Jenna had no idea what was in the kit but was not surprised that Dax was ready for any eventuality. Any man who could help birth a baby by the side of the road could handle anything.
The mare rose slightly and strained.
Jenna gasped. “There’s his head. Oh, Dax. Look, there he comes.”
Dax, who’d been watching the birth, turned to watch Jenna. Instead of feeling self-conscious, Jenna laughed, happy, excited and filled with wonder as the tiny foal slipped onto the clean straw.
“Oh, oh, oh.” Tears filled her eyes. In a voice of wonder, she whispered, “Is he okay?”
It occurred to her then that Dax may have felt this way the day Sophie was born. Anxious and awed and overwhelmed by the beauty of new life.
Dax’s voice was soft, too. “Watch his mama work. She knows what to do.”
Sure enough, the mare pushed to a stand and turned to her newborn, instinctively stimulating and warming him with her tongue. As she did so, Dax examined the foal, applied antiseptic to the umbilical cord and stepped away, motioning Jenna to join him.
Together they watched the mother care for her baby. When the foal struggled to stand, Jenna’s whole body tensed with the effort. “Come on, baby. You can do it.”
The spotted foal wobbled up. Jenna turned to Dax, realizing for the first time that she held his hand in a death grip. He smiled into her eyes. She smiled back. He took a step closer. She stood her ground. When his calloused rancher’s hand slid beneath her hair and caressed her neck, she shivered. He looked pleased by her reaction. Slowly, he titled her face up and brought his down. Jenna’s fingers roamed up the front of his open jacket, over the muscular chest and shoulders to twine in the hair at his nape. She breathed in and let her eyes fall closed as Dax’s warm, supple mouth caressed hers.
Sensation washed through her. Desire and hope and love and the belief that this was right and good. He kissed her until her heart hammered in her throat and her knees quivered. When at last the glorious torture ended, he went on holding her in his arms. His breath came in soft rasps against her hair. He took one of her hands and pressed it to his heart. The powerful beat hammered against her palm.
Holding his beautiful green eyes with her gaze, she returned the favor, pressing his big hand to her chest. His nostrils flared and he smiled softly.
Without words, they communicated the flood of emotions rushing in and around them. The feelings were too new and raw to express aloud. At least for Jenna. She wanted to believe she wasn’t being a fool and that Dax felt the same.
Behind her, the mare and foal rustled and moved about as the newborn searched for his first meal.
Jenna longed to stay in Dax’s warm embrace but a sound from the baby monitor in her pocket ended the moment.
“I should go,” she murmured, hearing the tremor in the words.
As he stepped away, Dax dragged a hand over his face and nodded. “Yes. You should. Go.”
Jenna tilted her head, trying to gauge his meaning. Gone was the loving look of moments before. An anxious moth fluttered in her chest. What was he not saying?
Maybe he kissed women in the barn all the time. Maybe this meant nothing to him. Maybe she was still the gullible girl that had fallen for Derek.
“Dax?”
He heaved a great sigh. “I apologize. That shouldn’t have happened.”
He’d kissed her twice in the space of a few hours and it shouldn’t have happened? She couldn’t believe this.
What was going on inside that complicated head of his?
She stared, waiting with a fragile hope that he would explain.
He clenched his fist and averted his eyes.
Jutting her chin, she said, “No need to apologize. I’m a grown woman and, in case you didn’t notice, I was not resisting.”
Then with head held high, she rushed outside, the chill in her heart far colder than the December night.
Dax called himself ten kinds of fool and uttered every curse word stored in his memory banks. It was a good thing horses didn’t speak English or the mare would have chased him out of the stall.
What had he been thinking to kiss Jenna, not once but twice? The first time he’d convinced himself was to comfort her after the ugly scene with Rowdy. He had no excuse for this second time. He should never have asked her into the barn. He should have left well enough alone. She was his housekeeper, not a girlfriend. His indecently young housekeeper.
At least Rowdy was close to her age. Dax had no excuse at all. No excuse except for the fact that he was falling for her. One minute they’d been admiring the new foal, then he’d gazed into those warm brown eyes so filled with the same wonder he always felt at a birthing, and he’d seen a woman after his own heart. A woman who’d returned his kiss with a hungry innocence that turned his insides to jelly. His brain had shorted out. That’s all there was to it. He had better self-discipline than to do such a thing.