Rugged Hearts (17 page)

***

Aimee woke, disoriented, to the shadowy twilight and the sound of quiet narration from somewhere in the room. A blur of images swirled in her brain. Then, as if punched by a cattle prod, her thoughts snapped awake. She sat up with a start and frantically looked around her. A table light nearby came on and she looked up to meet Wyatt’s concerned gaze.

“The kids are safe. You’re safe.” He pushed from the chair, sat down on the sturdy coffee table across from her, and clasped his hands over his knees.

She touched her head and the bandage she felt started a slow trickle in her memory of the sequence of events. She couldn’t remember how she wound up with the bandage or how she came to be on the couch. “How long have I been asleep? Has Principal Kale been called? The kids…. Are they okay; have they eaten?” She started to rise from the couch and immediately her students clamored around her.

“Mr. Kinnison fed us.”

“Mr. Kinnison fixed your head.”

“Mr. Kinnison let us put roasted marshmallows on our peanut-butter sandwiches.”

The barrage of accolades caused Aimee to ease back down on the edge of the couch. She held her hand up. “Please, one at a time. Ms. Worth’s head is still a bit groggy.” She managed to smile and mouthed a heartfelt “thank you” to Wyatt, who simply nodded. Despite his grumbling about children on the ranch, he looked remarkably comfortable in the midst of her students. Children, as Aimee had discovered, were good judges of character. Wyatt didn’t realize just yet how high up the totem pole her students had placed him. “No one else is hurt?” she asked, searching the brood before her.

“Not a scratch, except Joey,” Wyatt stated matter-of-factly. “Apparently there was an incident on the playground last week. Becky pushed him down. It’s a lengthy story and probably one you’ll want to hear full details of when you feel better.” He folded his arms across his chest and looked at the kids. “I gave them peanut butter and jelly, except Artie, who just got jelly due to his peanut allergy, which he was so thoughtful to share with me. Daytime television, even with satellite, I’ve discovered, lacks in choices of shows, but I managed to find the National Geographic Channel. There’s a show on bear migration and that’s kept them occupied most of the afternoon.”

“Can we—”

“May we,” Aimee corrected, wincing at the residual throbbing in her temple.

“May we go watch the polar bear show now, Ms. Worth?” Emilee piped up.

Aimee nodded and watched them scurry back to their spots on the floor near the dog. Her heart warmed with how safe he’d managed to make them feel. “You’re quite good with kids, Mr. Kinnison. Not many could keep their wits about them in a similar situation. We owe you….” Aimee’s throat closed with emotion and she recovered with a swallow and faced him directly. “We owe you a great deal.”

He narrowed his gaze on her and leaned forward, his dark eyes penetrating. She fought the desert dryness in her throat.

“I have a small request, Ms. Worth. When we aren’t in earshot of your students, I’d like it if you’d call me Wyatt. Mr. Kinnison sounds like you’re talking to my dad.”

Aimee refused to deliberate the implications of his request. “Sure.” She nodded and watched him stand.

“Can I get you like something, maybe some hot tea? Are you hungry?”

She tossed aside the lovely crocheted afghan that she’d snuggled under. It had the faint scent of Wyatt to it and she’d found it comforting “Just tea would be lovely. I can help you.” She stood and felt his hands on her shoulders.

“You probably should stay put for a while longer.”

His hands lingered, as did his concerned gaze. What she wanted was to curl herself under his arm and watch TV with her kids.

“Yeah, that’s probably wise. Has anyone at the school been called?” She tucked her legs beneath her as he adjusted the afghan around her shoulders. Her body came alive when he gently brushed her hair back over her shoulder.

“I called the principal as soon as I got everyone settled. He’s notified the parents. You don’t remember me telling you earlier?”

Aimee frowned. “I don’t. Is that bad?”

He shook his head. “Probably not, after all you’ve been through. I’d hazard a guess you’ve suffered a mild form of shock from that bump on your head. You just need to rest. One cup of tea coming up.” He turned to leave and she caught his hand. “Thank you for everything.” His hand was warm, rugged, firm. She felt safe near him, in some ways and completely at odds with herself in others.

“It’s nothing that anyone wouldn’t do under the same circumstances, Aimee. I’m no hero.” He let her hand slide from his. “I’ll get your tea.”

She felt the sting of his dismissal and yet part of her wondered if he purposely chose to keep his distance. It was better to adhere to his wisdom in any case.

As the lazy evening wore on, Aimee sat with her students and watched the perils of crocodile hunting, ate some wild rice soup, and watched a series of old television shows Wyatt had on video. Outside, the snow showed no signs of letting up.

She noted he sat after supper at the large desk at the end of the room, disconnected from the boisterous guests who’d invaded his quiet home. For being so close to the holiday, she noticed no decorations of any sort having to do with Christmas. Cast in the bluish light of the computer screen, his intense expression made her curious to know if he might be her mysterious classmate who called himself Montana.

She picked up the hot tea she’d made and walked up behind the chair to look over his shoulder. On the screen was a weather radar map. Bright splotches of white, pink, and blue covered the state, as though it were under attack from an erratic paintbrush.

“Is this the current weather?”

He nodded. “And the forecast isn’t much better for next couple of days.” He propped his chin on his hand and stared at the screen. “Looks like you all are staying put until this is over.”

“Oh dear, I nearly forgot. Do you have a landline I could use to call my friend? My cell phone battery has died and my only charger is for a car.”

He nodded toward the opposite corner of the desk where the phone sat.

Aimee nodded and walked behind him to get it. Her fingers itched to massage the broad shoulders that had carried so much today for her and her kids. She placed her cup on the desk, called Sally, and had to wait a moment before she answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sally, it’s Aimee. I guess by now you’ve heard we’re back at the Kinnison ranch.”

“I heard. You poor thing. I was so glad to hear you were all okay. How is it out there?”

Aimee’s gaze darted to Wyatt who sat busily studying the radar. “It’s fine. Mr. Kinnison has taken very good care of us. He’s a very gracious host.”

“Well, I for one am green with envy, but I’ll tell you, your adventures sure gave us plenty to talk about around the punch bowl at the parties today.”

“I’m sure,” she replied, hoping Sally would have defended her if the need arose.

“Oh no, honey. No one was talking bad. The topic was pure jealousy of having to be stuck in a snowstorm with the elusive Wyatt Kinnison.”

“And nine students,” Aimee reminded her, turning her body slightly so Wyatt wouldn’t hear her. “Listen, I understand Mr. Kale called all the parents?”

“Yes, ma’am. Hours ago. Your cowboy made sure of that. He even made sure to offer that the parents could call their kids at any time if they wanted to check on them.”

“He’s not—” Aimee glanced over her shoulder and met Wyatt’s steady gaze. “That’s very thoughtful.” Sparks. The kind she read about in those sappy romance novels. Ba-da-boom.

His smile as he glanced back down at the screen made her insides weak. Oh, yeah, he knew they’d been talking about him.

“Well, I guess that’s all…oh, wait. The potluck. I might have to ask you to cover for me. It’s tomorrow night.”

“Honey, if it keeps snowing like this, there may not be a potluck at all this year. Don’t worry about that. You just take care of yourself, your kids, and that cowboy.”

“Okay, I’ll be in touch. You all tucked in for the night, then?” she asked her friend.

“Oh yeah, it’s just me and a couple of Nick Sparks movies to make me think of you out there.”

“Enjoy your movies, Sally.”

“Enjoy being stranded.”

Aimee replaced the phone in the cradle and glanced at Wyatt. Her heart stopped when she saw the corner of his lip curl slightly. “What?” she prodded indignantly. She picked up her cup and waited for his response. His eyes glittered in the illumination of the computer screen.

“It’s probably a good thing the kids are here, right?”

Whoa
. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over her.
Did he just say what I think he said
? She pressed her fingertips on the edge of the desk to steady her wonky equilibrium and gripped her cup with the other hand. Hadn’t he been perfectly honest when he’d told her he wasn’t interested in anything permanent, but if she was interested in having a little fun to call him? Her legs wobbled a little and she locked them in place. With a deep breath, she rekindled her resolve not to give in to her vulnerable state. At least until they got through this storm, she’d have to set her naughty ideas of closet sex aside. “I don’t know what you mean,” she lied. Her cheeks warmed and she averted her eyes in a hurry to change the subject. “If you have some blankets and sheets, I can make us—I mean the kids and I—pallets on the floor out here in the living room.”

He cleared his throat and stood. The chair offered a plaintive creak in his wake.

“I’ve got a lot of blankets, but there are plenty of bedrooms, if they don’t mind doubling up in some of them.”

Aimee kept her focus on the children. There was no way on earth she could discuss bedrooms with him without turning five shades of crimson. “You’ve already been most generous, Wyatt. I don’t want to be any more of an imposition. He walked to her side, the scent of smoke and cedar from tending the fire all day for their comfort infused in the soft flannel fabric of his shirt.

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” He glanced at the children, shrugged his shoulders, and looked back at her, his eyes even darker in the dim light. “We’ll have to make the best of our situation, right?”

Her heart raced with him standing so near. “Right.” She pushed the words quietly from her lips. “I’ll go gather the children up for bathroom time.” She split up the boys and girls and monitored their nighttime routine, modified by the use of washcloths instead of a toothbrush. Wyatt appeared at the bathroom door and handed her a pile of T-shirts, one for each child to use as a nightshirt.

His fingers grazed her hand as she accepted them. “I’ll find something for you as soon as I clean up the kitchen.” He walked down the hall and flipped the lights on in two of the bedrooms.

Aimee was grateful for a bit of distance between them. She focused her thoughts on organizing clothing and shoes as the children changed into the makeshift nightshirts. Both rooms had a king bed, allowing the four boys to sleep in one room and the five girls to sleep in the other. The room across the hall was dark and she assumed it was Wyatt’s. She didn’t allow her thoughts to go beyond that. When at last every child was tucked in, she flipped off the bedroom lights.

One of the girls spoke up. “Ms. Worth? What happens if we don’t get home for Christmas? How will Santa know we’re here?”

She’d anticipated that question all afternoon as soon as she’d realized they might be stuck over Christmas Eve. “Santa will figure something out. I’m sure he will leave wonderful things at each of your homes, and when you get back, they will be waiting.”

“Ms. Worth, do you think Santa will visit Mr. Kinnison?”

She smiled.
Perhaps Wyatt Kinnison has already received a special gift but hasn’t realized it quite yet
. “I don’t know. I guess there are some things we’ll just have to wait and see about. Now go to sleep and perhaps the snow will let up enough for the plows to get through the pass tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to leave, Ms. Worth,” another voice piped up in the dark. “I like Sadie.”

“Mr. Kinnison has been very gracious to put us up. Now let’s be good guests and go to sleep.” Aimee backed out into the hallway, and as she pulled the door shut, bumped into a warm body. She whirled to face him.

“I thought maybe you’d gotten lost,” he whispered.

Her body erupted in an electrifying rush. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”

“We’re not exactly strangers, now are we?” He capped his response with a grin.

“No, I guess we’re not.” She glanced down at her feet. She focused on something she could handle, his hospitality. “Thank you again. You’ve been wonderful about all this.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth and bounced back to her eyes. “Look, Aimee, I’m no saint, so could you please stop treating me like one?”

God, she really wanted him to explain that one, but she didn’t dare ask. Her first responsibility was to her students, but she couldn’t deny the giddy thought she’d found herself stranded with him.

“You hungry?” he asked.

Glad for the change in topic, Aimee nodded. “I am a little.”

“Come on, then.” He steered her toward the kitchen. “I’ve made us some sandwiches. I thought you might feel the need for something substantial.”

She smiled and was glad he couldn’t see her face. He had no idea how true his words were and how little they had to do with food. The fireplace crackled softly as they walked to the kitchen. The moment felt so normal it was surreal. Based on the fantasies rolling around in her head, it was going to be a long night.

Chapter Ten

Wyatt had managed to overhear the conversation Aimee had with her friend, and though she’d brushed it aside, he had a harder time doing so. Truth was, a few hours ago he was happy to brush aside the silly way his body reacted whenever he thought of her. But the moment that truck began to slide away from him, something changed, and he feared not having the chance to see this curious attraction to some kind of conclusion. She’d turned his life upside down since the night she’d showed up on his porch. While he wanted to believe he wasn’t interested in anything long-term, the fact was she’d gotten under his skin, evidenced with how pleased he was when she gushed over his cooking skills.