“Huh.” He spun her around. “I think that may already have happened.”
“What?” Olivia groaned.
Please, please, please let this not be happening.
He leaned down close to her ear. The music was so loud it was nearly impossible to carry on a conversation, even as close as they were—and they were close. Much too close for Olivia’s liking. She couldn’t seem to be able to still her racing pulse. She coached herself to breathe evenly, but all that did was cause her to get another good whiff of Clint’s masculine scent. He must be wearing too much. It was making her giddy.
“It’s just one dance. We’ll pacify Miss Betty’s penchant for matchmaking, and then we can walk away from each other and go on with our separate lives. Your boys will forget about me the second I’m gone. Sound good?”
Good was an understatement. She wasn’t comfortable with the myriad of emotions coursing through her, and the sooner she got out of Clint’s arms, the better.
As large as he was, and for someone who didn’t dance much, Clint had a natural rhythm. He took the lead, but subtly and surprisingly gently. He twirled her around until her head was spinning. She refused to believe that her rapid breathing had anything to do with the man who held her in his arms.
Olivia sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving when the music ended. Now, as Clint had said, they’d each go their own way, only slightly worse for the wear. She glanced around, looking for the boys.
“They’re over there,” Clint said, pointing to the far end of the room. It was a little disconcerting that it seemed as if he’d read her mind. “My foster mother, Libby, rounded them up and got them all cookies and punch while we were dancing.”
It bothered Olivia that while Clint had been keeping his eyes on her children, she’d been completely lost in their dance. What must he think of her?
Heat rose to her cheeks. Again. She didn’t fluster easily, and yet her interaction with Clint tonight had her thoughts going every which way including loose. She didn’t like feeling scatterbrained.
It didn’t help matters when he flashed a lady-killer grin and enveloped her hand in his.
“Don’t worry. Libby has been a foster parent for years. She’s great with kids.”
“I can see that. And I wasn’t worried.” Olivia was mortified at her own conduct, maybe, but she wasn’t worried about her children.
“There now, you see?” Libby said to Clint as they approached. “Aren’t you glad you took my advice and asked Olivia to dance? You two made such a lovely couple out there. You were obviously enjoying yourselves.”
Olivia gasped and then choked on her breath, feeling as if she’d just been hit behind the knees. It was a wonder she didn’t fall over.
So that was the reason Clint had asked her to dance—and had been so intent on it. Not because he wanted to dance with her, or even, as he’d said, to pacify Miss Betty. Rather, he was favoring his foster mother’s request.
Olivia’s cheeks burned. She couldn’t imagine why Clint’s motivation mattered in the least. She’d been going to turn him down before the triplets got involved. And yet there it was—that small niggling feeling of rejection worming its way through her chest.
She was being ridiculous. This train had to stop now, before it jumped the tracks.
“Thanks for taking care of my sons.” Happily, her voice had returned to normal, even if her knees were still shaking.
“It’s absolutely been my pleasure,” Libby responded with a kind, maternal smile. “You have some really wonderful boys right here. Three special blessings.”
“Yes, they are.” At least that was something they could all agree on.
“They’ve been telling me all about how their daddy used to take them camping and climbing, just like Clint.”
Olivia’s stomach lurched. The triplets had been only four years old at the time and she didn’t know how much they remembered about Luke, who’d been a passionate outdoor enthusiast.
In fact, she’d lost Luke to a rock climbing accident, although she’d never shared that information with the triplets. Maybe when they were older and were in a better place to be able to understand. But for now she kept it silent and close to her heart.
“As it happens, my Clint here is a trail guide. He works full-time in the Deep Gulch Mountains teaching camping skills and wilderness survival tactics to young folks just like these handsome fellas. Your sons would love it.”
Olivia nodded, more to be polite than really agreeing with Clint’s foster mother. “I’m sure they would,” she murmured courteously.
“Perfect,” Libby exclaimed. “Clint can take your boys on a day trip, a beginner’s challenge, and teach them all about wilderness safety. That would be fun, wouldn’t it, Clint? Do you have a weekend opening where you can fit them in?”
Clint’s wide-eyed gaze traveled from Olivia to Libby and back again. He looked as if he’d just swallowed a porcupine. Olivia felt exactly the same way and knew her expression probably mirrored his.
Unfortunately, the boys had been listening to the conversation. At Libby’s suggestion, all three started cheering and chattering on about what they were going to learn when they went out with Mr. Clint.
Which was never going to happen. There was no way Olivia was going to allow her boys to go up into those mountains again, not even with a trail guide as experienced as she imagined Clint must be. Certainly not until they were much, much older, and even then Olivia knew she would have reservations. If Luke, who’d been a master rock climber, could meet his death climbing, who knew what could happen to three rambunctious six-year-olds?
There were too many variables.
Even if her fears didn’t play into the equation, she wouldn’t be inclined to let her children go anywhere with Clint. He might be a wonderful trail guide, but what did he know about kids? He’d been gentle and patient tonight, but she had no doubt her boys would wear him down in a flash. Olivia knew from experience what mischief they could get into in a short amount of time.
She shook her head. This had to stop now.
* * *
What was Libby thinking, offering his services without consulting him first? Clint rocked back on his heels and threaded his fingers through his hair. He was supposed to be done with Olivia Barlow, not planning to take her kids on an outing.
The dance was supposed to be the end of this fiasco. Now, apparently, it was just the beginning.
Even a beginner’s challenge would be difficult for a six-year-old, never mind three of them. He might be able to keep their attention for a little while, but a day trip? Not so much. He imagined they’d be little terrors out there in the woods, running off in every direction at the drop of a hat. How on earth was he going to keep track of them and keep them reeled in? The very thought made him shudder.
But he could hardly beg off after Libby had made the suggestion. He pressed his lips together to keep
