Chapter 6

6

TRISTAN

S omething had just happened. Tristan wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew just by the look on Mathew's face. He wasn't happy about something. It might have been something Dianna had said, but it was more likely that Mathew's reaction dealt more with not wanting to be done. According to the time on Tristan's watch, they were due to return the horse to the barn.

Tristan nearly lurched forward. Mathew could be really difficult when he didn't want to comply with the rules. He was just about to hop over the barrier that divided him from the two in the arena when Mathew pointed forward, then nodded. The horse started walking once more, and when they came closer, he waited for an explanation.

Dianna smiled at him. "Mathew has requested we take one more turn around the arena before we head back to your cabin. We'll be done shortly."

His gaze flicked to his son, finding him beaming. The tightness in Tristan's chest eased somewhat, confusion replacing the worry. Dianna was still a new person in Mathew's life. Usually, he needed to transition to a frame of mind where he accepted his new teacher's authority. This transition typically took a few weeks. Somehow Dianna had skipped this step, and he couldn't for the life of himself understand why.

What had she said?

He was still dumbfounded as they made their way toward the barn. Mathew wanted to continue riding on the way back, so that left Dianna to guide the horse with the lead rope. He walked beside her, itching to ask her what kind of magical powers she possessed to get Mathew to comply.

The question burned in the back of his throat. If he knew what she'd said, maybe he could use the same strategy with future teachers.

When he'd finally gotten the courage to ask her, praying he didn't offend her like he had before, they'd arrived at the barn but she'd moved away.

Mathew knew he was being talked about. That happened frequently when they started seeing someone new. But once they got into a routine, it frustrated him when that sort of thing continued. He wouldn't take kindly to Tristan pulling Dianna aside to speak to her about their sessions when he was present.

Tristan would have to ask her later how she'd managed to avoid a meltdown.

Over the next fifteen minutes, Dianna reviewed with Mathew how to brush the right way so as to not upset the horse. She showed him how to wipe down the saddle and how to remove the bridle. Mathew didn't speak, but then why would he? The kid was more stubborn than a mule when it came to what he was willing to do for people he didn't know well—ha, even for people he did know.

Tristan continued watching with rapt attention as Dianna laughed and put Mathew at ease. One thing that stood out was her use of a nickname.

Mathew hated people calling him Matt. He refused to work with people who made that mistake more than once. Tristan had thought it was because he preferred his given name above all else. But when Dianna used the name Matty, it didn't seem to faze him. Dianna continued surprising him at every turn. He couldn't tell if it was something special about her, or if Mathew just didn't mind the nicknames anymore.

Dianna nudged Mathew. "What do you say we head to the cabin and start a nice fire. I think we have time to read for about twenty minutes." She finally met Tristan's gaze and something strange occurred. A spark passed between them. At least there was for him.

He'd always heard what it was like when someone died. Their life would pass before their eyes in an instant, highlighting everything they'd accomplished.

Well, this feeling was kind of like that. It was brief, and not really visual. It was more of a sensation—like he knew she would play a bigger part in his life than the average person.

Tristan rolled his shoulders, hoping to shake off the strange impression. He was just impressed with her, that was all. They both wanted the same thing—for Mathew to succeed in life. Together, they might have a shot at helping his son improve to the next stage of his learning.

Dianna and Mathew brushed past him and her hand grazed his. He sucked in sharply, his whole body turning hot and cold all at once. Staring down at his hand, he turned it over to examine it. That was weird. The static electricity of this place was really different than it was back home.

The two were far enough ahead that Tristan had to hustle to catch up. He jogged a few paces then walked, the frigid air burning his throat and his lungs. Puffs of white escaped from between his lips as he kept his focus on his son and the new teacher.

Mathew's hand lifted and grabbed onto Dianna's, and Tristan froze. His feet refused to move. The distance between himself and the two walking ahead continued to grow, but he couldn't bring himself to follow. Mathew was holding Dianna's hand, allowing her to lead him back to the cabin.

Speaking was one thing, but physical touch from a near stranger? It was unheard of.

He jolted forward, his thoughts becoming clear. She had a gift, pure and simple. They made it to the cabin before he did, but it worked out since Tristan needed one more moment to soak in his newfound clarity. Tristan pushed open the door and stepped inside just as Mathew emerged from the back carrying a stack of books that he'd brought with them on this trip. Most were non-fiction, highlighting horse breeds and how to care for them.

But the one on top was different. It was a children's book about a little boy asking Santa for a horse for Christmas, and in the end, he realized horses were too much trouble and he just wanted a toy horse instead.

Dianna's eyes lit up when she picked the book from the pile. "My mom used to read this story to me when I was a little girl."

The blood drained from Tristan's face. Uh-oh. She'd said the "m" word. He lurched forward, ready to stop the inevitable conversation.

Only it didn't happen.

Dianna didn't bring up Mathew's mother. Mathew didn't get that sad look on his face.

Instead, Dianna opened the book and put her arm around Mathew as they sat close together on the loveseat by the gas fireplace. She glanced up at him once or twice and their gazes locked, but that was it.

Her voice was melodious and the longer he listened to her, the more he started to wonder what it could be like if she wasn't Mathew's counselor but maybe something more.

Tristan scowled at the thought and turned away from the sight of his son growing closer to a woman who would only be in his life for a few months. Mathew would get attached like he did on occasion, but he'd get over it. Tristan couldn't afford the same luxury. The more time Tristan spent apart from his ex-wife, the more he wished things were different. He'd loved Erika. He wouldn't have married her otherwise. But how much does a person truly know someone? Until that person was placed in a situation that they might not normally be in, there was no telling what side of the line they'd fall.

Erika was a wonderful person until her limits were met. Mathew's early years had been hard. More than hard, they'd pushed both Erika and Tristan to their limits. But he'd stuck around while his wife had found greener pastures.

He made it to the sink and stared at the silver lining bitterly. It had been years. Why was he suddenly so interested in living in the past? Dianna had nothing to do with any of that. She was a stranger.

Tristan peeked at her over his shoulder for what felt like the hundredth time.

A very attractive stranger who would probably report him for harassment if he fell to temptation and flirted with her.

What was he thinking? He needed to get his head on straight and focus on Mathew.

They finished their book and Dianna glanced at her watch. "Well, it looks like I can stay for ten more minutes so we can draw a picture. What do you say?"

Mathew nodded and scurried out of the room.

Tristan swiftly crossed the floor and plopped down in front of her, the coffee table the only thing separating them. "How are you doing that?"

Her brows furrowed and she took a look in the direction that Mathew had taken. "Doing what?"

"I've never seen him so compliant."

Dianna's gaze swung back to him. "What do you mean?"

"I love him, but that kid has got to be one of the most stubborn children I have ever met. I saw what you did in the arena. He didn't want to leave. But somehow you figured out a way to reach him. What did you do?"

Her pinched features grew tighter. "I guess I gave him a choice?"

Tristan huffed. "I give him choices all the time."

She shrugged. "Maybe it was giving him that little bit of extra time with Molasses, instead of cutting it off abruptly at the thirty-minute mark?" She lifted her shoulder once more and her gaze darted away. "He's a smart kid who knows what he wants. So far we haven't tested his limits all that much. I wouldn't be surprised if, at some point, you see more of his usual behavior come through. I'm new. Let him get used to me."

"But that's just it. He's not used to you by any means, and I just saw him hold your hand."

A small smile touched her lips, but just as quickly as it appeared it melted from her face. "I guess we'll just have to see how things go for the next few weeks. It could be a fluke."

He shook his head. "No. I don't think so."

She brought her gaze up to study him, and for the first time since he'd met her, he felt naked, as if she could see right through him. "Then what do you think it is, Mr. Wood? If you're so intuitive about all of this, you tell me."

"I haven't the slightest clue. I wish I did so I could get him to be more flexible when we need him to do something."

Dianna rolled her eyes. "Not that again."

"Not what?" he stammered.

"You're trying to change Mathew into some other kid that he just isn't. Have you ever considered that his autism isn't what's holding him back? It's you and how you're trying to fix him?"

His head reared back. Once again, she'd managed to make him look like the bad guy. All his previous notions of her being the kind of woman he would want to have in his life dissipated. Even if he was still interested, there was no way she shared those sentiments. She saw him as the villain.

Tristan held up a finger and opened his mouth, but his words never came. Mathew barreled into the room holding sheets of paper, crayons, colored pencils, and any other art supply he'd managed to stash away in his suitcase. He lifted bright, excited eyes to Tristan and sat down beside Dianna eagerly.

It was moments like this when Tristan really hated the strange thoughts that continued to plague him. He had never intended on living alone for the rest of his life, but he'd also given up on ever finding someone who wasn't scared off by Mathew's quirks.

Dianna would have been the perfect candidate if she didn't despise him so fully.

He spun on his heel and headed back toward the kitchen. He needed to keep his mind clear and off a certain woman who was currently sucking all the oxygen out of the air. His steps slowed when he heard her voice.

Tristan didn't dare turn around for fear that she'd catch on that he had started to pay attention. Dianna's soft humming would have put sirens out at sea to shame. The melody to the song "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" filled the small area. It was one of his favorite songs, and she hit every single note with perfect pitch.

As much as he knew he shouldn't turn around, he couldn't control himself. He had to look even if it meant that she stopped creating that beautiful music.

Dianna was crouched over her sheet of paper with a pencil in one hand. Mathew drew beside her, seemingly unaware of her angelic voice. And then there was Tristan, who was so fully captivated that he couldn't even drag together two brain cells to do much of anything.