doin’ and I’d love to get your opinion. I’d like to find something appropriate for, say, a first date with a special lady.”
“Oh.” The woman peered up at him from beneath her lashes. “Lucky girl.”
* * *
BY THE TIME NICK REJOINED Tess and Bailey, he had two new shirts, a pair of slacks and a grudging appreciation for the mall. Granted, it would never be his favorite place in the world, but the past hour hadn’t been nearly the painful experience he’d anticipated. Janette, the auburn-haired salesclerk, had been a huge help. Maybe the friendly smiles she’d showered on him and the way she batted her eyelashes were because she worked on commission, but she’d seemed genuinely drawn to him. Then there’d been the woman who stopped him on his way out to ask if he’d shrug into a jacket she was considering as a gift.
“For my brother,” she’d been quick to add. “Not a husband. I’m single.” She was trying to get an idea of fit and said he was tall like her brother.
Perspective was everything. As the shortest male in his family, Nick rarely viewed himself as tall. You are when you’re with Tess. At her height, she would only barely be able to rest her head against his shoulder. Not that she had any reason to do so, Nick reminded himself, blinking the image away.