Rugged Hearts (18 page)

“Oh my Lord, this is fantastic. Where did you learn to cook?” Aimee closed her eyes as a look of pure euphoria washed over her expression. She might as well have been dancing on a pole for what it did to him. He forced down the bite stuck in his throat and attempted to put his wayward thoughts in check. After all, he had a house filled to the rafters with children and it probably went against some proper school etiquette to be fantasizing about their teacher.

“It’s only ham and cheese on rye, Aimee. Not exactly a culinary challenge.”

She popped the last portion in her mouth and sighed with far too much intimacy for a mere sandwich. His gaze was glued to her mouth as she took a sip of her hot chamomile tea. The dill pickle spear went next, causing him to shift a little in his chair. Another sigh.
Gawd have mercy
. Barely able to swallow at that point, he tossed the uneaten half of his sandwich on his plate and desperately sought a way to take his mind off sex. “How’s your head feeling?”

“Better. There’s a little pain, but nothing like it was before.” Her temple, however, was beginning to show evidence of swelling. “Are you going to eat that?” She eyed his plate.

Surprised by her voracious appetite, he handed her his sandwich. “Knock yourself out.”

“You’re sure?”

He spread his hands and shrugged. “I’m good. Glad to see you’re hungry. That’s a good sign.”

She smiled sheepishly and plucked the food from his plate. “Hopefully this doesn’t color your perception of me. I don’t always eat like this. I just can’t remember when a ham and cheese tasted this good.”

He nodded and found her candid behavior refreshing. She wasn’t like some women, pretending to be a certain way to impress people. He liked her honesty. She spoke her mind and yeah, maybe she was a bit bossy, but after an afternoon spent with her students, he could see why.

“Wyatt?”

He blinked, startled from his thoughts. “Yeah?”

“You looked like you were somewhere else.” She leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms over her head. “Thank you for the delicious snack. It really hit the spot.”

Wyatt stared blatantly at her, envisioning her beneath him, stretching as luxuriously after a bout of lovemaking.
Shit
. “You’re welcome. You know, I suspect those kids will be up early.” His appetite for food gone, he stood and held out his hand to take her plate. “You finished?” His tone was brusque. He had to be. If he let go an inch of his reserve, he’d cave in to his base desires.

“Oh sure, here. I’m going to sleep like a baby.” She offered up her dish. “Can I help you with anything?” She appeared next to him at the kitchen sink and opened the dishwasher.

“I’m fine. Really, I’ve got this.” He debated whether to reach in front of her or go from behind. He chose the latter, pinning her between him and the sink, torturing himself with the soft scent of her perfume mingled with the warmth of her skin. “Listen, you can have my room. I’ll take the couch.” He tossed her a look as he straightened and stepped back to give her passage.

“I wouldn’t dream of kicking you out of your bed.”

He met her blue-eyed gaze and was about to suggest a simple alternative when his brain stepped in and smacked him. He busied himself with the dishes. “It wouldn’t feel right to have you on the couch.”
That
was a lie. Right now, he thought anywhere, including his bed, would be a great place to have her. Was it him or did she, too, feel the heat sizzling between them? He cleared his throat. “It’s not a problem, really. I’ll be fine on the sofa. You need a good night’s rest. Why don’t you go on to bed. I need to finish here and then go check on the horses before I turn in.”

She stopped at the door and looked back. “Will you be okay out there alone?”

He hadn’t told her about the calf, but she remembered seeing the mountain lion. Just the same, he’d spent all of his life out here. Being cautious was part of the territory.

“I’ll be careful. I always take my rifle. However, since you mentioned seeing a mountain lion, you need to know that I think I lost a calf to one the other day. I can’t say it was the same, but generally they don’t come venturing too far down where there are people unless they’re looking for food. Just to be sure, I’d advise not letting the kids go out to play until we’ve located it.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Please be careful.”

“I’ll manage fine, thanks.” He wiped his hands on a towel and shut the dishwasher. “I’ve lived all my life out here, Aimee. I’m a big boy.”

She stared at him for the span of a heartbeat, then nodded. “Okay. Good night, then.” She turned to leave and he realized that his room wasn’t exactly prepared for a guest.

“Aimee, um, hold up a sec. I need to check my room and pick up a few things. Just…just have a seat. I’ll be quick.” He didn’t wait to hear her protests about not going to any trouble on her account. He hurried down the hall, flipped on the light, and made a quick scan of the room that hadn’t seen a woman in quite some time. Snatching the comforter and sheets together, he tossed them into place and smoothed out as many wrinkles as possible. He scooped up a pair of dirty jeans, a towel, and a pair of boxer briefs into his arms and straightened to meet Aimee’s grin.

“You don’t have to go to any trouble for me, Wyatt. I’m grateful you’ve offered me your bed.”

Damn
. He stared at her, clutching the dirty laundry to his chest, wishing she didn’t seem to have such a high opinion of his stellar character. Because a gentleman wouldn’t be considering the thoughts he was having about her at the moment. “There are towels in the bathroom if you feel like you need to wash your hair.” He didn’t offer to assist, but it didn’t mean he hadn’t thought of it.

“I’d feel decadent showering when the kids didn’t bathe.” She pushed off her shoes and scooted them to the side of the bed.

“Aimee, the kids don’t have blood caked in their hair.” He reached up, then and barely touched the bandage. It took every bone in his body to drop his hand and head toward the door.

“Wyatt?” The husky gentleness of her voice caused his body to tighten.

“You mentioned something about a nightshirt?”

“Oh, yeah, right.” He hastily opened a drawer and fished out one of his softer flannel shirts, valiantly avoiding the image of her flesh pressed against it. “Will this do?” He handed it to her.

“This is wonderful. Thanks.” She clutched it to her breast.

He had to get out of there before he came unglued. One foot made it to the hall before he heard her call his name. The sound touched him like a warm summer breeze. He closed his eyes and turned around to face her. She smiled, lifted up on her toes, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I know you aren’t a saint, Wyatt, but you are a good man. And you don’t meet a good man every day.”

He held her gaze inches from his face and swallowed hard. With a valiant effort, he backed into the hallway.

“Good night,” she stated and gently closed the door.

Wyatt stood and stared at the block of wood between them, closed his eyes, and forced his feet to the front hall, where he put on his coat and boots. He needed a good blast of cold air.

***

Aimee lay awake, deprived of sleep by the howling of the wind outside and the masculine scent of the pillow on which she lay. Every time she closed her eyes and tried to snuggle deep under the covers, her nose would breathe in Wyatt’s earthy scent. She’d even tried to cuddle with the extra pillow, but it only made matters worse. At some point after she’d turned out the lights, she heard the front door open and close. Somehow, the sound of his boots across the front porch made her feel safe, watched over. It was dangerous, she pondered, to muse over him like some lovesick schoolgirl, but the way he’d stepped up and handled everything had endeared him to her in a way she couldn’t easily dismiss. He exuded responsibility and it seemed to come so naturally to him. It didn’t take long for her to recognize that. But his sense of duty made even greater sense after she’d heard about his past. He was a man who trusted few and somehow he’d learned to compartmentalize his emotions so they wouldn’t get in the way of what needed to be done. She thought it through and reasoned that Sally might very well be right. Any attempt to get close to him could result in heartbreak. On the other hand, how could she ignore the feelings she had whenever she thought of him, and worse, how could she ignore the fantasies that sprang up when she was near him. She wanted to believe there was more to Wyatt than just wanting to have a good time. She was certain that he wanted love and security, like everyone else. He just hadn’t been able to find someone he could trust.

The sound of the door jarred Aimee from her thoughts, and for a moment she imagined what it would be like to have him come in from his chores and ask if she was asleep. She’d say no and watch him undress in the murky shadows, then she’d feel the mattress give as he climbed beneath the covers next to her. He’d nuzzle her ear and whisper suggestions of the delightful things he wanted to do to her. His hands would be chilly but when he touched her, it wouldn’t matter. She needed his touch, lived for it, ached for it.

Aimee pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, tortured by the fantasy of her own making. More specifically, one Wyatt knew nothing about. Frustrated, she swung her feet out of bed, pulled on her ragg wool socks, and groped her way to the door. She found a robe hanging on the back of it and tiptoed quietly down the hallway, relieved to see that the house appeared quiet. She entered the living room, careful not to make too much noise if Wyatt was already asleep, but as she drew closer to the couch, she realized he wasn’t there. The embers still aglow in the fireplace cast a warm light over the empty room. It was then she noticed the light from the kitchen. She drew the sash tighter on the robe and cautiously peeked around the kitchen door. Her heart came to a standstill. Seated in the middle of the stone tile floor was Wyatt, clad only in his jeans. On the floor, scattered around him, was an array of toys, everything from farm animals to tractors and sturdy metal 4x4 trucks, many with the paint and decals worn off the sides. Aimee watched from the shadows for a moment, unsure whether to disturb him.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” He spoke but didn’t look up as he returned the toys to the box.

She summoned her courage and stepped into the kitchen. “I hope it’s not the couch giving you problems. I found it quite comfortable. I’m happy to trade back.” She stuffed her hands in the robe pockets and it reminded her of Betty’s account of his finding his mother’s good-bye letter in his robe. She pulled her hands out and crossed to the refrigerator. “I thought maybe a glass of milk might help.”

He looked up, scrambled to his feet, and set the box on the table. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard. “Have a seat. I’ll get it.” He glanced at her as he poured. “How’s the head?”

It was such an ordinary moment, two friends sharing a glass of milk in the middle of the night because they couldn’t sleep, but in light of her recent thoughts, it placed things on a much grander scale. She looked at him in a different light, noticing how warm and inviting his brown eyes were. What she wouldn’t give to have kids with eyes like that. Then again, that would mean…. Aimee rested her chin in her hand and smiled at her private thoughts. “It’s better, I think.”

“So that’s not what’s keeping you awake?” he asked and placed the glass in front of her.

She doubted it was wise to explain
he
was the reason she couldn’t fall asleep. “It must have been the nap I had this afternoon. I’m not used to getting a lot of sleep.”

“Insomnia?” He picked up the toys and sat down across from her.

“Newlyweds next door.”

He glanced at her with a puzzled frown and then grinned as he realized her dilemma.

“I see.” He slowly shook his head. Picking up the box, he set the toys on the table. “I found this stuff out in the barn.” He plucked a horse statue from the box and held it up to inspect it.

Aimee tried to keep her focus on the toy and not on his incredible, muscled chest.

“I thought maybe if the kids can’t get home by Christmas morning….” He paused and looked at her. “Is it lame to think maybe they’d go for some second-hand vintage?”

Good Lord, she was smitten. This paradox of rough-hewn cowboy and softhearted Santa…the people in town knew nothing of what he was really like. She felt like she’d received her own private gift by way of the snowstorm outside. The whole package of virility, sensitivity, and charm was any sane woman’s dream. Aimee forced her brain into gear, propped her forearms on the table, and leaned toward him. “I think you are one of the most thoughtful and generous men I’ve ever met.”

He looked embarrassed by the compliment. “It’s not a big deal. I just thought it would ward off the complaints.”

Aimee rarely minced words, especially when she felt strongly about a subject. “You have this rough image you seem to think you need to portray, but deep down you’re a much different person.” She hoped this would be a turning point between them. Aside from her undeniable attraction to him, she’d been privy to a side of Wyatt she genuinely liked. The kind of
like
that could very easily turn to something deeper.

Aimee held her glass out in gesture of a toast. “Here’s to a magical Christmas.”

He tapped his glass to hers. “Magical?”

Aimee shrugged. “Deep down, at this time of year I think I become twelve again.”

He drank his milk, and she watched in appreciation how he polished it off in one long gulp. He emitted a sigh and licked his lips. She hadn’t touched hers.

“Can I ask you something?” He leaned on the table and propped his chin in his hand.

She held her glass with both hands to occupy them. “Sure.”

“What made you decide to become a teacher?”

She hadn’t expected his question.

“I mean, it’s obvious you love kids.”

Aimee chuckled. “Well, most of the time.” She stared at the half-full glass of milk and realized that for another person the glass would be half-empty. “I really have my sister to thank for that.”

“How so?”