Country Hearts

by Cindi Madsen

  Jemma held out her hand for another nail, and when Wyatt placed it in her palm, a zing of electricity coursed through her. Shouldn’t her reactions to being around him—to every little touch—start fading?

  If anything, they were growing stronger with each smile, each word, each brush. Each minute, each second.

  Twenty minutes later, the set looked super close to how she’d envisioned it. Cloudy background, Mount Olympus visible through one window and a city landscape through the other. It’d take some stretches of the imagination to make it seem like two settings, but they made do with what they had, and the kids were so cute, all eyes would be on them anyway.

  A while ago, Wyatt had ducked behind the curtains and he hadn’t come back yet. She wanted to go see him—she found she was forever wanting to see him—but they’d already stirred up plenty of gossip.

  As if her thoughts had summoned him, he stepped out from behind the curtain, far cuter than The Wizard of Oz, who she’d had a crush on back in the day. Well, her classmate who’d played the role, not the actual wizard.

  “Hey, the wires were a bit of a mess,” Wyatt said, “but I took some electric tape and did a few minor repairs, and I figured you’d want to know how to work the lights and controls.”

  She lowered her eyebrows. “How’d you know you wouldn’t get shocked?”

  “Your faith in me is astounding,” he said, and she laughed. “I’ve done some wiring before. Out on the ranch it takes too long to call an electrician, or a mechanic, or a plumber, so I sort of picked up a pinch of everything—just enough to get by.”

  She’d never met a guy who was so resourceful, willing to dig in and get things done. She walked over to where he was, and as soon as they were behind the curtain, she said, “Just so you know, I have all the faith in you. Honestly, I think you’re amazing.”

  The instant the words were out, she wanted to stuff them back in, not because she didn’t mean them, but the raw sensation overtaking her chest insisted she’d left herself too exposed. She refused to take it back, though.

  “Thank you, Jemma.” That was all he said. But the way he peered at her, as if he could see into her very soul and he liked what he saw, soothed that raw spot and made her heart swell until he filled every single corner of it.

  Wyatt positioned Jemma in front of the big box with various switches and pointed over her shoulder. The scent of her vanilla perfume overwhelmed his senses, and he was acutely aware of how close she was. Every time he was around her, he got lost in her blue eyes, in her smile, her infectious laugh.

  “Come on, lever,” she said when she flicked it and the red-tinged lights didn’t turn on. “Don’t you want to work for me?”

  Amusement tugged the corner of his lips into a grin—on top of everything else, the woman was completely adorable. “Are you talking to the control box?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I talk to everything, just in case it’s listening. Can I confess something?”

  Everything inside him froze, but he managed to nod.

  “I didn’t realize it until I came here, but I talk to my bunny a lot. Like, a lot a lot. It helps, regardless of the fact that I’m relatively sure he only loves me for carrots—much like your horse.”

  Warmth suffused his veins. “Confession: I find that incredibly endearing. And I talk to my cows and horses all the time.”

  “I know. That first night we met, you were talking to Casper, scolding him in such a funny, affectionate way. It was super cute, actually.”

  He could feel the flush in his skin. Before right now, he’d say he didn’t get embarrassed. And he wasn’t so much embarrassed as…spotlighted, he supposed. She saw him. The real him.

  Since going too far down that path might lead to trouble, he worked to stick to the lighter side. “I think we only have to worry if our animals start talking back.”

  “Oh, Señor Fluffypants talks back. There’s just a language barrier.”

  “Because he speaks Spanish?”

  “No, he’s a bunny, silly. He speaks rabbit.”

  He huffed out a laugh as he shook his head, and her grin sent more of that intoxicating warmth pumping through him.

  She slowly spun to face him, and now she was caged in his arms. As if someone else was in charge of his arm, he lifted it and put his hand on the side of her neck. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he shouldn’t, and he wasn’t sure which side of him would win the tug of war.

  His thumb drifted over her jawline, making a case for letting go, just for a couple of seconds. His gaze locked on her lips, which parted on a shaky breath.

  “Jemma? I’m pretty sure—” Camilla stumbled to a stop, her eyes wide, her mouth forming an O. “Oh. Sorry, I—”

  “I was just showing Jemma how to work the lights.” Wyatt reached over, twisted the end of the wire around the screw, and used his pocket knife to twist it tighter.

  The red lights flickered on. “Looks like everything’s good to go now, so I should probably find Bailey Rae and get going.”

  What he needed to do was get his head straight, which would never happen around Jemma. He’d already tried space, but that hadn’t helped.

  Still, he didn’t want to run from her, because he was getting confused on the lines between neighborly and friendship and…more. So he gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Later,” she said in a soft voice that made him want later to be right now.

  “Dang, girl. I felt like I was busting in on a high school couple who’d snuck back here to make out,” Camilla said, nudging Jemma with her elbow. “Sorry about that.”

  Jemma’s mind continued to spin, her thoughts whirring out of control. One was much louder than the rest, though: Would he have kissed me if we hadn’t been interrupted?

  Over the past week or so, she’d been thinking she might be alone in wanting to cross lines, but for one delicious moment, she’d sworn he’d been right there with her.

  She could still feel the brush of his callused palm, feel the heat that’d corkscrewed through her as his gaze had dropped to her mouth. “Oh, he was just showing me the control board. Like he said.”

  Skepticism washed over Camilla’s features, and she crossed her arms. “Years in administration have made me a human lie detector, and I don’t buy that. Not for a second.”

  Jemma sighed. “Okay, it started out as that. I’m not sure what it ended up being.” If only she’d had a few more minutes to find out.

  It was a bad idea, letting Wyatt Langford kiss her.

  Or was it the best idea ever?

  It’d make things complicated, but nothing worth anything was ever easy, right? If he liked her back, that changed everything. It made it safer to let herself fall.

  The only problem was, if she did, she didn’t think she could ever go back. The easiness between them would be ruined. She was also fairly certain no guy would ever come close to comparing, either, and she was leaving, and…

  My heart is in so, so much trouble.

  Chapter Eighteen

  After a small snowstorm that night, the sun had come out, and the roads and sidewalks were clear, only a few unmelted piles in sight. In celebration, Jemma decided she’d grab a quick brunch at Havenly Brew. Then she’d do some much-needed grocery shopping. She was contemplating purchasing ingredients for a semi-fancy meal that’d feed more than one, and she wasn’t talking about her and Señor Fluffypants.

  The bell over the door of the coffee shop let out a happy jingle, and Jemma practically skipped inside, her cute camel-colored boots tapping out a matching rhythm.

  Until she spotted the special’s chalkboard next to the cash register. A strange sense of foreboding crept across her skin. “The Wymma? What’s that?”

  “Oh, it’s our new special,” April said. “It’s a blend of smooth, country hot chocolate w
ith a kick of city cinnamon spice. I also sprinkle heart-shaped cinnamon candies and dark chocolate shavings over the whip cream.”

  Nancy Gardner, who was seated in a circular table off to the side, raised her cup. “I highly recommend it. It’s delicious.”

  A few other people echoed the sentiment.

  Jemma’s breaths were coming out faster and faster. Country. City. Wyatt. Jemma. She wanted to believe it was some weird coffee drink she’d never heard of, but there was no way it was a coincidence. “And how exactly did you come up with it?”

  A sheepish expression overtook April’s face. “Well…”

  Jemma’s skin was flushed; she could feel it in her cheeks. Apparently she was city cinnamon, so it made sense that she was running hot.

  The bell over the door jingled, and the other woman most likely in on this embarrassing development strolled in. Camilla froze when she saw Jemma, guilt creeping into her features.

  “I knew it! You told?” The hurt in her voice couldn’t be helped—they were supposed to be friends.

  “Told what?” Camilla asked. Then she leaned closer. “Is there something to tell?”

  Jemma exhaled, doing her best to keep her patience. She was starting to understand the downfall of the way word spread in small towns. She gestured toward the special’s board and the new drink of the week. “The Wymma?”

  Confusion creased Camilla’s features for a moment before dawning smoothed them out. Then she grimaced. “It wasn’t me. Everyone saw you two at the basketball game and drew their own conclusions.”

  “Especially after we heard you two also cozied up while you were building sets for the play,” April added with a proud nod.

  Jemma fought the urge to cover her face with her palm. “So you made a drink with our names squished together?” The question ended on a high-pitched squeak. She was finally breaking through to Wyatt the tiniest bit, but she could tell he was hesitant to cross into more. She’d already attack-hugged him, only to have him freeze in place.

  If he saw their drink, would he think she’d asked April to make it? To give him a nudge?

  Would he freak out that everyone was suspecting they were more than friends, the way she was starting to freak out?

  Camilla placed her hand on Jemma’s arm and spoke in a soothing tone. “Relax. She does this all the time, and people always know it’s all in good fun.”

  “Tastes like chocolate-covered cinnamon bears,” Nancy said, licking whip cream off her lip. “You simply must try one.”

  April wrung her hands together. “You both just looked so happy. I decided it was a good reason to celebrate. That the entire town would want to share the happiness of a new couple.”

  One thing was for sure, Jemma definitely didn’t feel happy now. Out of desperation, she pinched her thigh, hoping she’d shoot up in bed and discover this was a nightmare. She could tell Camilla about it, then they’d laugh…

  The pinching didn’t do anything but sting, confirming this was truly happening.

  “Tell you what,” April said, grabbing a cup. “On the house, since I used you as half the inspiration. One for you, and one for Camilla.”

  Before she could argue, April was making the frothy drinks. She also put a chocolate muffin on a plate without her having to ask, then cautiously slid the order across the blue counter to Jemma and Camilla.

  Reluctantly, Jemma took a sip of the drink named halfway after her, and she barely stifled a moan. It was amazing—one of April’s best concoctions yet.

  Maybe I can be won over with delicious food and drinks more easily than previously thought.

  Camilla took a sip of her Wymma. “Don’t kill me, but it is really good. The flavors pair so nicely.” She hooked her arm through Jemma’s and propelled her toward a table in the corner.

  They passed Lainey Townsend, who was at her computer working as usual. Jemma had run into her a couple of times here and had discovered she lived just down the road from her, at the place with the llamas. Since she worked remotely for some big company, Lainey often used Havenly Brew as her second office, and they’d joked about being as desperate for fast WiFi as caffeine.

  But right now, it was all Jemma could do to nod hello.

  Lainey seemed pretty into her work anyway, but the drink next to her laptop looked suspiciously like the one in Jemma’s hand.

  Everyone in town is going to assume the wrong thing. It’s probably too late to even attempt damage control.

  The scrape of chair legs vaguely registered before Camilla guided her into a chair and took the seat across from her. “Like I said before, it’s just lighthearted fun. So why do you look so stressed?”

  The agitating tornado of emotions made it hard to pick one out from the rest, and Jemma ran her hand through her hair, trying to sort through the turmoil so she could pinpoint it herself. “Because I don’t know how Wyatt feels, and I’m afraid if he sees our names all squished together like that, he’ll panic.”

  “Because you don’t think it’s what he wants?” Camilla asked, and Jemma’s stomach sank. “Or it’s not what you want?”

  After a beat or two, Jemma shrugged. It was what she wanted, but the many obstacles still concerned her—and now she had to worry that everyone in town would also be upset if it didn’t work out. “It’s complicated. Not only am I his daughter’s teacher, I don’t have a secure future here. As you’re well aware, I was hired temporarily.”

  “I’m sure we can find you a spot somewhere, even if it takes a while. None of us want you to leave.”

  The word “leave” made her chest squeeze. How had she gotten so attached to everyone in a month? After her first rocky week here, it had seemed especially impossible.

  But here she was anyway.

  While she was sure Camilla would try, she knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Randa had said the same thing and had also called up contacts and helped her scour every district in the city for job openings.

  Jemma had thought she’d had a lot to lose then, but now she had even more to lose.

  And if she and Wyatt crossed lines, it would be more than she was willing to risk.

  Jemma slowed as she neared the fork in the road. Right, toward her cottage? Or left, to Wyatt’s ranch?

  The steering wheel seemed to turn on its own, as if it knew her heart better than she did.

  I need to talk to him anyway. See if I can get ahead of this whole Wymma thing.

  She eased the car to a stop in front of the porch, but as she climbed out, she spotted the top of a familiar cowboy hat near the corral. The driveway had turned to mud, but the grassy areas still had a light dusting of snow that made each individual blade stand out.

  Wyatt glanced her way as she approached, and his smile was like a beacon in a storm, one that guided her toward him and pushed her worries aside enough that she could smile back.

  “Hey,” she said, because she was eloquent like that.

  “Hey,” he said back, probably because he’d never had a chatty problem.

  Casper whinnied and came running, and if it wasn’t for the wooden beams of the fence he frequently broke out of, he would’ve plowed right over her.

  “Sorry, big guy.” She patted her pockets, as if he’d understand that. “I don’t have any carrots on me.”

  The horse stuck his long nose over the fence, and she ran her hand over it and then up to rub circles on his forehead. Surprisingly, he seemed about as happy about the rubdown as when she fed him carrots.

  “Have you ever ridden a horse?” Wyatt asked. He was leading a tall, pale-brown pony with charcoal-colored hair. The horse had a saddle on its back, so her cowboy neighbor was obviously getting ready for a ride of his own.

  “Do the kind on the merry-go-round count?” she asked, and Wyatt cocked his head. “Don’t look at me like it’s a common thing. There are city things I bet you haven’t done.
Like…have you ever gone to the opera?”

  “No, and I wouldn’t willingly, either.”

  She laughed. “If I’m being honest, I’d always wanted to go to the opera. But once I went with my friend, I was like, whoa, this is a whole lot of superhigh singing.” Mrs. Hembolt would’ve been in heaven—perhaps a decade or two ago, she would’ve been the star. “It was in Italian too, so I had no idea what they were saying.”

  “You’re saying there was a language barrier, just like with you and your rabbit.”

  A giggle burst out of her. She did that so much more around Wyatt. She couldn’t even look at him anymore without her heart soaring and silently screaming how very much she liked him. “Much the same, yes. In fact, I’m thinking of auditioning Señor Fluffypants for a musical.”

  He laughed. “Perfect. Take Casper with you. See if they can find a way to keep him penned.”

  “What do you think? The Sound of Music, or Footloose?”

  “Not sure if Casper can dance, but if he could make some decent money, I’ll get right on teaching him.” Wyatt gathered the reins in his hands. “Well, what do you say? You up for a ride?”

  “Oh. I was just on my way home from town, and figured I’d stop by and say hi.” And tell you there’s a drink named after us because everyone thinks we’re a couple to cheer for, and I totally do too, but it also scares me, and I’m afraid it’ll scare you even more.

  “You can’t come out here to the country and not learn how to ride a horse—especially if you’re going to drive your car into ditches. Horses might be your only chance at transportation.”

  “Hey!” She lightly smacked his arm. “It was only one time, and you’re never going to let me live it down, are you?”

  He shook his head, mischief dancing in his hazel eyes.

  She stuck her hands in her pockets so she wouldn’t attack-hug him again, and rocked back on her heels. “I suppose I should try the horse-riding thing.” Clearly he’d been on his way somewhere. “Unless you’re busy now. I can come back later.”