by Cindi Madsen
“Done. Like, forever ago. It was so easy.” She tossed her tablet on the cushion next to her and came bounding over, her energy level at about a ten. “Did I tell you I got to shoot arrows today during play practice?”
Only one hundred times. “I bet you loved that.”
“Yeah, I did. Miss Monroe kept ’em coming, so I didn’t even have to retrieve them, just fire, fire, fire.”
The next few minutes were filled with talk of how much his daughter loved her teacher. And his hand automatically sought out his phone again. He had her number. Could be talking to her with a couple of taps.
It’s been days. When’s this compulsion going to go away?
If anything, the overwhelming urge to call and hear her voice supported his decision to put extra space between them. As did the conversation with Bailey Rae. She clearly adored Jemma, and attempting a relationship with her would mess with that dynamic. The first half of the year had been rough for his daughter, and she was finally back to her happy self.
She seemed to have her friends back too—a group of them had called to do their homework together.
He’d heard mention of a boy, but the conversation had grown too quiet for him to catch any more details.
Dang Dempsey talking about dating. He cursed me. Heaven help him if he had to already deal with boys. He’d wanted to go about another ten to twenty years before that happened.
Suddenly wanted to talk to Jemma about it. See if it was normal and that kind of thing. But more than anything, he just wanted to talk to her.
Even his earlier notion about the benefits of being the only adult around here no longer rang true.
Despite her earlier goal to forget about all things involving Wyatt Langford, Jemma’s heart still quickened at the knock on the door.
For two whole seconds before she realized the knock was down low, that slight metallic clink to it.
Instead of heading to the front door, she walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and dug out the extra bag of carrots she’d picked up when she’d bought more bundles of wood.
She walked back across the living room, basking in the heat from the roaring fire she’d built all by herself—thank you very much—and pulled on her coat.
Señor Fluffypants had figured out that a visit from Casper meant he’d also get a treat, so he was already by the door, eagerly awaiting the moment when she’d open it and he and his pony friend could chow down.
Jemma swung open the door and, sure enough, the white horse stood on the other side. He whinnied, and Jemma extended a long carrot. His loud crunch filled the air, and Señor Fluffypants pawed at her ankles.
Jemma squatted and gave him a baby carrot, popping one into her mouth as well, because she never did get enough vegetables.
Her bunny eyed the carrot as if he were disappointed before glancing up at the horse.
“Don’t get jealous and start wanting to bite off more than you can chew.” Jemma waved her arm toward the horse. “He’s, like, one hundred times bigger than you.”
Properly chastised, Señor Fluffypants bit into his carrot. They stood there, the cold filtering in and trying to beat away the warmth of the fire, the crunch of carrots filling the air.
Casper finished off his carrot, green stem and all, and then whinnied.
“Now you’re going and getting greedy on me. That’s it for tonight. Go home.” She made a shooing motion, gesturing in the direction of Wyatt’s house, and clucked her tongue.
The horse trotted off in that direction, just like he’d done on Sunday and Wednesday nights. The first night, she’d texted Wyatt to say she’d sent him on his way, but he hadn’t responded to that text, either.
Well, unless texting on Tuesday to say he’d cleaned out her chimney counted.
Still, she wanted an excuse to try again, so after she closed the door, she texted him to say that after having dinner with her and Señor Fluffypants, Casper was headed back home, probably for dessert.
As she walked back toward the couch and her laptop, she kept her eyes on her phone, silently chanting for him to reply.
Her shin slammed into something hard—the coffee table—and she hissed and hobbled over to the couch. She flopped down and rubbed the injury, as if that’d make the throbbing there go away.
Then, because she had issues, her gaze immediately returned to her phone.
No dots.
No one word or emoji reply.
Nothing.
After way too long spent staring at her own flummoxed reflection, she tossed her phone aside and grabbed her laptop so she could get back to her courses. She’d spent hours in her classroom catching up and completing as much of her assignments as she could. Eventually her eyes had reached the burning point, and her body had nearly attached itself to the fibers of her chair, so she’d decided to consider driving home her break, and then hit it again.
No more stopping until I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Just a few more months, and she’d finally have that degree. Once she was sure everything would go through, she’d immediately start applying for jobs in administration.
With any luck, focusing on that would also help with thoughts of frustrating guys and how complicated they were to read.
Chapter Thirteen
This was a disaster.
Or Wyatt supposed it was going to be a disaster, since the madness hadn’t even started yet. Why had he thought he could host a birthday party, much less be responsible for the entertainment of a group of tween girls?
It was what Bailey Rae had wanted, though, and Lori had said she could help. Only, last night she’d called to say that after a few days of the boys being sick, she’d gotten sick.
Which meant he was on his own today.
And he didn’t have cupcakes or a way to entertain Bailey Rae and her friends, since Lori was supposed to have done most of that too. It’d been so late when he’d found out, and he’d been so tired that he’d decided he’d figure it out in the morning.
But now, thanks to feeding the cows, taking care of the frozen water trough, and a surprise newborn calf, it was almost noon, and he still didn’t know how to fix the situation.
Havenly Brew didn’t make cupcakes, and what accounted for a local grocery store was more like a convenience store. A tiny convenience store that rarely was convenient, because whenever you went into Jack’s Market, you ran into everyone and had to have multiple drawn-out conversations about the weather, how every person in your family was doing, all while trying to track down a loaf of bread that was probably a minute or two away from expiring.
No bakery section, no premade cupcakes.
Just bread and bagels, along with a disproportionate amount of fishing gear, and he was pretty sure that even with frosting, bagels would make for the most pitiful birthday dessert ever.
Which was why most people drove forty-five minutes to the grocery store the next town over once a month or so to stock up on the items Jack’s Market didn’t have.
Wyatt quickly calculated how long it’d take him to get there and back, and supposing he sped and got lucky enough not to get pulled over, he’d still be rushing through the door as kids were arriving, nothing else prepared.
Maybe Lainey Townsend or her grandma could help me out. They lived in the house about a mile down the road, where they had a tiny petting zoo with animals of about every kind, including a few roving goats and llamas.
A couple of times through the years, they’d watched Bailes when he’d had something last minute, and they’d occasionally shown up with casseroles and pies, so they definitely knew how to bake. But he already felt like he’d never be able to repay them for all they’d already done.
Not to mention Judith had been having some health problems this winter and Lainey was busy juggling that and taking care of the animals, which left him crossing that
option off the list. If anything, he should send his daughter over there more to help out with the animals. It’d help them, plus Bailey Rae loved taking care of those animals way more than the ones on the ranch.
An idea popped into his head, one he shouldn’t entertain, but the amount of relief that hit him made it impossible to bat away. Possibly because he’d been strong for an entire week, and he couldn’t fight it any longer.
Add in that he’d do whatever it took to ensure Bailey Rae had a good birthday, and his mind was made up.
He pulled out his phone, tapped Jemma’s number, and listened to it ring and ring. It’d serve him right if she ignored him after he’d cut off communication for the most part.
“Hello?” Her voice calmed him even as it made the blood in his veins pound that much harder and faster.
“You know how you’re always having disasters and I rush to help?”
She made an offended noise in the back of her throat. “I wouldn’t call them ‘disasters,’ but sure. You’ve helped me out of a few binds, I’ll give you that.”
“Well, I have a disaster on my hands. We’re talking Level Ten, more important than anything else in the world.” Now he was using his daughter’s flair for the extreme. “There are a dozen girls coming over for a birthday party and my sister was supposed to help chaperone and make the cupcakes, but she’s sick.”
He shoved away his pride. “Help. Please.”
“When do you need me?” Jemma asked without missing a beat.
That was a loaded question, one he was only going to apply to this situation. “How soon can you get here?”
Jemma sucked in a deep, fortifying breath before lifting her fist and knocking on the door. She’d almost let Wyatt’s call go to voicemail, but curiosity had gotten the best of her. She was glad too, because she wanted to ensure Bailey had a good birthday, in spite of wishing it didn’t take a disaster for her neighbor to pick up the phone and give her a ring.
The door swung open, and Wyatt stood on the other side, his sandy-colored hair sticking up in all directions, as if he’d spent a lot of the day raking his hands through it. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here. Bailey Rae was asking about the cupcakes, and I was trying to stall to keep her from finding out that her dad had no idea what he’s doing. So I told her I didn’t want to ruin the surprise and dropped her off at the Townsends to help feed the animals.”
His long fingers circled her wrist and he tugged her inside. “I really don’t want the surprise to be that the party is a bust.”
Jemma’s skin hummed at the contact, and when she went to scoot out of the way of the door at the same time Wyatt reached around her to close it, her body bumped into his.
He put his hands up on her hips to steady her, and her lungs forgot how to take in oxygen.
Their eyes met and held for a beat, and she could feel her cheeks warming.
He cleared his throat and took a step back, his arms dropping down to his sides. “Hi. I probably should’ve started with that.”
A flutter worked its way through her body, starting low in her gut and moving up over her heart. “Hi.”
“You look nice.” His gaze drifted down to take in her bright-pink top and jeans, and a smile tugged his lips when he reached her pink shoes with the glittery bow.
The shoes made her happy, but now she fought the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. “Thanks. You look…stressed.”
He barked a laugh, and she threw her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean…well, I did, but it sort of popped out.”
“No use covering up the truth. I did tell you I was having a disaster, didn’t I?”
She nodded. “Yes. You made sure to point out that I had a whole lot of disasters first, of course.”
“It’s my subtle charm—so subtle, you have to search through the fumbling foot-in-mouth moments.”
She laughed, sort of wishing his charm was subtler so she wouldn’t notice it so much. Then again, the first two times they’d interacted, she’d been sure he was barely civilized. Now she knew too much about how good of a dad he was, that he was kind to his animals, and how he tried to hide his laugh during girly movies, although he never did quite succeed.
Speaking of disaster, the bags of flour on the kitchen counter caught her eye, and she did a double take at the kitchen. Cupboards were flung open and random ingredients were scattered around the room, as if there’d recently been a home invasion.
“Yeah. I’m wondering where to even start.” He raised his eyebrows at her expectantly. “So?”
She was onboard with helping, but admittedly short on experience. Individual birthday parties weren’t quite like big class parties, where parents signed up to bring treats. “I’d say start by calling the bakery.”
His face fell. “You don’t know how to bake?”
Her jaw automatically clenched as she tried not to take offense to the incredulous way he’d said it, and he quickly revised it to, “What I meant to say is that the nearest bakery is the next town over, and the girls will be here in a little over an hour. Plus, Bailey’s so set on a rainbow theme.”
“I’m sure we can figure out how to make cupcakes. I just might need some help. And a cake mix—please tell me you have one, because those bags of flour are scaring me.”
He grimaced. “I do at least have some frosting, since Bailey Rae and I both have a habit of eating it by the spoonful. She also stocks up on sprinkles like they’re going out of style, so I’ve got those as well.”
“Okay, I’ll find a recipe online.” She made sure to add “simple” to her search, and before long she’d found a chocolate cupcake recipe that had amazing reviews. She called out the ingredients, and within a couple of minutes, they were lined up before them, but Wyatt didn’t appear to be any calmer.
She set her hand on his forearm and experienced that snap of electricity, the one that had her wanting to touch him way more than she should. This wasn’t about her, though—it was about assuring him and keeping him from panicking. “We’ve got this.”
“What about the decorating?”
“That’s the easy part.”
He furrowed his brow, the doubt clear.
She nudged him aside with her hip so she could stand directly in front of the mixing bowl. “I might not know much about baking, but I use glue and glitter on a regular basis at school—decorating’s my wheelhouse.”
“Great,” he said, flashing her a smile. “I’m gonna get a rep as the guy who threw a glue-eating party.”
She gave him a gentle shove, and dang, his biceps were rather solid. “It’s an example, but if you don’t behave, I might use actual glue on your cupcake.”
His jaw dropped, and he threw a hand to his chest as if she’d deeply insulted him.
Jemma gave a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t worry, nowadays glue is non-toxic.”
“Man, they really take all the fun out of things these days.”
A giggle slipped out, and she worried she was accidentally flirting with the guy she’d told herself she was going to stop crushing on. If only he didn’t make it so hard to ignore her attraction. Not just the chemistry that sparked and ignited every time she was near him, but how she smiled more, and how they joked back and forth so easily, almost as if it was second nature.
They moved around the kitchen, going between mixing and filling cupcake tins. The temperature rose with all the baking, and it rose more every time Wyatt put his hands on her hips to temporarily move her out of the way. Or when she brushed past him and got a whiff of his cologne mixed with a hint of citrus, sweet grass, and hay.
The timer pinged, and Jemma pulled the cupcakes out of the oven—they’d dipped in the middle instead of being nice and round on top, but she figured they could fix that with extra frosting, and who didn’t like extra frosting?
While the cupcakes were cooling, she divided the two cont
ainers of frosting into three bowls, and soon they had pink, blue, and purple frosting. She formed a makeshift decorating bag out of a sandwich bag by cutting off the bottom right corner.
Wyatt poked his head over her shoulder as she swirled the pink, blue, and purple mixture on top of the cupcakes.
“The one thing I know about glitter is that there’s never too much. I’m guessing that also applies to sprinkles.” She poured on a bunch, twisting the container so there were pink hearts and cool colorful rainbow shapes, along with purple crystals.
After she’d decorated the first dozen, she extended the bag of frosting toward Wyatt. “Here, you try decorating one.”
“Oh, I don’t know if—”
She thrust the bag into his hands and moved aside. “Just squeeze from the top and twist the cupcake as you go.”
Wyatt grabbed the bag right in the middle and squeezed with all his might, sending frosting out both ends. A glob dropped onto his forearm and pants, and he gave her an accusing look as she burst into laughter.
“Okay, I guess we need to talk about finesse. You don’t have to use all your strength for frosting.”
“So you’re saying I’m strong?”
She snort-laughed, and he swiped his frosting-coated forearm across her side.
“Ah!” She moved to get him back, but he was using that dang strength to keep her at arm’s length. Since she couldn’t get to him, she wiped at the frosting and popped the glob on the tip of her finger into her mouth. “Mmm. This is super yummy.”
Wyatt took his own taste. They stood there grinning at each other, snapping out of the trance when Bailey waltzed in through the front door. “I’m hom— Ooh, can I help decorate cupcakes?”
“Of course,” Jemma said. “I need someone with an artistic eye.”
Bailey carefully frosted two cupcakes, and Jemma couldn’t help adding, “Much better than your dad. He’s a lost cause when it comes to decorating—he uses too much strength and not enough sprinkles.”
The next thing she knew, a handful of sprinkles were tossed at her head.