He thrust greedily, his hands holding her close while the weight of his body kept them against the wall. She sighed, then moaned as his movements quickened until her entire body strained and shook.
“Oh, Finn!” she cried, her head rocking back and forth helplessly. “Yes, please, yes!”
They climaxed together, something that until that moment, he’d thought only existed in the movies. When it was over, the two of them slid down to the pile of clean hay beneath their feet, her head resting on his shoulder. He reached out and absently stroked her hair.
“You know what?” he said when his heart rate finally slowed to something approaching normal.
“No,” she said with a smile he could hear in her voice. “What’s that?”
“I feel a whole lot better than I did before. Don’t let this go to your head or anything, but I think you might be magic.”
“Yeah?” she laughed, nuzzling in closer to him. “Well, don’t let this piss you off or anything, but I think you might be crazy.”
“You wouldn’t be the first one to make that particular observation,” he chuckled, smiling into the steadily darkening barn, “and I doubt you’ll be the last.”
"I doubt it, also," she agreed, sighing as she made to get to her feet. "Now, come on, old man. We need to get ourselves looking halfway decent and into the house. That's where Wendy will expect to find us, you know, when she gets back. Which she will be soon, I have no doubt."
Finn bit his tongue and did as he was told. A part of him was still bound and determined to argue with her, but that part was so small now, he didn’t feel like stoking the fires to get it up and running again.
As it happened, there was no need. Not twenty minutes later, Wendy’s friend’s mother had her standing at the front door, telling a mortified story about a game of Life that got out of hand and a cell phone misplaced by some clever, not to mention willful, children.
Sixteen
Callie watched Finn closely after the debacle involving Wendy's belated return home. Her fear was that he would become controlling, maybe even to the point a frightening his daughter. She had seen it before. Sometimes, a parent could get out of line after a serious scare. For whatever reason, Wendy's tardiness after her sleepover had given him just that. And so she watched and waited, doing her best to be ready to step in and keep the peace if need be. That was why she was there, after all, she reminded herself with no small amount of self-recrimination. First and foremost, she was there to help make sure Wendy got everything she needed. Rolls in the hay with Finn were a nice distraction, but that was all they were and all they ever could be: distractions. The teacher and the rancher, whatever they were playing at, could be nothing more than a summer dalliance at best. Wendy's future had to remain her main priority. She had to make sure that when she left, Finn and Wendy would be getting along so well together, they would hardly even notice she'd gone.
And yet, despite her conviction that this must be true, Callie couldn’t help herself. She was drawn to Finn time and again, whether it was helping him out in the barns with Wendy or the two of them lingering at the end of the day and drinking the odd beer or glass of wine together after a particularly long day. As the summer days rolled along, Callie found herself wanting to learn all she could about the mysterious man who was Wendy’s father. She told herself it was in the name of research. And if she found him fascinating in the process? Well then, so be it. Nothing was wrong with getting a little something for herself in the pursuit of the greater good.
“Just think of it as a going-away present to yourself,” she murmured, then blushed furiously as she remembered just how good a going-away present it had been thus far.
“What kind of present?” Finn asked from the open doorway of the kitchen, where he had apparently been watching her for some unknown length of time.
She jumped so high, she was surprised she didn’t hit her head on the ceiling, and dropped the bowl of batter she had been stirring while letting her mind wander. “Jeez, Finn!” she exclaimed, looking down at the mess that had once been a batch of cookies before turning a reproachful gaze in his direction. “What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?”
“Me?” he asked innocently, shooting her the slightly crooked smile that made her stomach want to do somersaults. “Come on now, that doesn’t sound like something I would do, does it?”
"Are you kidding me?" she asked, feigning annoyance as she grabbed a kitchen towel off the countertop and tossed it in his direction. "That sounds exactly like something you would do. In fact, I’m going to let you clean this mess up, maybe think about your actions a little. All in the name of self-improvement, you understand.”
“Course,” he said, tipping his hat to her and getting to work without further complaint. “I didn't mean to, though. Didn’t mean to startle you, that is. It just got me thinking, listening to you talking to yourself that way.”
“Got you thinking what?” Callie asked, settling onto one of the stools beside the kitchen island and trying not to be too obvious about her admiration for the way Finn’s muscles looked as his arms went about the task of making the floor spotless again. “That it might be fun to see how big a scare you could give me?”
“Nah, actually, it got me thinking about my father.”
That was enough to make Callie sit up and pay attention, all lustful thoughts shoved aside for later. In all the time she had been living under Finn's roof, she hadn't once heard him mention his parents. The only family she'd heard him talk about, in fact, was Wendy and Alexandra. Finn might as well not have had parents. Hearing mention of a father now, Callie practically held her breath in anticipation of what he might say next. All at once, she found herself so curious about Finn Henry's origins, she almost couldn't stand it.
“I know,” he laughed uncomfortably, offering her a cursory glance as he finished the floor and went into the fridge to fish out a beer. “It’s not every day a guy compares you to his dad, is it?”
"Doesn't bother me a bit," she answered, striving to keep her tone lighthearted, "just so long as you tell me why. You're not saying I sound manly?"
"Not even close," he said with a smile, although it was faraway and didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's the way you talk to yourself. My old man used to do it all the time. Said it was one of those quirks he picked up from the other clowns. When I pointed out that other people talked to themselves too, not just the clowns, he’d shrug his shoulders and ask me where I thought they learned it from."
“Hold on,” Callie said hesitantly, “I think you lost me. How did we get to talking about clowns?”
"Oh, my old man," Finn said, that same strange smile still on his face. "Didn't I tell you? He was a rodeo man too, only he was one of the clowns. He's the one that instilled the love of the whole thing in me. We used to move with one of the bigger outfits—until my old man passed, that was."
“I didn’t realize,” she said softly, wanting to go to him but not quite daring to break the spell that had opened him up to her, “that he was dead, I mean.”
“As a doornail,” Finn nodded, either missing the look of shock on Callie’s face at the seeming callousness of the statement or pretending to. “He died doing what he loved.”
“What?” Callie asked in surprise. “You mean he died in the rodeo? But I thought he was one of the clowns.”
"He was," Finn confirmed, "and that's what got him in the end. See, people don't know this about rodeo clowns, but it's actually one of the most dangerous things you can do as far as rodeo goes. You're always putting yourself in harm's way, see? People see the funny part, and they get so wrapped up in it that they don't see the danger that goes right along with it. My pops always did his best to downplay that part of it, but I knew. By the time he died, I was going on seventeen, and I understood a whole lot more than he gave me credit for."
"Why didn't you say something to him about it?" Callie asked, her face growing hot as she spoke. It wasn't her place to ask a question like that,
she knew well, especially not when he was trusting her to hear what he needed to say. At the same time, the teacher in her couldn't help feeling at least a little pissed off by what she was hearing. A parent—from the way Finn was telling the story, a single one, too—didn't have the luxury of being reckless with his life. Once a parent, your responsibility, first and foremost, was to your child. It didn't matter how much Finn's dad had loved being a rodeo clown. He should have loved his son more. Callie wanted to tell Finn that, too, except that she didn't see how to say it without drawing attention to the massive elephant in the room. If Finn knew how dangerous rodeo could be, and clearly he did, why on earth was he so bound and determined to follow in his father's footsteps? Why would he risk leaving his own child in the same position he had been left in, once upon a time?
“What?” he asked, slicing neatly through her whirling thoughts. “What’s that face?”
“I don’t know,” she asked, struggling to sound lighthearted and only halfway succeeding. “I can’t see my face.”
"It’s just," he answered, watching her closely, "you got a little serious-looking there for a minute. I say something wrong?"
“No,” she lied, filing her concerns away for a different day, one when she was prepared to do some fighting, “you only got me to thinking. I’ve never actually seen a rodeo.”
“What?!” he practically shouted, setting his beer down on the kitchen counter with a hard thud that sent suds spurting out of the top of the bottle like a volcano. “You’ve got to be kidding me. No fooling?”
“Nope,” she answered, blushing furiously but enjoying the full force of his attention all the same, “no fooling. Never set foot in one. Guess I never saw the draw. Plus, with all those people and animals, there’s no way my parents would have been comfortable with me mingling with folks who might have germs. I suspect that if she could, mom would have kept me safe in a giant bubble.”
“But that’s a travesty!” Finn said, looking for all the world like he truly meant what he said. “How can you call yourself a Texan and tell me you’ve never been to a rodeo?”
"I don't know," Callie shrugged, hopping down off of her stool, grabbing a clean dish towel, and going to work on the spilled beer. "That's just how things happened. Don't worry. I don't feel deprived, if that's what's bothering you."
“Forget what you feel,” Finn said disgustedly. “I feel deprived for you. This just can’t stand, honey. I can’t allow it to.”
“Is that so?” she asked, resting her hands on her hips and putting on her best serious face. “And what do you propose to do about it?”
“I propose to rectify the situation,” he shot back without the faintest hint of hesitation in his voice, “post haste. Go and grab Wendy, will you? We’ve got a field trip to take. We’ll consider this one a part of your education, not Wendy’s. Deal?”
“Deal,” she said happily, already halfway to the kitchen door to fetch Wendy and get her ready to go.
* * *
A mere half hour later, the three of them were piling out of Finn's truck, Wendy chattering happily as Callie tried to look everywhere at once. She shouldn't be so taken by the whole experience, and part of her was disappointed in herself for being so. It was going to be a whole lot more difficult to stay on her high horse if everything she looked at made her exclaim with delight and excitement.
Part of it was being able to experience the rodeo for the first time by seeing it through Finn’s eyes, no doubt about that. In all her time knowing him, both as teacher-to-parent and as whatever the two of them were to each other now, she had never seen him look quite so happy as he did walking them into the arena. He led them into the middle of a genuine labyrinth—to Callie’s mind, at least—of livestock pens, held out both arms like he was trying to give the whole mess a hug, and took a deep breath.
"This, my dear, is the rodeo," he crowed with self-satisfaction. “Learn it. Live it. Love it."
“Is that all?” she asked with a wry smile and a wink tipped in Wendy’s direction.
“Close, but not quite,” he answered, sounding smug. “The only other thing I want to say is, welcome to America’s pastime. I think the rest will speak for itself.”
“Right,” Callie laughed, rolling her eyes dramatically and sending Wendy into a fit of giggles. “Except that the American pastime is baseball, not rodeo.”
“Maybe in other parts of the world, honey, but we ain’t in other parts of the world. We’re in the West, and out here, rodeo is king.”
“All right, then,” Callie sighed. “You might as well show me.”
As Finn led the three of them from one attraction to the next, Callie couldn't help admitting, if only to herself, that she was having the time of her life. Part of it was doing something she had never done before. After living a childhood so sheltered, it had been downright suffocating, she jumped at any chance to try something different. It was more than the novelty of it that had her so enthralled, though, and she couldn't pretend otherwise. It was seeing Finn so completely in his element. Every part of him seemed to be one hundred percent at ease with where they were and what they were doing.
Until they rounded a corner and ran directly into a clown in full makeup and gear.
“Daddy!” Wendy screamed, instantly alert and jumping up and down with excitement. “Daddy, look!”
“I see him, baby,” he answered, offering a smile that looked to Callie a whole lot more like a grimace.
“He’s got balloons, Daddy,” Wendy continued, tugging on both Callie and Finn’s sleeves resolutely. That little girl’s determination to get a better look almost seemed to be giving her super strength, too, because before Callie knew it, she and Finn were being swept right along. She would have been more than happy to visit the clown for as long as Wendy liked, but Finn was another matter entirely. He seemed so determined not to see the clown up close and personal that he actually pried his little girl’s fingers off his wrist and took a step backward.
“Daddy, come on,” Wendy scolded, planting her hands on her hips and scowling in a nearly perfect imitation of adult displeasure. “I want to go see him. I want to get my face painted and an animal balloon!”
"Plenty of time for that another day," Finn stammered, looking at the clown suspiciously as if he thought the poor guy might try to bite. "For now, why don't we show Callie what else there is to see? She might not want to spend her first rodeo hanging out with a bad ol’ clown."
“He’s not bad,” Wendy corrected stonily, looking for all the world like she had just suffered a mortal insult lobbed at her long-lost best friend. “He’s great, and I’m gonna get a balloon!”
"How about this?" Callie interjected when she could see that neither father nor daughter had any intention of backing down, even if it meant launching into World War Three right in front of the whole rodeo world. "Wendy can get her balloon, and we'll stand right here and watch. We'll be able to see everything from this spot, and you can fill me in on any of the rodeo lingo I don't know. Sound like a plan?"
Finn opened his mouth, looked at the clown, and then shut it again. Callie had a pretty good idea what was going through his head, and her heart went out to him. She was sure that the scare of having Wendy turn up so much later than she was supposed to from that stupid sleepover hadn't left him, and it probably wouldn't, not anytime soon. On the one hand, he didn't want to let his little girl farther away than arm's length, for fear of going through the whole thing all over again. On the other hand, he seemed bound and determined not to get anywhere near that clown.
“Okay,” he finally answered in a grudging voice. “I guess that’ll do. But Wendy, if you try anything funny, dart off or anything like that, you’ll be thirty before we do anything like this again. Don’t make me regret taking a whole day for this.”
"I won't!" Wendy practically sang, already skipping in the direction of the clown and the small cluster of adoring children clustered around him. Smiling, Callie watched Wendy's progress, waiting until sh
e was certain the little girl was out of earshot before turning her attention back to Finn.
“Okay,” she said, trying her best to look serious but only partially succeeding. “Spill it.”
“Spill what?” Finn asked, looking at her defensively for a split second before his eyes snapped back in Wendy’s direction.
“No way, mister,” Callie laughed. “You’re not getting off that easily. What’s the deal with you and the clown?”
“Who said there was a deal?”
“Yeah,” Callie smirked, “that’s not going to work for me. For starters, that’s not even an answer, it’s just a deflection. And secondly, you don’t need to be a genius to see that there’s a deal here. Now, are you going to tell me yourself, or am I going to have to do some digging?”
“No digging, woman, for the love of God,” Finn grumbled. “I’ll tell you. Just try not to laugh too hard, will you?”
“I’ll do my best, but I can’t make any promises.”
“I don’t like ‘em, okay?” he said in a low, husky voice. “I don’t like clowns.”
"Ha!" Callie crowed triumphantly. "I knew it! You are so busted, my friend. I could smell the fear coming off of you a mile away."
“You caught me,” he snapped, sounding more like a sullen teenager than a grown man.
"I did," Callie mused, squeezing his shoulder lightly to show that it was all meant in good fun, "but that doesn't explain why. You said your dad was a rodeo clown, right?"
“Indeed, I did,” Finn agreed.
“So then, why are you scared of them? I don’t get it. You’re scared of the clowns, but you’re so determined to be a part of the rodeo?”
“I never liked that I couldn’t tell exactly who it was behind the paint, okay?” Finn sighed, although he was wearing a sheepish smile now that told Callie he wasn’t legitimately angry. “Something about it gave me the willies back then. Still does today. I like to know who I’m talking to.”
The Rancher’s Unexpected Nanny Page 13