Page 96 of His Tenth Dance

He pulled a knife from the block on the counter, grabbed a plate from the dish drainer, and opened the drawer to get out a fork.

Kristie knew he was in the middle of the harvest and didn’t have much time. She’d been extraordinarily busy this autumn too, as she dealt with an outbreak of a cattle illness on several farms, something she claimed happened when the weather changed.

But there was always time for Triple Chocolate Chip Cake with German Chocolate Filling.

He cut into the cake and removed a triangle to the plate, delighted with the rich chocolate cake on the bottom layer, the checkerboard pattern of chocolate and white cake in the middle layer, and the white cake with chocolate chips on the top layer.

As promised, a rich, coconutty German Chocolate filling rode between each layer, and Mission grinned at the cake so hard his face hurt.

He quickly pulled out his phone and took a selfie with the slice of cake, then pulled out a chair and sat down to take the first bite.

He snapped selfies of himself as he reacted to the perfectly moist cake, that nutty filling, and the rich, creamy, smooth frosting. He swiped his finger through it and took a picture of that.

He ate the whole slice of cake without wolfing it down, and then he took a few extra minutes to send Kristie every picture he’d taken, complete with captions.

I am so happy right now.

This is the best cake I’ve ever eaten.

This filling? I could bathe in it.

My new favorite frosting!

Thank you so much, kitten. I can’t wait to see you tonight.

Then, the urgency to get back to work pressed down on him, and Mission quickly pressed a piece of plastic wrap to the exposed parts of the cake, left it on the kitchen table, and headed back out to the farm.

Worry accompanied him, because now his simple gifts and dinner plans for Kristie’s birthday might not be good enough—and it was actuallyherbirthday today, not his.

He’d already texted her that morning about it, and he told himself—not for the first time—that he couldn’t be anyone but who he was. If a bracelet and a new set of mixing bowls wasn’t good enough for her, he’d rather know now. She should break upwith him and move on if dinner at her favorite restaurant didn’t make the cut.

She could find someone else who could pull out all the stops, because all Mission had done was ask Jocelyn to make her a birthday cake and have it at her house, with candles, by eight p.m. that evening. He’d planned to surprise her with the treat after their birthday dinner celebration.

“If that’s not good enough….” Mission let the words die there, but they continued to simmer and fester inside him as he made it back to the barn and pulled on a pair of gloves so he could get out to the corn fields and get the cobs coming in prettied up for their farm stand.

If that’s not good enough…then Mission wasn’t good enough.

Later that day, Mission stood on Kristie’s front steps with her gifts, his hopes up in the clouds, and a leather jacket warding off the evening chill. She answered the door wearing a dark green dress that glittered in the light, and Mission’s mouth went dry.

“Hey, cowboy.” She stepped back to let him enter, and she toed a cat out of the way.

She had a runner, so Mission stepped into the house and cleared his throat. “We have time for presents, don’t we?”

“You’re the one who made the reservation.” She followed him into the kitchen, where Mission set down her gifts and then turned back to her.

“You are a gorgeous woman,” he murmured as he found his voice. He drew her into his embrace and leaned down to kiss her. Yep, he totally loved this woman, and as he kissed her, he realized he’d never felt like this about anyone else, ever.

Still, he kept the kiss slow and simple before he pulled away and smiled at her. “We have time.” He picked up the mixing bowls, the box bigger than the amazingness of the gift inside.

“Don’t expect anything amazing,” he said, practically thrusting the box toward her.

Kristie held his gaze as she took it. “They’re wrapped amazing.” She flicked a look over to the smaller box still sitting on the counter. It had been wrapped in silver, glittery paper very unlike the pink and white striped box in her hand. “And there are two.”

“Does the number matter?” he asked.

She shook her head, her curls softly swinging back and forth as she did. “Not usually.”

He swallowed and nodded to the gift in her hand. “I did my best.”

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