Page 29 of His Tenth Dance

They reached the corner of the barn, and Trevor ran off to climb into his mother’s minivan.

Zach paused and looked around. “I don’t see my dad.”

To Mission’s relief, he spotted Cosette Whettstein standing several feet down near the front doors of the administration building. She ran the behind-the-scenes at Pony Power with utmost precision. As Mission had been drawing paychecks from both the farm and the equine therapy unit for years—two separate entities housed on the same land—Cosette kept everything straight, proper, and running according to tax laws.

“I’m gonna have you go wait with Cosette,” Mission said to Zach. “Is that all right?”

He nodded down toward the front doors, and Zach started moving that way. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“See you next week,” he called to the boy, who turned around and walked backward for a couple of steps as he waved good-bye.

Mission smiled and waved back, and the moment he could, he spun on his heel and headed for his cabin. He usually only drove to town for groceries or church, and he’d never minded the walk to and from work. Today, though, it felt like a constant thorn in his side as he hurried down the lane, past the farmhouse, and through the Hammond’s backyard.

Even then, he still had to walk the long road to the very back of Cowboy Row, where the foreman’s cabin stood two stories tall while all the other cabins were only one.

And Kristie’s car already sat in his driveway.

“Great,” he muttered.

He wiped the sweat from his face and told himself everything would be fine. It was pizza and a sunset, and she wouldn’t care if he took ten minutes to shower. They’d have to wait for the pizza anyway.

As he drew closer to the cabin, he realized Kristie sat on his front steps. She wore a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a sleeveless blouse in lavender. She seemed haloed above with light from heaven—or maybe that was just how Mission perceived her.

Her focus stayed down on her phone, but Mission couldn’t look anywhere but at her.

She glanced up, finally, and Mission raised his hand in a wave, though he still had half the distance to go to reach her.

She got to her feet and pushed her phone into her back pocket as she came down the steps. From several yards away, she called, “Your truck was here, so I thought you’d be home.”

“Just finishing up the horseback riding lessons,” he said, his stride long and eating up the distance between them quickly.

When he reached her, he slid one hand along her waist to her back and leaned in as if he might kiss her on the mouth, right there for anyone to see.

Mission had kissed plenty of women, and the movement felt natural to him. But his brain screamed at him that he hadnotkissed this woman yet—and he certainly didn’t want the first time to happen in broad daylight where any number of cowboys could see and then tease him about it.

“Hey, kitten,” he said, slowing his forward motion. He lifted his chin too, and that got his lips closer to her temple. He swept a kiss there and then stepped back easily, curling her fingers between his.

“How was your day?” It felt like such a mundane question to ask, but Kristie smiled and tilted her head back so that she faced the sky.

“It was a great day,” she said. “I helped a cocker spaniel deliver some puppies, and then I did some cattle immunizations out at Southby’s.”

“The puppies sound nice,” he said.

“They are the cutest thingsever.” Kristie smiled over at him. “What about you? You seem busy around here.”

“No busier than any other day.”

They went back up his front steps to the porch. When Matt had lived here, Gloria always had something welcoming anyone who came to the house—a seasonal sign in red, white, and blue for the Fourth of July, pumpkins at Halloween, and scarecrows and Santa Clauses at appropriate times throughout the year.

“I just had to finish up with the kids,” he said. “And I figured it would be okay if I grabbed a shower while you figured out what kind of pizza you want.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kristie said. “Where are you going to order from?”

“I was thinking San Diego’s,” Mission said. “They have a pan-style pizza that’s been calling my name for a couple of days.”

She laughed, the sound glorious and wonderful. “Ah, now I know why you suggested pizza.”

“If you’d rather we got something else?—”

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