“Cordelia Johnson.” Ms. Reston searched her list. “Here you are. And here’s your name tag. And you are…” She looked Chance up and down, then back at her list. “Jack Smith.”
“Yep, that’s me.” Chance took the name tag from her with a smile. “Ready to learn about having babies.”
Ms. Reston cocked an eyebrow. “You a rancher?”
Chance had left his hat in the truck, but Ms. Reston had clocked him anyway. It was probably the jeans and the boots. Chance didn’t wear anything but.
“Yes, ma’am. Fifth generation. Pulled my fair share of calves?—”
She snapped up a hand. “No. None of your stories here. I don’t want these parents to hear about stuck calves, downed cows, broken pelvises, milk fever, mastitis”—she pinned him with a stare—“Any. Of. It. Do you understand?”
Chance felt like he’d been smacked upside the head. Cordy was watching the two of them with her mouth hanging open.
He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t…” But hehadbeen about to brag about his experience with delivering cows. Well, a bragwrapped in a joke. People liked that. It cut the tension. It made things easy.
If Chance got them kicked out of here, nothing would be easy.
He swallowed hard, tried again. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “No calving stories. I understand.”
“You’d better. I’ve kicked people out before, you know.”
“I believe it,” Chance said.
“And don’t be telling her those stories, either.” Ms. Reston pointed to Cordy. “A woman is not a cow.”
“He’s not perfect.” Cordy’s mouth twitched. “But I assure you, he’s never compared me to a cow.”
“Good,” Ms. Reston said. “But that’s a very low bar to clear.” She handed over a folder stuffed with papers. “Here’s everything you’ll need for the class.”
Chance grabbed it before Cordy could because that stack looked heavy enough to break her wrist.
“Thank you.” Cordy’s tone had a nervous edge. “We’re looking forward to this.”
Ms. Reston gave her a gentle smile. “You’ll do great. You’redoinggreat.”
Cordy went pale and still. For a moment, Chance was terrified she was going to bust out crying, she looked that stunned. He couldn’t figure out why, since the woman had just complimented her.
Crying wasn’t the way Cordy wanted to walk into this place. Chance tried to think of a way to snap her out of it.
But she took a deep breath and pulled herself out. “Thanks,” she said. “We can sit anywhere?”
Ms. Reston nodded.
As they walked into the classroom, Chance leaned into Cordy’s ear, pitching his voice low. “Jack Smith? That’s like two letters away from John Doe. What was your plan with that?”
She lifted her face so that they were practically cheek to cheek. “I put that name down so I could register,” she whispered. “I figured I’d tell themJackwas stuck in traffic and trying to get here. Then he’d have an emergency at work. Then he’d be sick. I haven’t come up with an excuse for the fourth session yet.”
“You don’t need an excuse. Jack’s right here.”
Cordy put her hand to his arm. Her touch burned. “Thank you for being here. I really do appreciate it.”
Chance canted his head so he could look right into her stunning eyes. If anyone saw them, they’d look like a couple having an intimate moment and not two people planning to put one over on everyone.
“You don’t have to thank me.” His voice was strangely gruff. “I told you that.”
Had he? He couldn’t remember. But he didn’t want her to do it again. It was making him feel weird.
“Let’s sit down before we get yelled at,” he said.
