“Well, I should be going, Rebecca is probably wondering where I disappeared to. You need me to come back and help you with a watch tonight?”
“Thanks, I’ll be okay. But I’ll call you if I need you.” Wyatt reached out and shook the man’s hand.
“Anytime.”
“About that—I sure could use a hand out here a couple of days a week. Rein’s taken over trying to get those cabins set up, and Dalton, well Dalton is Dalton.” He smiled. “Maybe after the holidays?”
Michael’s mouth curled in a grin and he nodded. “I was afraid of getting rusty.”
“Rusty is a bad thing. We’ll make sure it doesn’t happen.”
The old man pointed his finger at Wyatt. “Don’t you go out looking for that cat alone. Chances are he won’t show up again and probably not this close. But don’t take any chances.”
“Will do.”
“And, son,” Michael called over his shoulder as he headed to his truck. “About Betty’s concern?”
“Yeah?” He cast a tolerant look to the sky.
“Deb at the Git and Go saw that kiss.”
Wyatt closed his eyes and shook his head. Small wonder it hadn’t made the headline news…as far as he knew, anyway.
“She told Betty it looked pretty serious. Was it?” he asked, pausing at his truck.
He was still trying to figure that one out. Until he did, in his own sweet time, it was better to deny it. “No,” he lied. He wasn’t ready yet to admit to himself, much less anyone else, that the kiss had nearly knocked him on his ass.
The old man studied him. “Those damn perceptions again.” He shook his head. “Still, just so you know, Aimee’s nothing like Jesse.”
Michael had still been around for the drama of Jesse. He’d actually been one of the few who’d tried to warn Wyatt about her. Young and horny, he was interested in only one thing and Jesse was more than willing to offer it to him, at least until something better came along. Bottom line, he hadn’t listened. Maybe he should listen now.
“Just for the sake of argument, how would you know?” he asked and pushed up the brim of his hat.
“Because she’s my little Emilee’s teacher.”
Wyatt blinked with the awareness of how much time had flown by. He remembered when Emilee was born. “She’s old enough for school?”
“None of us is getting any younger.” He nodded. “I met Aimee at one of those open house things they have at school. She seems like a good woman.”
“Duly noted. But I’m good, thanks for the concern, and you can pass the information along to the rest of those in town who share it.”
The old man waved his hand in dismissal. “Oh sure, ’course you are. I’ve never worried about you. You’ve always been the one to think things to death. I know you’ll treat this with the same skill. But for what it’s worth, I think Big Jed would have liked this one. Oh, say, I almost forgot.” He reached in the cab and pulled out a foil-covered tin. “Rebecca won’t miss one of these. Pumpkin. I remembered how you boys loved them.” He brought the lukewarm pie over. “Merry Christmas, son.”
He held the covered pie beneath his nose and inhaled the sweet, cinnamon aroma. He just needed a cup of coffee and a fork.
“Save some for your brothers.”
“Doubtful,” he called. “Tell Rebecca thanks.” Though he wanted to extend the holiday greeting to his old friend, the words sounded bizarre in his head, leaving a tinny residue of bitterness. “I may eat this for breakfast,” he responded instead.
After a quick shower, he built a fire, fed Sadie, and cranked up his Tony Bennett CD. He settled on the couch, easing back for a moment in its soft embrace with a hot cup of coffee. He took a swallow, closed his eyes, and let its hearty aroma rekindle his senses. Rebecca’s pumpkin pie sat in front of him. He held a fork poised, at the ready. If he had nothing else the rest of the day, he’d be a happy man. With great reverence, he peeled back the foil and breathed the savory nutmeg-and-cinnamon scent. He glanced at Sadie, whose ears perked slightly as though to convey her hope that Wyatt might share his bounty with her. “Sorry, girl, this one’s mine.” He closed his mouth around the first bite and all but groaned at the sweet spice blend bursting on his tongue. Nope, there wasn’t even going to be any left to share with his brothers.
***
Aimee looked over her shoulder at the bundled up faces of innocence and pure joy radiating back at her. Surely, if anyone could melt an icy heart, it was this troupe. She’d carefully checked the weather again before leaving school, and according to the National Weather Service out of Billings, the snow was not expected to come in until after midnight. To dispel some of their pent-up energy, she started the children singing some of the songs they’d learned at school. She rounded the curve and remembered the last time she’d passed through it had been at night. The kids giggled as the truck shimmied down the lane over the gravel and hard-packed snow. Tucked in among the tall pines shading the yard stood the most magnificent log house she’d ever seen. A soft whirl of smoke curled from the chimney. She held her breath as she took in the sight. She’d seen the grandeur of the inside, but it was small in comparison to the splendor visible from the outside. The kids pressed their faces to the windows and made cow noises while Aimee’s insides quivered at the thought of her first visit. She brought the Suburban around the circular drive. It deposited guest’s right to the wide, front steps leading up to the wrap around front porch. The gravel beneath the tires crunched as she slowed to a stop. She half-expected Wyatt to come bounding out with a shotgun, but surprisingly, no one seemed to be around. The scent of burning cedar tickled her nose even before she opened the door “Everyone back in your seats. Mr. Kinnison will want to see your best behavior today, as do I. We represent your school on this trip, so let’s put on our best manners. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Ms. Worth,” a collective voice rose from behind her.
Aimee gathered the kids from the Suburban, hustled them as quietly as possible up the steps, and fought a sudden flurry of butterflies in the pit of her stomach. “Are you ready to sing the song we practiced?” Nine enthusiastic faces looked up at her in unified excitement. “Ready? One, two, three….” She nodded and the miniature choir rallied into a rousing, off-key rendition of “Jingle Bells.” They made it to “a one horse open sleigh” before the front door burst open.
Chapter Eight
“What the hel—” Wyatt clamped his mouth shut and curtailed the rest of his expletive as he stared at the sea of pint-size humanity crowded on his front porch. The sounds coming from their tiny lungs were loud enough to wake a hibernating bear and then chase him right back into the woods. “Aimee?” He glanced up in surprise and met her joyful expression. She held her arms out as if to say “here we are,” except for the small detail that he hadn’t expected anyone but her. He set aside his personal thoughts and realized this was the reason for her strange questions to him the other day at the drugstore. “Oh no. No.” He shook his head and held up his hands. “This is not what I meant when I agreed to this.”
“But you smiled. You nodded and waved. I was under the impression you agreed to this visit.
“I nodded, yes, but I thought it was you—”
“You stated clearly you wouldn’t refuse any child the right to learn, didn’t you?”
“Absolutely, I did. I-I just wasn’t expecting all these…kids.” He glanced down at the curious young faces looking up at him. Their enthusiastic song slowly waned in light of the verbal ping-pong match going on between him and their teacher.
“Oh!” It seemed to dawn on her suddenly what he was trying to say. “I see now why you’re confused, Mr. Kinnison.” Her cheeks turned a rosy hue. “Obviously, there has been a huge misunderstanding.”
He scratched the back of his neck. That was an understatement.
“I’m sorry, I’m not prepared for—” He felt a tug on his flannel shirt and looked down to an odd-looking tyke with thick glasses and hair that looked as though everything below a bowl inverted on his head had been shaved. “Yes?” He was tempted to assure the lad puberty would one day change everything for the better.
“Do you have indoor plumbing?” He blinked his overly large green eyes behind those pop-bottle lenses and waited for Wyatt’s answer.
He glanced at Aimee and then back to the boy. “Yes, of course.” He gave the child a puzzled look, then refocused his attention back to Aimee….er, Ms. Worth. “Listen, I don’t think that—”
The shirttail-tugger struck again.
“What?” Wyatt’s patience was wearing thin.
“It’s a long drive here, mister,” the youngster commented.
Wyatt stared at him a moment, and then it sank in. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”
The boy nodded, his grin showing the absence of a front tooth. A chorus of similar requests followed. He tossed Aimee a look and caught a sheepish grin.
“They did visit the bathroom at school, for what it’s worth. Too much excitement about coming here, I suspect.”
He blew out a sigh, stood aside, and ushered the pint-size brood into his home. Poor Sadie was having a conniption as she ran from child to child, tail wagging, freely giving welcome licks. “This seems to be a reoccurrence for you, showing up on my doorstep.” He leaned toward her and spoke quietly as she herded the group into the foyer. To her credit, Wyatt watched in awe with how systematically she dealt with each child and at the same time realized how very much out of control his life seemed to be every time Aimee Worth stepped into the picture. “Can we possibly do this with some semblance of order?”
She piled the coats on the nearest couch and then removed hers along with her stocking cap. She raked her fingers through her hair and turned to him as though they were ready for hot cocoa and marshmallows. Her smile halted the words of reprimand teetering on his lips.
“Ms. Worth?” A little boy was having difficulties with his bib-overall fastener and she dropped to one knee to help him, causing her sweater to ride up and show the delicate flesh above the waistband of her jeans.
Wyatt blinked, dragging his eyes from the spot, and valiantly kept his thoughts in check.
“If you’ll just point us in the direction of the restroom?” she asked over her shoulder.
There it was again. The sucker punch to his gut. “Yeah, there are two, actually. One this way.” He pointed toward the hall leading to the bedrooms. “The other is off the kitchen.”
She stood and absentmindedly tugged her sweater into place. “Boys, you follow Mr. Kinnison, and you girls come with me.” She glanced at him. “Can you handle it?”
He’d tucked his hands in his pockets and was for the briefest of moments content to drink in the color of her blue eyes, thinking how much more rested she looked now than the last time he’d seen her. “Oh…you mean bathroom duty?” It dawned on him suddenly that she was waiting for him to help. He freed one of his hands and swiped it through his hair, feeling very much out of control in his own home. “Uh, sure. I’ll take the boys down this way. You can take the girls to the other one—”
“Off the kitchen, got it. Thank you.” She walked away and left him alone with a half-dozen young and very anxious boys.
“Be sure to remind them to wash afterward.” She called as she led the girls around the dining room table.
Wyatt awkwardly rounded up the boys and shooed them down the hallway. He reached into the bathroom and switched on the light. “One at a time,” he ordered and glanced up to see Aimee waiting in the dining room, within view. She smiled and disappeared into the kitchen.
How did I get myself into this mess
?
Twenty minutes later, he leaned against the wall across from the bathroom, waiting on the last young boy. He had no idea bladders so small could hold so much. Either that or they were nosing around his stuff in the bathroom. Those who finished were dismissed to the living room with a caution to be nice to Sadie. Wyatt crossed his arms over his chest and glanced toward the kitchen. Aimee and the girls hadn’t emerged yet. How he’d so totally missed her signals preoccupied his thoughts.
“Mr. Kinnison, I can’t get my jeans snapped.” The last child, a plump little boy with a Spiderman T-shirt, looked up at him. His little fingers grasped his pants. He looked up with a concerned plea.
Wyatt’s former thoughts dissipated at the little boy’s request. He automatically kneeled. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re going to be a big guy one of these days and you’re going to have to learn to do this.” He spoke as he fastened the boy’s jeans. Wyatt glanced at the child’s face and sensed the kid had concerns about his body. “I’ll tell you secret, just between us guys, okay?”
The boy nodded and blinked at him with wide, brown eyes.
“When I was little, about your age, I guess, I was pretty sturdy too, but the cool thing is when you start getting tall, everything stretches out and becomes muscle.” He clamped his hand on the boy’s shoulder and hoped the child understood his meaning.
The child looked at Wyatt with a look of wonder, and then his face broke into a grin. “Cool, Mr. Kinnison. Thanks.” He hugged Wyatt’s neck unexpectedly and then scampered off into the living room. His knees felt glued to the floor as he tried to process what had happened. He’d never had a child hug him before and it left a strange feeling inside him. He stood and made a quick check of his bathroom before he followed the boys back to the great room, where all the little—correction, five
little
girls and one very grown woman—stood at the window staring at the light snowfall.
“Has the forecast changed, Mr. Kinnison?”
She turned to him and her cheek brushed against the collar of her red wool sweater. The contrast of her eyes and fair skin against the rich red momentarily stopped his brain. “I haven’t had a chance to check, but I understood the heavier snow wasn’t expected until after midnight.”
“Well, maybe it’s best we head on back. We both know how unexpected the snows can be in the mountains.” She brushed past him and he tried to ignore the soft scent of her perfume, not to mention how her faded jeans followed every curve. For reasons he could not justify, she looked blessedly right standing there in his home.