He closed his eyes to prove to himself that the blinding darkness was nothing more than a matter of perception, a simple absence of light. Then he focused on his senses that were still in fine working order. Smell. The predominant scent was of the alfalfa hay stacked high all around him. To him, it smelled green, retaining some of the freshness of new grass. It also coated his nostrils with dust, which transported him, via his imagination, onto a field in summer, where the earth, still damp from irrigation, embraced the crops that absorbed its nutrients as well as its pungent odor.
And then, in his mind’s eye, he saw Erin walking through the swaying clumps of alfalfa. She wore a filmy, almost see-through dress that clung to the angles and curves of her slender body, giving him tantalizing glimpses of her taut nipples, the slender dip of her waist, and the fullness of her hips. And, just like that, the fly of his jeans was bulging. He didn’t need his sight to know that. His shaft, turned steely by desire, felt as if it were bent double within the confines of denim.
He sat straight up on the hay, which made the discomfort even worse. What the hell? Erin never wore sexy garments, so why had he imagined her in a dress that was the equivalent of daytime lingerie? I’m in big trouble, he decided. He couldn’t go on like this. Was it possible for a man to get a testicular infection from lack of sex? He’d never been told of such a thing, but his nuts felt as if somebody had been whacking them with a Ping-Pong paddle. If he didn’t start getting some physical release, he’d wake up surrounded by other men, his body in the throes of another wet dream, and he’d want to die of humiliation.
After six years of celibacy, he’d hit a brick wall. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that he’d waded into dangerous waters by wanting a woman he absolutely couldn’t have. If this kept up, his resolve to stay away from Erin might weaken. Was he really willing to risk so much just to slake his physical needs? He knew from hard experience that a profoundly deaf man could get into huge trouble if he sought release with a woman who, for whatever reason, had second thoughts at the last second. Another rape charge could land him in the pen. Or even worse, what if, because he couldn’t hear, he ended up doing Erin harm? A woman had a right to say no, and when she did, no matter what her reasons, a man should respect her wishes. Only there was a chance that Wyatt wouldn’t stop, not because he was a selfish, forceful bastard, but because he couldn’t hear that one, small word—no—even if a woman screamed it.
So exhausted it hurt to move, he maneuvered his way down from the tower of hay to ground level where there was at least faint moonlight coming in through the windows. With a deliberate stride, he headed for the personnel door and exited the building. After reaching a stand of trees just south of the creek, he stopped, tipped his head back to stare at the star-studded sky, and unzipped his pants.
A man didn’t need a woman to take care of his business. Desperate situations called for desperate measures, and though he’d never made a habit of it, he knew how to play Five-Fingered Stud. He just hoped there was no truth to the old wives’ tale that this activity could make a person go blind.
Chapter Three
Late on Tuesday afternoon, Erin drove out to the Wilder Ranch. It had been overcast all morning, but now the clouds had moved out on a brisk breeze to make way for sunlight. Recent rain had rinsed the forests clean, settled the dust, and given the ferns and clumps of wildflowers a drink. Everywhere she looked, she saw the promise of summer warmth and new growth. In two months’ time, everyone she encountered on the sidewalks of Mystic Creek would be complaining of the heat. Personally, Erin enjoyed toasty weather. Blessed with skin that tolerated the sun, she loved lying on a lounge chair in her backyard in a string bikini that she’d never be caught dead wearing in public. Last summer, due to a personal problem with a dispatcher, she’d gotten very little time off for sunbathing or anything else, so she was looking forward to indulging herself during the forthcoming good weather.
As she turned left to pass under the huge log archway that supported a sign reading WILDER RANCH, she anticipated a lovely visit with her uncle and aunt. She’d skipped lunch to save calories for Vickie’s fabulous baked goods, which she apparently produced nearly every day. But before Erin went to the main house, she had an unpleasant chore to take care of that she shouldn’t put off any longer. That was straightening things out with Wyatt. Whenever she visited the ranch, which had happened twice last week, she rarely saw him, and she was pretty sure he was going to great lengths to avoid her. In only a matter of months, she could end up living at the ranch, possibly for as long as two years. With the present state of affairs between her and Wyatt, how on earth would that work over a long period of time? Without betraying Kennedy’s confidence, she needed to let Wyatt know that she understood his situation and that she no longer entertained any notions that the two of them might get together. Maybe then Wyatt would be able to relax around her and they could develop a friendship of sorts. Barring that, at least he would no longer feel that he needed to hide from her.
Just as Erin started to get out of the truck, a flash of blue caught her attention, and when she homed in with her gaze, she saw Wyatt vault over a perimeter fence and stride off into the forest. She suspected that he was walking down to the creek, somewhere near where she and Kennedy had gone the other day to talk in private. She also felt fairly certain that Wyatt was doing another disappearing act to avoid an encounter with her. Great. Just then her aunt Vickie emerged from the main house and waved at Erin to come inside.
Erin got out of the pickup. “I’ll be along in just a few minutes, Aunt Vickie! First I need to talk to Wyatt for a second.”
Vickie, dressed today in her usual jeans and knit top, had changed up her appearance by gathering her curly hair into what looked like a red pompom perched atop her head. She smiled and nodded, her expression conveying that she knew Erin had a thing for the young foreman. “See you in a bit, then. The coffee will be fresh!”
Erin grappled with an urge to grumble with dismay. Did everyone on the ranch know she had been crushing on Wyatt? Kennedy had certainly picked up on it. Apparently Vickie had as well. It disturbed Erin to think she had been so transparent. Embarrassment made her cheeks burn as she walked along the paddock fence through spring field grass that was already ankle deep. As she entered the forest, the carpet of green thinned out to reveal earth gone spongy from countless layers of ponderosa pine needles that had composted over the years into rich organic humus.
She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. Speaking to Wyatt needed to go smoothly so their future encounters wouldn’t be uncomfortable. She should keep the conversation simple and to the point without alluding in any way to her talk with Kennedy.
She found Wyatt sitting on the same log that she and Kennedy had sat on to talk. Approaching from behind allowed her to study him. He’d doffed his Stetson to let the light breeze ruffle his golden hair, which drifted over his muscular shoulders like strands of silk. Sunlight filtered through the pine boughs above him, dappling the cloth of his blue work shirt to make it look tie-dyed. He had leaned forward to brace his arms on his knees. Head slightly bent, he studied the movement of the creek with its eddying currents dotted with white froth. Erin wished there were some way to alert him to her presence and thought about lobbing a pebble at his back, but the way her luck seemed to run with him, she’d probably hit him on the head.
As she circled the craggy end of the fallen log, he jumped with a start and his laser-blue gaze cut into her like a sharp blade. “You are the only person on God’s green earth who can sneak up on me like that.”
Erin wondered how that could be true. He couldn’t hear footsteps approaching him from behind, and she surely couldn’t be the only person who ever startled him. Keeping her distance, she sank onto the log. Her brain kicked into overdrive, composing sentences and then discarding them just as quickly.
She couldn’t think how to start this conversation and was starting to panic when
Wyatt saved her the trouble by saying, “Erin, please don’t take this personally, but you need to back off. I’m really not interested. I’ve tried to be polite about it, but you don’t seem to be getting the message.”
Erin nodded. “I know. That you aren’t interested, I mean. And I’m really sorry for putting you in such an uncomfortable position. I grew up in the city. I understand that all of us don’t march to the same drumbeat. It just never occurred to me that you’re—well, you know. I followed you down here to set your mind at ease. I won’t be bothering you again with my misguided notion that we could be anything more than friends.” Embarrassment made her chest feel hot and tingly. “I just didn’t pick up on the signals, I guess. Nothing about you suggested to me that you might be playing for the other team.”
His chiseled features, burnished from daily exposure to the elements, suddenly went ruddy red with what appeared to be outrage. “Are you implying that I’m gay?”
The question set her back. Wasn’t his sexual orientation the crux of their entire problem? “Wyatt, I’m not passing judgment. I only came down here to let you know I finally get it and won’t be troubling you any further.”
His face turned even redder, and his jaw muscle began to tic. “Your conceit has no equal. Really? If I’m not interested in what you have to offer, I must be gay? Well, I’ve got a news flash for you, sweetheart. I’m as straight as they come. I just don’t find anything about you to be the least bit attractive. I’m drawn to women who aren’t fixated on outdoing me physically at every turn. You’re the kind of gal who not only wants to wear the pants, but you honestly believe you can fill them out better than a man can.”
Erin felt as if he’d slugged her in the stomach. Never in her life had she felt so humiliated. She hadn’t meant for this conversation to get ugly. Now he was saying things that cut her to the quick. And the worst part was that every word was the truth—or at least used to be. As Julie had pointed out during their girls night, Erin had come a long way. She couldn’t say that it had been easy or that she didn’t still have more changes to make, but it hurt to have all her faults thrown in her face.
Erin pushed up from the log. “I’m sorry if I’ve misread the situation,” she pushed out. “Whether you’re straight, gay, or playing for both teams, I wish you every happiness. In the future when I visit the ranch, you don’t need to avoid me. I’ll never try to hit on you again.”
She spun on her heel and struck off the way she’d come, her vision so blurred by unshed tears that the forest floor resembled a Jackson Pollock abstract expressionist painting. She tripped on an exposed tree root and nearly fell. By the time she reached the paddock fence, cold droplets had slid off her chin, trickled down her chest, and collected in her cleavage. The main house swam into her line of sight, and she jerked to a halt. She couldn’t go inside. She’d told Vickie she was going down to talk with Wyatt. It wouldn’t be difficult for Vickie to figure out that the foreman had said something to upset her. Even though Erin felt Wyatt had been out of line to get ugly and hurtful, she didn’t want Uncle Slade to be pissed off at him. She’d just call Vickie on the way home and say something had come up at work to cut her visit short. A white lie. Erin didn’t like lying, but sometimes, to protect others, she saw no way around it. Wyatt’s livelihood could be at stake.
* * *
* * *
Still sitting by the creek, Wyatt held his head in his hands. He’d seen the hurt in Erin’s eyes when he laced into her. Despite his initial outrage, he’d had no reason for lighting into her the way he had. Damn it. Normally he went out of his way not to hurt people’s feelings. With Erin, he’d pressed a merciless attack on her femininity, and now he was furious with himself. In fact, when he considered all the angles, he’d be better off mentally and physically if he were playing for the other team. At least then he wouldn’t be plagued with erotic dreams about a female deputy with handcuffs on her belt.
A tingling sensation suddenly washed over Wyatt’s skin, and he snapped erect. Someone or something was approaching him. For a moment, he hoped it might be Erin returning, but he quickly discarded that possibility. She never set off his inner alarms, which was yet another thing about her that messed with his head. He could always sense it when another person or an animal got within a certain distance of him.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw Kennedy angling through the cinnamon trunks of the massive pines to reach the log where he was sitting. Wyatt knew it was no accident that his brother had sought him out. This spot along the creek was too far away from the ranch proper to draw passersby. The afternoon breeze suddenly picked up, stirring the pine boughs so briskly that splashes of sunlight danced over the forest floor.
“Hey,” Wyatt said by way of greeting.
Tall and lean like Wyatt, Kennedy sat next to him on the fallen tree, his bent knees forming bony squares under the snug denim of his pant legs. “Hey,” he replied, his expression troubled. “What were you and Erin talking about? She looked upset when she left, and I’ve got a really bad feeling it’s my fault.”
Wyatt sharpened his gaze on Kennedy’s face. “Why would you think that?”
Kennedy hung his head for a moment. Then he looked up so Wyatt could see his lips. “Because I’m the one who told her you’re gay.”
It took Wyatt a moment to assimilate that. “You did what?”
“I’m sorry, bro. But it was all I could think to do!” As often occurred, Kennedy stopped communicating verbally and switched to American Sign Language, a habit that both he and Wyatt had developed during personal exchanges, because accurate lip reading took all of Wyatt’s concentration and quickly exhausted him. Hands moving rapidly, Kennedy continued. “She was about to quit her job, all because she’s gotten it into her head that men don’t like women who wear uniforms. I overheard her talking to Slade and Vickie about it. How she was planning to go back to college and she’d no longer be able to afford the rent on her cottage. I had to do something. She was about to destroy her whole life! Since I knew your disinterest had nothing to do with her personally, I decided to tell her the truth.”
Wyatt’s brain froze. The truth. He felt as if he’d just awakened from a bad dream to discover that reality was even worse. Erin hadn’t reached the conclusion that he was gay on her own. She’d been led to believe that by his brother. Which meant Wyatt had been completely off base in everything he’d said to her. Oh, God. He’d accused her of being conceited. Of being so stuck on herself that she couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that a heterosexual male could resist her.
A fresh flood of outrage swamped Wyatt. He stared at Kennedy, and for the first time in his life, he counted to ten in order to control his temper with his brother. “Exactly when did you determine that I’m gay, Kennedy?”
Kennedy’s shoulders slumped. “I’m not sure. For a long time, I thought your lack of interest in dating women was somehow connected to your deafness. Only as I matured and started to—well, you know—I realized that a guy’s ears are a long way from his equipment. His sense of hearing or the lack of it plays no part in his sexuality. Deaf, blind, mute. It doesn’t matter. So I started thinking of other reasons you might not like girls. I wanted to talk to you about it, but every time I tried, I couldn’t think how to broach the subject.”
“Well, the moral of that story is that maybe you shouldn’t think. I am not gay.”
“You’re not?” Kennedy shook his head. “But that’s all that makes sense. My whole life, you’ve never liked girls. You didn’t even go to your senior prom.”
Wyatt resumed his former position, elbows planted on his knees, forehead resting on the heels of his hands. He didn’t know if Kennedy continued to talk. It didn’t matter. “I liked girls in high school, but they didn’t like me. I was deaf and I talked weird. Any time I made a move on a girl, I got shot down.” Wyatt straightened to look at his brother again. “That’s one of the reasons I worked so hard
back then to improve my speech. I hoped to be more like the other guys and get a girlfriend.”
Kennedy’s brow furrowed in a frown. “So you like women? I don’t get it. You speak fine now. If you’re interested, why don’t you ever hook up with anybody?”
Wyatt ran a hand over his face and blinked. “There are things about me that you don’t know. You were only fifteen when it happened, and Mom and Dad kept it from you. It was bad, really bad, but it didn’t happen in our hometown and wasn’t front-page news, so they were able to keep it a secret. Mostly, anyhow. Grandpa knew. Our minister and a couple of really close friends from church knew. And practically everyone in Medford must have known, because the paper followed my trial closely. But if the news ever reached Klamath Falls, it must have been buried on a back page.”
“Trial? Damn, Wyatt, what’d you do?”
After expelling a ragged breath, Wyatt explained to his brother in detail what had happened and why he still avoided the opposite sex because of it.
When Kennedy had heard the story, he stared at the creek with a stricken expression on his face. Finally, he turned his gaze to Wyatt again. “You’re deaf, Wyatt, not dead from the neck down. That’s no way for a man to live his whole life. You’re a great guy with a lot to offer. You should have a wife, raise a family. When Grandpa passes on, the ranch will go to you. Without kids, you’ll have no one to take over when you get old, kind of like Slade before Vickie came back. He didn’t know he had a son and believed he had nobody to leave the ranch to. Nobody. Remember how sad he was about that?”
Huckleberry Lake Page 6