She was keenly aware of Mike standing beside her, and while the children resettled in their seats, she couldn’t help sneaking a peek or two at their guest. When he looked down at her, he gave her a subtle wink and the crooked grin that had charmed her during their carriage ride. When he wasn’t growling about something, anyway.
She caught herself smiling back, then remembered where they were and quickly doused her response. But he’d noticed. The smirk he was wearing told her that much. He was probably one of those superobservant people who noticed everything that happened around him, she lamented with a sigh. Leave it to her to run across one of the last attentive males on the planet.
Anxious to move on, she clapped her hands to get the kids’ attention. “All right, everyone, let’s get in a circle on the story rug.” Once they were more or less quiet, she motioned to Mike. “You’re on.”
A flash that struck her as mild panic passed over his sunburned features, but he quickly recovered and sat down. Not in the adult-sized teacher’s chair she’d left open for him, she noticed with curiosity, but on the floor, cross-legged like the kids. Something about his desire to join them on their level made her smile. Maybe he wasn’t as standoffish as she’d assumed.
He introduced himself as a horse trainer, then opened his palms and spread them apart. “What would you guys like to know?”
Small hands shot into the air, and he answered questions ranging from how much does a horse eat to how often he cleaned their stalls. He took each one with a serious expression, and his respect for the children impressed her. Then one little boy stopped their guest cold.
“Do you still miss your dad?”
Mike’s patient smile froze in place, and he seemed to pull back into himself. Clearly, the class knew their guest much better than she did, and in an effort to save him, Lily jumped in. “Does anyone have something they want to ask about the farm?”
“No, that’s okay,” Mike said quietly. Giving the boy an understanding look, he asked, “Did your father pass away?”
“Last year.” Tears welled in his already large brown eyes, making them look even bigger. “I started baseball this year, and he’ll never get to see me play.”
Lily’s heart lurched in sympathy, but she kept quiet. Mike had connected with this child in a way she could never manage, so she thought it best to let him handle the sensitive moment.
“What’s your name, son?” he asked gently.
“Peter.”
“Well, Peter, I know it’s tough to lose your father, but you have to do your best to make him proud, even though he’s not here to see it.”
“How?”
“Do what you think he’d want you to, even if you’d rather be doing something else. Take good care of your mom ’cause she’s missing him, too. Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“Two little sisters.” Peter made a face. “They’re such a pain.”
Mike chuckled. “I hear you, but you’re the oldest, so you’ve gotta watch out for them. When things get hard, families have to stick together.”
“That’s what Mom says.”
“She’s right. Even when you think she’s not,” he added with a wink. The boy laughed and nodded, then sank back into his spot with a satisfied look.
Mike fielded several more questions, and when the kids seemed to be getting restless, Lily decided it was time to let him go.
Standing, she moved in behind him. “I’m sure we all want to thank Mr. Kinley for coming in today.” After a rousing chorus of appreciation, she held up her hands for quiet. “You have some seat work to do before our next visitor gets here. Please pick up where you left off on Friday.”
They complied with only minimal grumbling, and she motioned Mike toward the door. He looked relieved to leave the inquisitive circle behind him.
“Man,” he began in a hushed voice, “some of those kids are smarter than me.”
“I feel awful that Peter brought up your father that way.”
“It’s not your fault.” Gazing over at his daughter, he went on. “Dad died three years ago in a car accident, and it was big news around here. Abby doesn’t really remember him, but she’s heard us talk about him. I’m sure she’s told her friends all the stories by now.”
The misery clouding his eyes told Lily he was putting up a brave front to hide the sorrow he still felt over losing his dad. She adored her own father, and she couldn’t begin to imagine how painful it would be to have him jerked out of her life that way. “I’m very sorry for your family’s loss.”
“Thanks.”
The brusque response told her it was time to let the matter drop, so she moved on. “How are Penny and Ginger doing?”
“Just fine. And you? How was the rest of your sister’s reception?”
Lily thought it was sweet of him to ask how that endless afternoon had affected her, even though she hadn’t been the bride. Judging by the way his eyes were fixed on her, his concern was genuine, and she smiled. “It won’t go in my favorite-memories list, but I made it through in one piece. I have to admit, I was kind of stunned to see you here this morning.”
“I can relate to that,” he admitted with a chuckle. “When Abby said her new teacher would be here, I had no clue it’d be you. You said you were from Louisville, so I figured that’s where your school was.”
“And I had no idea Gallimore Stables was here in Oaks Crossing.”
“Yeah,” he responded with a sigh. “That’s a real problem for us. We’re working on it, though.”
“Really?” Leaning back against her desk, she eyed him with a new sense of respect. Apparently, the gruff carriage driver had more going for him than his rugged good looks. “How?”
“Dad trained Thoroughbreds for racing, and he was one of the best.” Mike paused, and the pride gleaming in his eyes told her just how much he still admired his father. “Obviously, with him gone, that business went away, so we’ve had to come up with something else so we can afford to keep the place. My sister thought of the wedding carriages, and we put a sign on the back to get folks out to the farm and see what all is there.”
Lily was fascinated. She’d lived her entire life in cities, and to her one farm was pretty much like another. “What else is there?”
“Last fall, we started up the Oaks Crossing Rescue Center, for injured and abandoned animals. We take in everything from gerbils to draft horses. Yesterday, someone dropped off a beaver with a broken leg, of all things. We figure if people come in and see all the animals for themselves, we can help more wild critters get back into the woods and the pets will have a better chance of finding a home. If you’re interested, you can come by sometime. I’d be happy to show you around the farm or the center, whichever you want.”
That he was part of such a generous endeavor impressed her enough that she decided her earlier impression of him as being standoffish was due more to her own bad mood the other day than his actual personality. “I’d enjoy seeing both, I’m sure. So many people talk about doing something important, but they never find a way to make it happen.”
“Yeah, well, I like animals better than most people I meet, so it works for me.”
She clicked her tongue in disapproval. “You don’t mean that.”
“Actually, I do.” His flinty gaze softened a bit, and he almost smiled. “Most of the time, anyway.”
She was getting the distinct impression that he was as intrigued by her as she was by him. Whether it was their vastly different backgrounds or their polar-opposite personalities, she couldn’t say. But she couldn’t