Skye didn’t say so, but she’d begun to feel her biological clock ticking. If she only wanted one or two kids, it wouldn’t matter so much, but she had her heart set on a half dozen babies. Minimum. She’d always wanted to be part of a big family. Since her parents had chosen not to give her lots of siblings—only an older brother and sister—she intended to create that large family for herself. With the help of that still-elusive husband.
“Close your eyes,” her mom said. As soon as Skye obeyed, her mom took the scissors to her bangs, leaving them long but giving them shape. Snip. Snip. Snip. “All right. You’re done. Hardly worth the time of coming into the salon, far as I can tell.”
Skye laughed. “You wouldn’t want me cutting my own hair, would you?”
“Heaven forbid! Remember what you did when you were five?”
“Yeah, but like you said, I was five.” As soon as the cape was off, Skye stood and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. “Love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, baby girl. I hope Snickers is all right.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you know.”
She stepped outside a few moments later, intent on getting over to the pasture before the vet. So intent was she that she almost mowed down an unexpected passerby on the sidewalk.
“Whoa, there,” a deep voice said. Strong hands gripped her upper arms and steadied her.
Skye looked up into the face of a stranger. He was rugged looking with a bit of mischief in his blue-green eyes and one of those I-haven’t-shaved-for-a-few-days beards that she liked on cowboys. He wasn’t movie-star handsome, but there was something about his looks that made her heart behave erratically.
Who is this guy?
“Sorry, miss.” Grant Nichols released his hold on the young woman’s arms and took a step back. “Hope I didn’t hurt you.”
She shook her head, and her straight black hair waved across her narrow shoulders.
“Maybe you can help me. Is there a dance studio around here?”
Her eyes widened. Big, brown, doe-like eyes. “Yes.” She pointed. “Around that corner and to the right.”
“Thanks.”
“But it’s closed now.”
He almost said a curse word but managed to swallow it. The BC Grant—the Before Christ version—had cursed all the time. Breaking himself of that habit had been tough. It was just one of the reasons he’d kept to himself most of the time since arriving in Kings Meadow. God had delivered him of other bad habits, but the impulse to swear had hung on for dear life for the past four years.
“Maybe I can help you,” she added, watching him closely. “I’m the owner of the studio.”
Every other thought fled. “You’re Skye Foster? Just the gal I’m supposed to see. I’m Grant Nichols. One of Buck Malone’s groomsmen. He told me to talk to you about those lessons you’re giving the wedding party.”
“Oh. Of course. I recognize your name, but we’ve never actually met. Have we?”
“No, we haven’t.” And I’m sure sorry about that.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you now. As for the lessons, they’ll start next week. We’ll meet every Tuesday night until the wedding.”
“That’s my first problem. I work on Tuesday nights. Buck thought you and I might be able to work out a different schedule for me.”
“I suppose I could do that.” She tipped her head slightly to one side. “But if that’s your first problem, what’s your second?”
“Miss Foster, I’ve got two left feet.”
She laughed.
Man, what a smile. Perhaps he’d been too successful at keeping himself separate from the general population if her smile was what he’d been missing.
“I’m sure that’s not true, Mr. Nichols. Anybody can learn to dance.”
“Oh, it’s true. Ask every girl who’s ever had the misfortune to coax me onto a dance floor. They’re probably still sporting bruises and broken toes, years later.”
She shook her head again. Then she reached into the back pocket of her jeans and fished out a business card. “Listen, I have an appointment that I can’t be late for. Call me at this number. If I’m not in, leave a message and I’ll call you back. And don’t worry. We’ll find a time that will work, and I’ll have you dancing like a pro by the wedding. I love a challenge.”
He took the card and read it. Skye Foster, Two-Step Dance Studio.
“Please excuse me, Mr. Nichols—”
“Call me Grant.”
“Okay, Grant. But I’ve gotta run. I’ll talk to you soon.”
She stepped around him and hurried to the silver Toyota Tacoma parked at the curb. She hopped into the cab with no problem, despite looking too petite to drive such a rig. The engine started, and Skye drove away.
Grant stood there for a few moments, feeling winded by the encounter. Then he grinned. He’d dreaded taking the lessons, and only his friendship with Buck had made him agree to it. But suddenly it didn’t seem like a terrible idea after all. The weeks until the wedding might turn out to be a whole lot of fun.