arms around her waist. The boys had realized she wasn’t following them and had returned to her side. “I thought we were going to get cookies.”
“We’re hungry,” Levi added, tugging on her arm.
“So am I.” Take a hint, Clint.
“It’s my fault she stopped,” Clint said with a chuckle. “I asked your mother to dance, but she hasn’t answered me yet.” He crouched down to the triplets’ level. “Let me in on a secret. Does your mama dance, boys?”
“Yes. Yes. She’s a really good dancer,” Caleb exclaimed.
“Yeah,” Levi agreed. “She used to be a bal’rina when she was a little girl.”
Clint chuckled. “Well, I don’t know how much good her extensive ballet training will do with the Texas two-step, but I’m willing to give it a go. How about it, Mama? Shall we show your boys how it’s done?”
“Dance, Mama. Dance.” The boys echoed each other. All three were physically pushing and pulling her toward Clint. Her face had to be a flaming red. It was too crowded in the hall and the temperature was set too high.
“C’mon, Olivia. Let’s give your boys something to talk about.” He stood and extended his hand to her.
Her gaze swept from one eager young face to the next. She didn’t want them to be talking about their mother and Clint sharing a dance, but how could she disappoint them when they looked at her that way?
“I—er—okay.”
His hand, rough with calluses, engulfed hers, but that wasn’t the half of it. This entire set of circumstances was swallowing her whole—and she knew who to blame for it. It was all Clint Daniels’s fault.
“Cheap tactics,” she muttered as he pulled her into his arms. “Using my boys to get me to agree to this. Low blow, if you ask me.”
He leaned back to meet her gaze and then chuckled. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“Don’t encourage them.”
“No worries.” He pulled her closer so she had no choice except to rest her cheek on his shoulder. His hand easily spanned her waist. She was vibrantly aware of his nearness, the deep rhythm of his breath and the warm musk of his aftershave. His shoulder muscles rippled under her palm.
Everything she should not be noticing about him.
“Maybe you don’t think so, but I’d rather not put ideas into their heads. It’s bad enough that they discovered the valentine Miss Betty wrote that matched me up with you. Dancing? Only going to make it worse.”
His chest rumbled with laughter. “So that’s what it was. I was wondering why they chose to share the valentines they’d written with me.”
“Exactly. If we’re not careful, they’ll be lobbying for you to be their new dad. I’m sure that wasn’t what you had in mind when you showed up here tonight.”
“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