Country Hearts

by Cindi Madsen

  “Where were we?” He quickly searched his memory. “Something about you not planning on the detour here.”

  “Right. Mostly because I didn’t know ‘here’ existed.” She nudged him over and switched places with him, taking over the rinsing and handing him the dishes. “There were layoffs at my old school. It was hard for me to accept that I was fired simply because I was the last hired.

  “Not that I wouldn’t feel horrible if someone else got laid off,” she continued, “but I threw my entire self into teaching while watching a few of my coworkers phone it in. They were probably burned out, but they sprinted out the door with the kids, never planned lessons in advance, and had no control of the classroom.

  “One guy, I heard him yelling disparaging things at a kid and…” She clenched the glass in her hand so tightly he worried it’d break, and he gently peeled her fingers away from it. “Anyway, it reaffirmed my decision to get my Masters. But I needed a job and found the online posting for the position at the elementary school. After talking to Camilla over the phone, I felt really good about it.

  “Then I saw there was an adorable cottage for rent, and it seemed like fate had finally shined down on me. I needed an adventure, and Haven Lake was offering me one.”

  “Then you got here and changed your mind?” He’d probably asked it too tightly, the answer mattering way too much to him.

  She placed her hand on his forearm, her fingers soapy and wet, and still her touch caused his breath to lodge in his throat. “Not at all. Loneliness got the best of me my first week—as did the snowy roads, as you saw. But now I’m so happy I took a chance and got to meet the people here, even if it’s only for a little while.”

  A fond smile touched her lips. “Everyone’s been so nice, and I hardly have to discipline the students, which always makes my job easier. Not to mention it means happier students and parents, and happier me.”

  Her thumb dragged across his skin, and every nerve ending in his body pricked up. “I like spending time with you and Bailey—that makes me happy too.”

  So much to dissect in that statement. It sent warmth rushing through him, and yet he wondered how she felt about him.

  Which was crazy, considering he’d pretty much given up on dating, thinking he was too busy and that most women wouldn’t want to deal with the fact that he already had a kid anyway. They were a packaged deal, and even if Jemma only cared about Bailey, he’d understand. She was definitely the sweeter, fun one.

  But that “even if it’s only for a little while” made him hesitate to make a move. To ask her out.

  “I’m all ready for bed,” Bailey Rae said. “And before you ask, I used the timer on my toothbrush, so yes, I brushed really, really good.”

  Jemma smiled at him and slowly dropped her hand. His skin tingled where her fingers had been, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever fully catch his breath around the woman.

  “Would it be okay for Jemma to tuck me in?” His daughter fiddled with the hem of her unicorn pajama shirt. “I know I’m a little too old, especially now that I’m officially nine, but it always makes it easier to say goodbye to the day and fall right asleep.”

  Jemma’s eyes met his and she gave a slight nod, indicating she was willing. Judging from the affection that danced in her eyes, she was more than willing—she wanted it as much as Bailey Rae did.

  So he affected a begrudging posture and tone, and said, “Oh, sure, I’ll just finish the dishes while you gals keep the party going.” He broke, unable to hold the grumpiness, and the two of them giggled before heading down the hallway together.

  Bailey’s room perfectly reflected her personality, with bright colors, pink fairy lights, and every type of horse picture on the wall, from realistic to cartooned winged ones with horns.

  Bailey picked a book off the shelf, one about a girl who discovered a unicorn, naturally. “I read two whole chapters every night. Usually before Dad comes in to say goodnight, but I wanted to show my book to you. It’s got this girl named Phoebe who finds a unicorn. The unicorn is really vain, but in a funny way.”

  The two of them alternated pages until they’d reached her goal, and then Jemma slipped the bookmark inside the pages and tucked Bailey into her very pink bed.

  She brushed a hand over the girl’s head, resisting the urge to kiss her forehead since she still was her student and she didn’t want to cross lines. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” Bailey said. Jemma was halfway across the room, her fingers on the light switch, when Bailey added, “Dad smiles a lot more when you’re here.”

  Jemma’s heart clenched in a tight knot, constricting further with each attempted beat. Hope pulsed through her, tempting her to give in to the notion that it meant Wyatt was crushing right back.

  She flicked off the light and then walked down the hall.

  Wyatt stood in the center of the kitchen, his back to her. He started the dishwasher, wiped his hands on the towel hanging on the handle of the oven, and turned to face her.

  Yearning, attraction, and fear clashed, twisting up her emotions.

  What was she doing, playing house and getting so attached? But how could she just shut down her feelings when they were stronger than they’d ever been? She wasn’t sure she could, and she didn’t want to brush them aside like they didn’t matter.

  She cleared her too-tight throat. “You have an incredible daughter. The girl radiates joy and kindness.”

  “I got lucky with her for sure. I’ve been meaning to thank you for talking to her about her teeth the other day. I tried, but it’s not the same coming from me.”

  That meant he’d probably heard her talking about her ears, and while she’d gotten over the notion that they were too big long ago, the tips of them burned.

  “It’s crazy to me that gals like you and Bailey Rae wouldn’t realize how beautiful they are.”

  Jemma nearly melted to the floor at the compliment, a puddle of a girl who really liked a boy. Maybe she should take a page from her students and give him a note that said, “Do you like me? Check yes or no.”

  Talk about awkward. While she was thinking about that, how hard would it be if she started dating Wyatt and things went badly? What if they broke up? Then she’d never be able to come over and enjoy dinner with him and Bailey.

  Bailey. I need to think about Bailey’s feelings.

  Every day at school would be harder for her. Harder for Jemma, too.

  One thing was for sure, she couldn’t afford to make brash decisions. She needed to think—more than likely, she’d end up overthinking—but at least her brain would still have a chance to overrule her extremely sentimental heart.

  She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “I should go. I have some classwork to take care of.”

  Wyatt simply nodded.

  “Thanks again for dinner. See you on Saturday for set building?”

  Her heart thumped faster as he strode toward her. “I’ll walk you out.”

  Of course. He wasn’t charging over to kiss her. It was just his gentlemanly sense of duty. She grabbed her coat and zipped it all the way up.

  The snow crunched under their feet as they made their way to her car, and instead of opening the door for her, he turned to face her. Moments ago, she was reminding herself to be careful, to think of the possible awkwardness and avoid making impulse decisions.

  But now their breaths were coming out in white puffs that mingled in the air between them and he was peering down at her, and all her reasons to not follow her heart faded to the background.

  Wyatt tipped up his head. “The stars are extra bright tonight.”

  She lifted her gaze to the inky, diamond-studded sky. Without the city lights and smog to obscure them, the stars were so much clearer out here, the milky way in full view. “Well, you know how much I like glitter.”

  His smile kicked up a swarm of butterflies
that definitely didn’t care about making sensible decisions. “That’s why I instructed them to shine brighter tonight. Just for you.”

  “And because of all that impressive strength of yours, they listened?”

  The wattage on his grin turned up a notch. “I’m glad you’re no longer insisting my muscles are just perfectly sufficient.”

  Standing so close to him, his big body blocking the wind and sending a shock of awareness through her, there was no use denying that he was impressive. Not only strength-wise and in handsomeness, but also at making her feel safe, happy, and cared for.

  Another thing she couldn’t deny—she was a heartbeat away from falling for Wyatt Langford.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The squeak of sneakers on the shiny wooden floor greeted Jemma first. As she stepped farther into the gym, several familiar faces grinned, and a handful of people waved.

  This was just what she needed to keep her mind off Wyatt Langford.

  Not that it would prevent her from thinking about him at all, obviously. But the basketball game meant she could throw herself into cheering and talking to other people. That way, she wouldn’t end up texting Wyatt and inviting herself over to his house.

  She’d see him tomorrow, and that’d have to be soon enough, because anything more might land her in heart trouble.

  Tonight, she’d cheer and hang out with a woman who’d become a close friend. Tomorrow morning, she’d worry about fortifying herself to see the guy she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about. She’d accidentally gone and fallen the tiniest bit, but it was a short fall, one she could pop back up to her feet and recover from.

  Any more, and…

  It’s too dangerous. I don’t want to crush and burn again.

  Having all the parents and students around to build the props would help prevent her from getting caught up in his handsome face, the crinkles that formed around his eyes when he smiled, the way his corded forearms and coarse hair had felt underneath her fingertips…

  A pleasant shiver worked its way up her spine. I’m doing a bang-up job not thinking about him.

  Finally, she regained her focus and spotted a waving Camilla in the crowd.

  Jemma started up the bleachers, taking careful steps, since she’d worn her black-and-silver Mary Jane heels. As she’d been getting ready at the cottage, she’d eyed her sneakers, but they didn’t match the floral navy top she had on. White and navy were also the school colors, and wasn’t that more important than being able to easily bound up bleachers?

  People called out greetings as she passed, and Dorothy Hembolt caught her hand and stopped her. “Jemma, dear, have you met Christopher Foster?”

  Jemma searched her brain for the face that went to a name she couldn’t recall. Dorothy tapped the guy seated in front of her on the shoulder, and he glanced back at the two of them. He was midthirties-ish, had dark hair, and was wearing a polo shirt and khaki pants.

  In a lot of ways, he looked like Simon and the kind of guy she used to think of as her type.

  “Christopher, you simply have to meet our new teacher. Miss Jemma Monroe.” There was no missing the emphasis on how unmarried she was, but not one to leave things to chance, Dorothy added, “She’s single just like you. And isn’t she pretty?”

  Christopher beamed up at her. “Nice to—”

  “I don’t think she’s single,” the guy to Jemma’s left said, and she quickly tried to place him. He looked vaguely familiar, but not familiar enough to be updating people on her dating life. “I heard the ladies at the coffee shop say something about her and Wyatt Langford being an item.”

  Jemma’s jaw dropped. She also realized why the guy looked familiar—Tyrone Willis ran Willis Wheels and Mechanic Shop on Main Street and often popped into Havenly Brew for a pastry and a drink.

  “Oh,” Dorothy said, so much excitement in one tiny word. “I had no idea.”

  Before Jemma could say neither did she, and clarify that it wasn’t true, the music teacher gave Christopher a consoling pat. “Sorry. Sounds like you’re too late.”

  Her face felt too hot, and her mouth was definitely too dry. “Oh, you’re not too… I mean, I’m not…” How to explain this? Although, why should she have to? Evidently, she was going to have a talk with April and those women who sat in the shop all day, adding their theories to the grapevine.

  Camilla stepped down the bleachers and grabbed her hand. “Jemma, so glad you could make it.” She flashed a bureaucratic smile. “If you’ll excuse us, she and I made plans to watch the game together, and it’s almost to start.”

  Wyatt stood just inside the entrance to the gym, scanning the bleachers, same way he’d been doing a moment ago, before he’d witnessed something that’d made every muscle in his body clench. He slowly exhaled through his nose, telling himself to breathe. To act like it didn’t bother him that Chris Foster had grinned up at Jemma with what Bailey Rae called “heart eyes.”

  Was the entire town trying to set Jemma up with that guy?

  Why not me?

  The notion popped into his head before he could stop it. Never before had he wanted to have anything to do with the townsfolk’s matchmaking tendencies, but Jemma hadn’t been the woman in that equation before.

  At least Camilla Alvarez had saved her—Jemma had looked completely overwhelmed by all the attention.

  Which meant maybe she didn’t agree with their matchmaking efforts, either, and that made him renew his steps. Bailey Rae was at a friend’s house. After he’d dropped her off, he’d driven by the school and seen all the cars and had thought about how long it’d been since he’d gone to a basketball game.

  Way too long.

  In theory, it was supposed to occupy his mind with something besides Jemma, so he wouldn’t call and invite her over again.

  She’s going to leave. Soon.

  How many more signs did he need?

  Then again, he could either sit away from her and hurt his neck because he was constantly straining to see her, or he could take some initiative and sit by whom he wanted to.

  As he charged up the aisle Jemma had been standing in moments ago, the people who’d been talking to her gave him funny looks. It was more than the usual double-takes over the fact that he’d left his ranch and still existed. There was almost a weird smugness to them, as if they were in on a secret. Clearly he was supposed to know the secret, but he didn’t have a clue what it was, and when it came to whatever crazy scheme the townsfolk had going on, he’d probably rather not know.

  Jemma did the double-take he’d expected from the other people, and her lips parted a few inches as she gazed up at him from her seated position.

  He gestured to the open space next to her. “Mind if I join you guys? Bailey Rae’s at a friend’s house, and with her occupied elsewhere, I was wondering who was going to talk my ear off all game.”

  One of Jemma’s eyebrows arched higher than the other. “And you chose me?”

  He sat down next to her. I’ll choose you every time, he thought but managed to keep inside. “You’re chattier than most.”

  She gave him a sort of half frown, half pout. “Hey. Admittedly it’s not the first time someone’s told me that, but usually it sends most people running away, not toward me.”

  “They’re clearly missing out,” he said, and the pout morphed into a beautiful smile, one that had his pulse skidding.

  Camilla leaned around Jemma and nodded. “Hey, Wyatt. Glad you could join us.” There was an extra sparkle in her eye, a self-satisfied lilt to the words.

  Apparently, she was in on the same secret everyone else was.

  He glanced away and noticed heads of the people surrounding them jerking back to face the gym floor. Not very subtle.

  Looks like they’ve all paired us up. Guess that was to be expected.

  If it wasn’t also complicated, he’d be all
for it.

  The starters were announced and rushed to the center of the court, and then the crowd was focused on the players and the game that was about to begin.

  Jemma raised her voice over the din. “I can’t believe how full these bleachers are. I went to a couple of games in high school, and they only ever pulled out one side of bleachers—and they were sparse.”

  “Here the entire town gets in on it,” Camilla said. “See the pictures along the far wall? Those are the teams who won state championships.” She glanced at Wyatt. “See the second-to-last one? The guy in the middle?”

  Wyatt shook his head as Jemma squinted at the picture. She looked to him and then back at the picture. Then at him. “You played basketball?”

  “Why do you sound so incredulous?”

  “I guess I just assumed you were born wearing boots and a cowboy hat, and that doesn’t fit the typical basketball-player image.”

  “Cowboys make great athletes.” He leaned his forearms on his knees so he could see if the Smith kid made his shot—nope. “It’s all that manual labor. When my dad was having me buck bales, he’d talk game strategy. Sometimes I wondered if Coach put him up to it.”

  He rarely mentioned his father, but regardless of all the people surrounding them, he felt safe mentioning him to Jemma. “He was always sneaking in life lessons as we were working. He wanted me to be as well prepared for life as possible.”

  It’d helped get him through his father’s unexpected death and was one of the reasons he wanted to instill the same thing in his daughter.

  “Sounds like a great dad—sounds like you. In my experience, parents don’t hear how good of a job they’re doing enough, and you’re a really good father, Wyatt.”

  Validation he didn’t realize he needed flowed through his veins. Sometimes he felt like he was bungling it up, his only saving grace that he was the one who’d stayed. He’d be there, no matter what, even if it meant shopping for dresses and learning to frost cupcakes.

  The home team scored, and the band burst into a loud celebration song that made it impossible to hear anything but that and the cheering.