Chapter 6
six
K ristie enjoyed the stillness and silence of the summer night as she dropped out of Mission’s truck for a second time that evening. “Dinner was great,” she said. “I’ve only done a dessert fondue; I didn’t know you could do all those meats in different broths.”
He reached over and secured her hand in his. “I’m glad you liked it.”
The conversation had been easy during dinner, and they’d talked about her cats, the food, her favorite desserts to eat, the ones she liked to bake, and how long they’d each been in Ivory Peaks.
She’d skirted questions about where she’d moved from, and she’d noticed Mission hadn’t spent any time on his childhood either. She had asked him about his grandfather, and Mission didn’t seem to have a problem talking about him—but nothing about any siblings, his parents, or even his grandmother.
Kristie hadn’t pushed the issue, because she didn’t feel like opening that can of worms for herself, at least on the first date.
“So,” she said as he led her through the dirt parking area and toward the Summer Stroll. Twilight had started to blanket the town, and Kristie felt twenty years younger, reverting to her teenage self who’d gone to the fair to meet boys and ride the Ferris wheel with the cutest one.
She already had the most handsome man holding her hand, the lights of the food trucks on the parallel line to the booths, and the cooling evening air. All of it combined brought pure happiness to her heart.
“So…what?” Mission asked.
“That woman at the restaurant,” she said. “She called you Mish.”
“Yeah,” he said. “A lot of people do.”
“Do they?”
“Sure,” he said. “My friends; people who know me.”
She bumped him with her hip. “I guess it’s better than ‘kitten’.”
Mission made a choking sound, his hand tightening in hers. “That just came out,” he said. “I don’t….” He trailed off, a somewhat frustrated sigh seeping from between his lips a moment later.
“Well, I’d say I don’t have to call you that, but I kind of liked it.”
“What made you think of the word kitten?” She slowed as they approached the first booth, which had wood-burned crafts.
“The cats acting as sentinels in your front window,” Mission said. “And maybe a touch of panic.”
She smiled over to him and moved to the next booth. “That magazine said the music starts at nine-thirty.”
“Yeah,” he said. “If you don’t want to stay that long, it’s fine.”
“Will there be dancing?” She reached out and touched one of the dog bandanas in the next booth—everything for pets, including bedazzled collars and leashes, as well as treats for cats, dogs, and horses.
“I’m not sure,” Mission said just as casually as she’d asked. “Would you dance with me if there was?”
Her mind fractured for a moment, part of it flying back to the one and only time he’d asked her to dance at Opal Hammond’s wedding.
“Yes, I would,” she said.
“Then I hope there’s a dance floor,” he said. “You never really gave me a chance to show you my dance skills.”
“Oh, you have dance skills?”
He leaned closer, and the nearness of him made her shiver. “I have so many skills you don’t know about.” He straightened, gave her a sexy smile, and stopped in front of the next booth.
“Maybe my granddad would like a new wallet.” He picked up one such item, then set it down a moment later. “Who am I kidding? He likes to pick out his own things, and he’s very picky.”
Kristie nudged him with her hip again. “He reminds me of you.”
“You think so?” He looked over to her. “You think I’m stubborn?”
“I think you like things done a certain way.”
“On the job, sure,” he said. “There is a right way—and a procedure—for how things are done on the farm.” He shot her another grin and sauntered toward the next booth, gently tugging her along with him. “But I’m not nearly so rigid in my personal life.”
“If you say so,” she said, very aware of the teasing, flirtatious tone of her voice.
Jocelyn would be so proud, and she’d never be able to tell Lennie about this shameless behavior.
Harper would tell her to lay it on even thicker, and she focused on the next booth down, looking away from Mission to hopefully hide her smile.
“At the risk of me bringing up your shoes again,” he said. “You’re the one wearing…questionable footwear for dancing.”
Kristie looked down at her flowery Crocs. “I love these shoes. I can do anything in them.”
“Making a mental note of that,” Mission said, his Flirt set on high too. Kristie realized she hadn’t truly allowed herself to see any other side of him, other than the stoic, observant, quiet cowboy who’d once insulted her boots.
“Tell me what you like to do when you’re not on the farm.”
“Ah, let’s see.” Mission exhaled out and looked up into the sky. “I like to go horseback riding. Play the guitar. Find new restaurants and try them out.” He glanced over to her. “You?”
“Have you ever done the Dancing Wolves Trail—it’s horseback only, and absolutely incredible.”
Mission stopped right in the middle of the walkway, with plenty of people streaming past them on both sides. “I’ve done it a few times with Deacon. It is beautiful up there.” He tilted his head at her, curiosity burning in those dark, dreamy eyes. “Do you have a horse that can handle that trail?”
Kristie swallowed, sudden nerves bumping in the pulse in her neck. “I go with friends,” she said.
“The baking friends?”
She shook her head and couldn’t quite hold his gaze for much longer. She started walking again, and he easily fell to her side. “No, some friends of…my brother.”
“I see.”
No, he didn’t, but Kristie didn’t explain further. She’d have to tell him eventually, but the first strains of music came from the parallel stroll, and she turned that way, thinking, No, you won’t have to tell him unless you keep dating.
But one look over to him, and she wanted him to ask her out again. So she slid her hand up his arm and then reached over with her right one, clasping his arm in both of hers. “We can cut through up here and go listen to the band.”
“I thought you liked the shops in the Stroll,” he said.
She smiled at him, because this cowboy had planned the perfect date.
“Yeah, I do,” she said. “But they’ll be here for another week, and I just like looking.
” She pressed in close to him as more people started cutting through on the marked path between the shops and the food booths. “I’d love to see the entertainment.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mission said, and they joined the flow of the crowd over to the parallel Stroll.
Kristie didn’t normally love crowds, and she noted Mission seemed more tense now as well.
She wasn’t sure why, but a thrill replaced all of her worries when she spotted the dance floor laid out in front of the stage.
Musicians moved about on stage, setting up various stringed instruments, and she nodded toward them. “What are all of those?”
“That guy in the blue shirt has a banjo,” he said. “There are two fiddles on top of the piano. An upright bass—that’s the big one over on the right.”
“Acoustic guitar,” she said. “I know that one.”
“And the woman in the red has a mandolin,” he said. “They probably have a resonator guitar too, but I don’t see it right now….”
“All right, folks,” a man called into the microphone. “Find a seat or find a partner, because we’ve got Foxtrot on the stage, ready to turn even the shyest cowboys into amazing dance partners!”
Kristie grinned, because she couldn’t wait to stand within the circle of Mission’s arms, feel the weight of his pulse against hers, breathe in the scent of his clothes, his cologne.
A man started plucking the upright bass, the deep thrum of it filling the space with energy, lighting up the sky with sound.
The acoustic guitar joined the bass, and a fiddle came in, and Kristie absolutely sank into the vibe of the music streaming from the stage. People flooded the dance floor, setting themselves up in long lines to go with the upbeat rhythm provided by the band.
There didn’t seem to be room for even two more, and Mission nodded to a couple of seats on the end of a row. Kristie went first, and he quickly followed to sit beside her. He put his arm around her, and she easily snuggled into his side the way she’d seen other couples do in this exact situation.
She hadn’t had a boyfriend in a while, and she felt warm and cared for at Mission’s side. She told herself she might feel like this in another man’s arms, but the thought didn’t sit well in her mind.
No, she wouldn’t. Mission Redbay possessed some magical charm that she really liked, even if he had insulted her boots the first time they’d met. She didn’t have to hold it against him forever, and she smiled up to the stage, clapping along to the beat of the poppy-bluegrassy music.
The fast-paced song ended, and the crowd whooped and hollered. The band easily slid into their next tune—a slower ballad—and Mission got to his feet. He offered her his hand, and she watched his eyebrows go up, a silent invitation for a dance.
She put her hand in his and let him help her to her feet. He led her onto the dance floor as others left it. The band settled into the slower song, and all of Kristie’s fantasies about slow-dancing with Mission came true.
He moved effortlessly for one of his height, and he held her with just the right amount of pressure against her back. He rubbed one thumb in a slow circle and kept his head bent low toward hers.
Her phone vibrated in her back pocket, but Kristie ignored it. Whoever was calling her at nearly ten p.m. on a Saturday night could wait. The only people she’d pick up for knew she had a date with Mission tonight, and Lennie, Jocelyn, and Harper wouldn’t be calling right now.
That fact made her heart squeeze a bit too tight, and Mission murmured, “You okay?”
“Yes,” she whispered back.
“You tensed up.”
She tilted her head back. “I’m okay.”
He searched her face, then blinked, his expression softening. “All right, kitten.” The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth before he pressed his cheek to hers and kept her swaying back and forth on the hard tiles which had been laid over the grass here in the downtown park.
She appreciated that he simply accepted her declaration that she was okay…and then held her closer, which only made her feel more protected, more cherished, and like what he’d said back at the fondue restaurant could be true.
He didn’t want another man looking at her, and if they did, he wanted them to know she wasn’t available.
Because she was with him.
The song ended, and another began. This one had a faster tempo, and Mission stepped back, a sly grin on his face. “Can you really dance in those Crocs?”
She put her hands in his, ready for the swing dance several other couples had already begun. “I told you, these are my dancing shoes.”
“Let’s see then.” Mission pulled her toward him, whooping like the pure country cowboy he was. Kristie laughed, the noise flowing out of her mouth in a steady stream that honestly barely sounded like her.
She hadn’t danced like this in a long time, as she thought she’d gone past the age where she could let loose in a public park and do so.
But dance she did, grinning as Mission spun her effortlessly and always, always brought her right back to him.
Even if she’d stumbled, Mission wouldn’t have let her fall.
Her phone rang again just as the song ended, and she ignored it once more as she fell into Mission’s arms, trying to catch her breath.
“Well, those shoes passed the test, kitten.” He swept his lips along her temple. “Answer your phone, okay? It’s making me anxious, and I don’t believe it’s not bothering you too.”
“It’s probably nothing,” she said, as several minutes had passed between calls. The moment she stopped speaking, her phone buzzed again.
“I’m going to take it out of your pocket,” he said, and it sounded like a warning.
She gaped at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I don’t care if you answer it.”
The new song that had started was a piano solo, and Kristie tugged her phone out of her pocket and edged off the dance floor. She frowned at the name on the screen—Johnny Clovis—and she tilted it toward Mission, who’d come with her.
“What could he want?”
“Another man you never answered?” Mission teased, though he had to know Johnny was ten years older than him and happily married. “Answer him.” He pointed to the screen. “He’s called three times.”
Kristie swiped on the call, her heartbeat suddenly flinging itself against her ribcage. “Johnny?” she asked. “What’s going on?”
“Praise the Lord you answered,” he breathed out. “I’ve got a mare in labor, and the placenta appeared before the foal.”
Kristie turned and started walking away immediately. “How long ago?” He’d called three times, and regret lanced through her like a hot knife. “We knew she was going into labor about fifteen minutes ago, but Alan just now saw the placenta.”
“I’m in downtown Ivory Peaks,” she said, glancing over when Mission caught up to her. “I can be there in ten minutes, and I’ll stay on the phone with you and Alan to direct you.”
Mission jogged ahead of her to get the truck door’s unlocked and himself in the driver’s seat. “Put gloves on,” she said as she ran to catch up. She didn’t want to leave the lights and music behind, but she couldn’t stay on a date when a mare and her foal could possibly pass away.
“You need to sterilize a pair of scissors, and?—”
“I know what to do,” Johnny said. “I still want you here as fast as possible, but we’ll try to get the foal out as quick as we can.”
“I’ll get there as fast as I can,” she promised, and she launched herself into Mission’s truck and slammed the door. “Tell me everything you’re doing; everything you see.” She nodded to Mission, who wasted no time in getting them away from the Summer Stroll.
Kristie hated that their first date had to end this way, but she hoped she could still somehow get another dinner and dancing invitation from Mission once she delivered this foal and made sure the mama mare was okay.