by Deb Kastner
Johnny hesitated, then nodded.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Wyatt hadn’t really expected Johnny to go for it. Now he was in a fix, but he could hardly back out now that he’d stuck his foot in his mouth. He ran a hand across his jaw. “All right, then. Let’s do it.”
He shook Johnny’s hand to seal the deal and watched as the teen crossed the room toward his crush.
Smooth move, Harrow.
Now what was he going to do? What was Carolina going to think when he approached her with this crazy scheme? But there was no point lingering. He had to ask, even if she laughed him out of the building.
He took a deep breath and headed toward Carolina, reminding himself that this was no more difficult than what he’d just asked Johnny to do. When he reached Carolina’s side, he held out his hand to her.
“Help a guy out here, huh?”
He meant Johnny, of course, and he glanced over his shoulder to see how the boy was doing. Johnny was standing right next to Cassie, his hands shyly jammed into the front pockets of his oversized jeans. He and Cassie weren’t yet headed for the dance floor, but at least she’d apparently welcomed him into the conversation with her friends.
Could be worse.
Like standing here with his arm extended when there was zero response from the woman he’d just asked to dance.
Not a positive response, at any rate. Carolina was staring at his hand as if he were holding a big, hairy spider on his palm.
She gradually met his gaze and raised an eyebrow.
“What?” he muttered.
“I think that should be my question.”
“It’s a simple yes or no.”
“To?”
He huffed out a breath. She knew how difficult this was for him and she was going to make him ask her twice. She was enjoying this way too much, if the amused gleam in her eye was anything to go by.
“Dance. Do you want to dance with me, or not?”
“Dance? You want to dance? With me?” Her expression was so full of astonishment he would almost think she hadn’t known that was what he had been asking her all along.
“Yes, with you. What else did you think I would be asking you?”
“I can’t imagine. But you don’t dance.”
“No. I don’t. But I’m making an exception just this once, for a good cause.”
The lights in the fellowship hall had been turned off, replaced by the glow of several party lamps that sent soft, swirling balls of muted color—green, blue and red—swirling around the room. It was difficult for Wyatt to tell for certain, but he was fairly positive her color heightened when she placed her hand in his.
It felt right, though, somehow, when he closed his hand over hers and led her out to the dance floor, and even more when he turned and took her into his arms. Their eyes met and locked and his breath hitched in his throat.
All of a sudden, he forgot all about Johnny and the initial reason he had asked her to dance. The people around them faded away and his pulse echoed to the slow, steady beat of the music.
Her hand slid from his shoulder to his chest until her palm covered his heart. The warmth in her eyes spread through him like honey.
His gaze dropped to her full lips, which were tinted with a sparkling red gloss that perfectly matched her blouse.
She was wearing red.
Well, of course she was. Half the women in the room were wearing red. It was Valentine’s Day, after all, so it wasn’t a huge stretch that she’d decided to wear that color.
But was it possible she’d received a note from the mystery matchmakers similar to the one that had shown up at his door?
Was she sending him a message?
“You’re wearing red,” he murmured, bending his head so he could whisper into her ear. His lips were close enough that he thought she might be able to feel him smile.
She pushed against him.
Hard.
What?
Confusion spun through him.
He leaned back enough to put space between them, but he didn’t release her from his arms.
“People are watching us,” she hissed in a low, scratchy voice.
He’d been so caught up in the moment that he’d completely forgotten there were people around them who could be watching.
He blinked, his head still fuzzy.
She was right. Whatever had been about to happen between them shouldn’t be happening. This wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had, particularly not in public.
But then again, he really hadn’t been thinking at all.
He furtively glanced around them and was relieved to find no one was paying particular attention to them—no one except Johnny, who still stood in the midst of the group of girls. The teenager was staring right at them and grinning like a blooming madman.
Wyatt couldn’t fathom why, but his being with Carolina seemed particularly important to Johnny.
Wait a minute. He was only out here on the dance floor with Carolina in the first place for Johnny’s sake—or at least, that was his excuse, and he was going to stick with it.
Johnny, on the other hand, wasn’t keeping his end of the bargain.
Wyatt mock frowned and nodded his head toward Cassie. Johnny looked down, clearly gathering his courage, and then tapped Cassie on the shoulder and gestured toward the dance floor.
There was a long moment when Cassie hesitated and Wyatt held his breath. If she blew Johnny off, then Wyatt would be responsible for getting his hopes up, only to see them dashed upon the ragged rocks of reality, as had happened to Wyatt. The last thing Johnny needed was another reason for him to doubt himself.
Cassie said something to the group of girls and then put her arm around Johnny’s waist and smiled up at him.
Wyatt let out the breath he’d been holding in an audible whoosh of air. Relief flooded through him.
Carolina followed the direction of his gaze.
“It looks like Johnny’s having fun. Is that his girlfriend?”
“Not yet.” He smiled down at her. “But he’d like her to be.”
“It looks like he’s getting a good start, then. They are a cute couple.”
“Yeah. They are. I think Johnny is still really nervous though. He’s stumbling over his feet. I hope he can relax enough to enjoy his dance.”
“Why aren’t you?”
“Enjoying the dance?”
Oh, but he was. Too much, in fact.
“Stumbling over your feet. I thought you said you don’t dance.”
“I said I don’t dance. Not that I can’t dance. Gran made me take lessons when I was a kid. Ballroom dancing.” He cringed at the memory.
“Well, the lessons paid off. You should give your gran an extra hug next time you see her.”
The gap between them lessened as a new song started and their eyes once again met and held.
“You mentioned the fact that I am wearing red,” she said thoughtfully.
He shrugged, not wanting to get into the whole mystery matchmaker thing if he had been the only one to receive a letter from them.
“Yeah, well, I guess that’s no big surprise, is it, seeing as it’s Valentine’s Day and all. R-red is a good color on you, by the way.”
Oh, brother. He was starting to stutter as badly as Johnny. And he was feeling just a little bit weak in the knees.
“Thank you.” She smiled sweetly, then paused and pursed her lips. “But I have to be honest. The red blouse wasn’t entirely my idea.”
He immediately froze on the spot, a chill skittering down his spine.
She shook her head. “I got a letter—ostensibly signed by you—suggesting I should meet you here at the ice cream social wearing red, as a beacon or something.”
&
nbsp; “It wasn’t from me,” he felt obligated to point out, although his heart warmed with hope.
Despite, or because of, the letter, she had worn red. Was she trying to tell him there might be a chance for them? That maybe—it would take a lot of work and forgiveness on both of their parts—but maybe they could eventually be a real family together?
Wyatt, Carolina and Matty?
That notion didn’t seem quite as far off as it once had been.
“No. I know it wasn’t from you,” she hastened to add. “Katie told me all about the mystery matchmakers and how they are trying to set up couples all over town.”
“They’re fairly accurate, too.”
She chuckled. “So I hear. Anyway, I would have figured it out myself even without Katie’s explanation. The note was presumably signed by you, but the script was too juvenile. Even after all these years, I would recognize your handwriting if I saw it. Besides, I knew you wouldn’t be asking me to a Valentine’s anything.”
Well, she was right about that. He wouldn’t have asked her out.
Would he?
Holding her close in his arms now, swaying gently to the music, he wasn’t so sure.
“And yet you wore red. Weren’t you afraid you’d be encouraging the little rascals? Or worse yet, me?” He grinned like a hyena.
“It is the only blouse I own that fits the theme.”
“Lady in Red.” He nodded in appreciation, his chest filling with emotion.
“Anyway, my outfit won’t set nearly as many tongues wagging as people seeing you and me out on the dance floor together.”
“True.”
“And yet, here we are.”
He arched his eyebrows and grinned even wider. “Yes, we are.”
“I’m glad.”
The warmth in her eyes was too much for him. He looked away.
Johnny and Cassie were dancing nearby, and the boy was beaming with delight. Wyatt didn’t envy Johnny his teenage awkwardness and angst, but he remembered what dancing with his first crush felt like.
That memory didn’t hold a candle to dancing with his first and only true love.
“Yeah. I’m glad, too,” he said through a dry throat. “Just look at them. They can’t get enough of each other.”
Carolina stopped dancing. “Them?”
She turned, following his gaze.
“Johnny?” Her voice sounded stilted, somehow, as if her feelings were hurt. “Oh. I get it.”
She whirled on him but didn’t step back into his embrace. He felt the emptiness both in his arms and in his heart.
“You are doing this because of Johnny.” Her tone and her eyes dared him to deny it.
For a moment, he considered doing just that. He was confused. Why should that matter?
But if he told her anything less than the whole truth, she would know he was lying. He’d never been good at hiding anything from her.
“Well, yes. I told Johnny I would ask you to dance if he would ask Cassie but—”
“Right. I—I should have known. I—” She paused and pressed her palms down her long, flowing black skirt. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go check on Matty.”
He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure he could have said anything if he’d tried. All he could do was watch her walk away from him, knowing he wouldn’t be seeing her again any time soon.
Why couldn’t he learn when to shut up? For once, things had been going well between them, and he had opened his mouth and blown it. Now, who knew what it would take for him to get back in Carolina’s good graces?
He didn’t have a clue how to fix this, but somehow it had to be done. His relationship with Matty depended on it.
But if he was being honest, it was more than that.
Much more.
* * *
Carolina seriously considered not going to work on Monday, but thankfully Wyatt never came around the office. She didn’t know whether it was because of what had happened between them at the Valentine’s social or whether he just had a heavy docket of ranch calls, but either way, she was grateful for the temporary reprieve.
But when he didn’t show up on Tuesday morning, she started to wonder. And worry. She might not quite be ready to face him yet, but she was just going to have to get over herself and prepare for the eventuality of being around Wyatt without it sending her into a dither every single time.
Wyatt was now a part of Matty’s life. The mature, responsible thing for Carolina to do would be to seek Wyatt out and speak to him about what had happened between them at the Valentine’s social, adult to adult, and clear the air about it so they could move on.
Right this second she was really tired of adulting.
She wanted to go hide in her room like a brokenhearted teenager.
Brokenhearted?
Where had that come from? That was impossible. She would have to be in love with Wyatt in order for him to break her heart, and she’d left that emotion behind long ago. She wasn’t even certain she had a heart to break anymore.
So maybe not a broken heart, then. But she was certainly feeling something almost as uncomfortable. Not being able to define her feelings was not helping matters any.
Despite her best efforts, she’d grown to care about Wyatt. How could she not? They were forever connected through Matty. Watching Wyatt parent their child gave a new meaning to the word love, one that she could accept and embrace. There was nothing in the world like the bonding that occurred between a man and his son.
Carolina fumbled for the phone on her desk and picked up the receiver, punching in Wyatt’s cell phone number before she could talk herself out of it again.
He picked up on the first ring.
“We need to talk,” she said without preamble.
Silence met her on the other end of the line.
“Wyatt?”
Had he hung up on her?
“Yeah. Okay. You’re right.” She heard him draw in a ragged breath. “I’m heading your direction. The farrier is meeting me at my stable to trim some of the horses’ hooves, and one threw a shoe the other day. If I leave now, we should have a few minutes to talk before he gets there.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for your truck and meet you at the stable.”
“You’ll have Matty with you?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Great. I thought he might like to watch Nick work on the horses.”
“I’m sure he will be fascinated by it. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
She hung up the phone and sighed deeply.
There. That wasn’t so bad.
“Come on, Matty,” she said, scooping him out of the play yard she had set up for him. “Let’s go see your—”
Daddy.
Her gut tightened.
It was time.
And it was the right thing to do.
If they told Matty the truth now, the toddler would most likely never remember there had been a time when Wyatt wasn’t a part of his life—though however large or small a part that ended up being was still up in the air.
Instead of waiting in the office for Wyatt to arrive at the ranch, Carolina took Matty to the stable and let him pet some of the horses, moving down the lane stall by stall. She inhaled the reassuring pungency of hay, horses and something else, an unidentifiable scent that was somehow unique to Wyatt’s stable. It was probably the country girl in her, but for some reason the blend of scents soothed her.
It felt like home.
The names of each of Wyatt’s horses were engraved on a wooden plaque on every stall door, and Carolina introduced her son to each horse by name.
Bash the Appaloosa, Cricket the palomino, and a beautiful paint named Chief.
When they reached the end
of the row, Carolina grabbed a couple of apples from a nearby bushel and they started back the way they’d come. The stalls on the opposite side were filled with various animals Wyatt was vetting and keeping for observation. In one stall they found a sow and some cute little piglets. In another, a curious llama. And in a third, a couple of bleating goats.
“Goats!” Matty announced.
“That’s right, buddy.”
They paused by a pretty black mare and Matty giggled in delight as Carolina showed him how to feed the horse an apple. Even Carolina chuckled as the mare crunched on the sweet fruit, smacking her lips and showing her teeth as juice ran down her muzzle. When the mare was done, she nudged Matty’s outstretched hand, looking for another treat.
“I see you found Juliet,” Wyatt said as he entered the barn. “She is one of the boys ranch horses. She pulled a ligament in her leg, so I’ve been keeping her here for a couple of weeks to monitor her progress and do some physical therapy with her.”
Carolina’s eyes met Wyatt’s, and a long, awkward pause followed as Carolina struggled to find the right words to express the emotions she was feeling.
Wyatt held out his arms to Matty and the toddler launched himself at his daddy, his high, youthful laugh blending with Wyatt’s deeper one.
Wyatt opened the stall door and stepped inside, plunking their son onto the back of the horse.
“There you go, cowboy.”
A surge of anxiety flooded through Carolina. The black was a large draft horse, and a fall would be disastrous.
“Is that safe?”
Wyatt’s gaze widened on her as if she’d just said something completely outrageous—which, she guessed in hindsight, she had. She was no stranger to country living. Most of the folks who’d grown up in Haven had been riding almost as long as they’d been walking. And the draft appeared gentle.
Besides, it wasn’t as if Wyatt had placed Matty on the tall mount and then walked away. Wyatt’s hand was still spanning Matty’s waist and the toddler had his fist tightly threaded through the mare’s thick mane.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “I’m being a helicopter mom again. It’s a bad habit of mine.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”