“Your mom is.”
“And she had to sneak into the next room to take my call so Dad didn’t hear her.” The recollection of his conversation with his mother last night irritated him. “I told my brother I was staying in Roundup.”
“Are you?”
“Does it matter one way or the other?”
Before she could answer, her cell phone chimed. “It’s your dad,” she said and answered the call. “Hello, Ted. Sure, I can do that, no problem. He’s running late,” she told Wyatt when she disconnected. “Asked if I could cover for Dottie while she takes her lunch break.”
“It’s your day off.”
“I don’t mind.”
“You shouldn’t let him take advantage of you, Paige.”
“He doesn’t.”
“Right.” His father was a demanding boss and Paige a kindhearted, hardworking employee. With a combination like that, she was likely often running to the saloon to fill in at a moment’s notice.
“Where are you parked?” he asked when they reached the outskirts of town.
“At the saloon, actually. All my errands were nearby.”
He pulled into the parking area behind the bar and shut off the truck, then opened his door.
“You don’t have to walk me in.”
He did, anyway. “I know the kind of people who hang out in bars during the middle of the day.”
“I’ve been working here ten years,” she reminded him, an appealing smile on her lips.
He paid no attention—to her protest. Her smile, on the other hand, enchanted him.
Dottie was happy to see Paige and left immediately to check on her sick husband. The bar’s one and only patron, a man about seventy and brandishing a cane, also left, with a, “See you tomorrow, Paige,” as he hobbled to the exit.
“One of the regulars?” Wyatt asked, watching Paige get right to work, setting dirty glassware in the small sink and running water.
“Too regular. He reminds me of my mother.”
“I suppose I should get going.”
“If you have a minute, there’s something I want to show you.”
“Sure.” Wyatt had a lot more than a minute where Paige was concerned.
For the second time in two days, he followed her down the bar’s dim hallway. It was a habit he could grow accustomed to.
She stopped at the closet and reached inside.
Wyatt was mystified. And amused. “What are you doing?”
“Getting this.” She withdrew her arm and produced a book. A scrapbook, he saw when she stood and gestured him into the still empty saloon.
She laid the scrapbook on the bar and began slowly flipping pages. “This is your mom’s. She’s kept it since you left.”
Newspaper clippings, magazine articles, excerpts printed off the Internet, souvenir programs and photographs filled every page. Wyatt’s entire career was spread out before him, from his first professional rodeo at eighteen to the fall from Midnight. There were even several pictures of the stallion, showing the stuff that had made him a two-time bucking horse of the year.
Wyatt’s chest ached, the result of his heart being squeezed.
“Your mother wants you to stay.” Paige lifted her gaze to his. “And to answer your earlier question, so do I.”
It was easy to lose himself in those incredible green eyes of hers, those soft curves yielding beneath his touch, the taste of her lips as his mouth covered hers in a searing kiss.
Need, long denied, coursed through him. Wyatt spun her around and pressed her into the bar, only vaguely aware of their surroundings. Everything else vanished until there was just Paige and the sound of her soft moans as she responded to him in a way he’d only dreamt of but hadn’t thought possible.
Sliding his fingers into her hair, he increased the pressure of his mouth. She leaned into him, fitting their bodies together as naturally as if they’d done this a hundred times. Wyatt wasn’t sure how much more he could take. With a groan of frustration, he ended the kiss. Not because he wanted to. Hell, no, he’d go on indefinitely if Paige would let him.
They were in his parents’ saloon, however, and he respected her too much to compromise her reputation. Mustering every ounce of his determination, he set her gently away from him.
“That was…” Wyatt’s mind grappled for an adequate description. He settled for, “Pretty amazing,” which didn’t come close.
“Yeah?”
If she distrusted her effect on him, she need only listen to his ragged breathing.
Tucking a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her face to his. “I’ve always wondered what it might be like between us. If I’d had any idea how good it would be, you can bet I wouldn’t have waited so long.”
“You wanted to kiss me before now?”
He grinned. “Like you didn’t know.”
“I didn’t. You were always with Dinah.”
“Only because I thought you didn’t like me that way. Romantically.”
“I always liked you that way,” she shyly admitted.
Paige had feelings for him! Those kind of feelings.
He’d been such a fool. For not taking her with him when he left home. Not sending for her. Not coming back sooner. How different their lives might be if he had.
“God, all those wasted years,” he said and drew her into his embrace for another kiss.
This, he told himself, was only the beginning.
Minutes later, too many for Wyatt to count, they were interrupted by the back door being noisily opened.
“My dad,” he whispered. Instantly he and Paige sprang apart.
“Hello!”
They both relaxed—marginally—at hearing his mother’s greeting.
“In here, Arlene,” Paige called.
Wyatt’s mother broke into a smile when she stepped into the saloon and saw him. “Wyatt! What a wonderful surprise.”
They met halfway for a hug. By then, Wyatt had himself reasonably under control. “You free for lunch?” he asked.
“Absolutely.” His mother, always astute, spied the scrapbook on the bar.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Paige hurriedly explained. “I wanted Wyatt to see how much he’s been missed.”
“I don’t mind at all. I’m a little embarrassed.” She went over to the scrapbook, a sentimental expression on her face. “It’s silly, I suppose.”
Wyatt joined her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Not silly at all.”
“You were good.” She traced the headline of an American Cowboy Magazine article about his fall. “Such a shame.”
“I was thinking of retiring anyway.”
“Were you?”
“No, but what happened, happened.”
“Your father didn’t talk about it much, but he was impressed with all your championship titles.”
The news astounded Wyatt. “He was?”
“Of course. You were the talk of the town. Your father would try hard not to show it but every time someone brought up your most recent win, he’d gloat.”
His father gloating?
“Why didn’t Dad and Jay come see me at the hospital?”
“They should have, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am they didn’t. By the time we heard about the fall you were already out of danger and in stable condition.” The corners of her mouth wobbled. “Your father called to check on you.”
“The nurses didn’t tell me.”
“He talked to your friend, Emit Gridley.”
His partner in the rodeo school. “How did he—”
“Through the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association. Your dad made him promise not to tell you.”
“Didn’t he think I’d want to hear from him?”
“You were so angry when you left and all those times you called me, you never asked to speak to him.”
“I’d change that if I could,” Wyatt replied in a hoarse voice.
“We all made mistakes.”
“I wish Dad had told me even once t
hat he was proud of me.”
“I think he wishes that, too, though he’d probably deny it.”
“He certainly told Jay enough times.” The bitterness Wyatt thought he’d left behind surfaced to choke him.
“It was easier for him to relate to Jay. Your father played football in high school. He didn’t have the talent to earn a college scholarship, much less play for the pros. But he and Jay shared a love of the game. Which is why it hit him so hard when Jay injured his knee.”
“I didn’t cause the accident, Mom,” Wyatt said. “I wasn’t the one driving Dad’s car.”
“Oh, son.” Tears filled her eyes, and her voice broke. “If only I’d known. I’d have insisted on reconciliation years ago.”
Wyatt pulled her into a tender embrace. “I’m not sure I’d have been ready.”
“Are you now?”
He sought Paige. She, too, had tears glistening in her eyes. “I think I’m ready for a lot of things I wasn’t before.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” his mother said, her smile no longer sad but knowing. “Very glad.”
Chapter Five
Wyatt grabbed his ringing cell phone, sliding into the motor home’s bench seat as he answered it.
“Hi, it’s Dinah. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Not at all.” He edged the curtain aside. Indistinguishable shadows passed in front of Paige’s kitchen window, signs that someone or perhaps two someones were up and about inside the house. “Just having my second cup of coffee.”
“I had an opportunity to pull up the records on the accident.”
“Wow, that was quick.” He straightened, his cell phone cradled in the crook of his neck.
“I received a call about four-thirty this morning. One of my deputies needed backup. The burglary in progress turned out to be a pair of hungry raccoons. Since I had to come back to the station anyway, I requisitioned the file.”
“Find anything?”
“I did, actually.”
Wyatt let the curtain drop. “Tell me.”
“Yours, Jay’s and Paige’s statements were all identical. Mine, too, up until I got in the car and passed out. We went to the party at Thunder Creek, drank some beer, then left with you driving and me asleep in the backseat. You lost control of the vehicle, swerved off the road and into a tree.”
He stifled a pang of disappointment. “Not much help.”
“Actually, it is. Old Sheriff Locke made some notes in the file. He found discrepancies between our statements and what was discovered at the accident site.”
“Such as?”
“Such as you passing your field sobriety test even though you claimed to be drinking. Such as Jay appearing considerably more inebriated than you. Such as his knee injury being consistent with an impact to the steering wheel column. The sheriff ended his report by saying he believed there was more to the story and that, for whatever reason, the principals were lying. He intended to continue the investigation.”
“Except he didn’t.”
“No. He had a heart attack two days later and was forced to retire. The case was closed by his replacement soon after due to lack of resources.”
Wyatt slid his mug of coffee around on the tabletop. “Any chance I can get a copy of the report?”
“You can make a request. It’ll take a while, though. Possibly weeks.”
The pang returned. “Let me think on it.”
“In the meantime, I’ll be happy to back you if you need it.”
“Thanks.” With Dinah willing to substantiate his story—Wyatt wouldn’t involve Paige and potentially risk her job—he felt ready to confront his father.
No, not confront. Talk to. He’d come home to reconcile with his family, not further alienate them.
“I have to go, Wyatt,” Dinah explained in a rush. “Another call just came in.”
While digging in his duffel bag for fresh clothes, he heard the rumble of a garage door opening and a car engine roaring to life. He assumed Paige was either heading to work or dropping Seth off at school.
She hadn’t mentioned her plans for the day. They spoke little yesterday after their kiss—a kiss Wyatt wasn’t likely to forget. A kiss he’d contemplated all during lunch with his mother and at the Western wear and tack store where he’d stopped in for a visit with his old friend Austin Wright. A drive around town had occupied the rest of the afternoon, most of it spent distracted by thoughts of Paige.
She was the best thing to happen to him since he arrived home. The best thing to happen to him in years. He couldn’t leave now. Not until he gave these new feelings between them a chance to develop.
More reason than ever to make peace with his dad.
Before squeezing into the motor home’s tiny shower, he called his mom on her cell phone and found out his dad would be at the saloon after lunch.
“You want me there?” she asked when Wyatt informed her of his plans.
“I think the less people, the better.”
“You’re probably right,” she agreed, her tone resigned.
He ended their conversation by promising to check back later and let her know how the conversation with his father went.
Even after taking his time shaving and dressing, Wyatt still had several hours to kill. On impulse, he called Thunder Ranch, eventually reaching Ace Hart. Before he could consider his next move, he needed to gather more information.
“If you have a minute,” he said to Ace, “I’d like to bounce an idea off you.”
“I’m listening.”
Wyatt detailed his potential plans of opening a second rodeo school. “What do you think? Is there enough demand in this part of the state?”
“Possibly. Got a place in mind?”
“I was hoping you did.”
“As a matter of fact…”
The two men talked for over twenty minutes. By the time they hung up, Wyatt was armed with a list of nearby ranch owners who might consider leasing their facilities. He spent the remainder of the morning driving by the ranches for a quick look-see.
A little before one, he strolled into the Open Range Saloon for the third time in as many days. Paige wasn’t behind the bar. She stood on a ladder, attempting to hang a Happy Anniversary banner along the far wall.
“Be with you in a second,” she called without looking away from her task.
Wyatt meandered over, enjoying the very pleasant view of her shapely form from this particular vantage point.
“Need a hand?”
She jerked, causing the ladder to shake. “It’s you.”
He grabbed hold of the top step and her jean-clad calf, steadying them both. “Whoa, there!”
“What are you doing here?” she whispered and let go of the banner, which promptly drooped. “Your dad’s out back.”
“I know. Mom told me. I came to see him.”
“Oh.” She descended the ladder, facing him when she had both feet solidly on the floor. “Oh!”
Wyatt couldn’t take his eyes off her, his knees more wobbly than those of a newborn foal. This was no high school crush. He was falling for her, hard and fast and head over heels.
“I talked to Dinah this morning,” he told Paige, hoping her flushed cheeks were because of him and not hanging the banner. “She found some interesting notes in the records.”
“Are you going to tell your dad?” she asked after he filled her in.
“That’s why I’m here.”
“I can go with—”
“Stay.” He leaned in and nuzzled her cheek, resisting the urge to draw her close. This wasn’t the time or place. “What about that dinner tonight? You, me and Seth.”
“Seth has a sleepover at a friend’s house. If you don’t mind just me for company—”
“Are you kidding?” He broke into a wide grin. “Does the Brick Oven still serve the best pizza in town?”
“Best in three counties.”
“How’s seven o’clock?”
She nodded.
Wyatt was contemplating stealing a kiss after all when a loud bang carried from the rear of the saloon.
“The beer vendor must have arrived.” Paige glanced worriedly at the open door leading to the hall.
“Wait for me,” he said and brushed a thumb across her cheek before heading in the direction of the noise.
He’d helped his father unload many a beer shipment. Might make for a good ice-breaker.
Or not.
When he reached the loading dock behind the saloon, his dad looked every bit as displeased to see him as he had two days ago.
* * *
“It’s not a good time.” Wyatt’s father huffed as he pushed a handcart loaded with long necks past Wyatt, his complexion flushed from exertion.
Without a word, Wyatt followed his father into the walk-in cooler and helped him unload the delivery.
“This isn’t necessary,” his father said.
Wyatt ignored him. The two men worked in silence until the entire shipment was unloaded and stacked.
Once the bill of lading was signed, the driver hopped in the cab of the truck, the hydraulic brakes making a loud squeal as he pulled away.
Wyatt’s father shut and locked the steel-reinforced back door. “Thanks for the help.”
An acknowledgment. And the sky hadn’t fallen. Well, well.
“Dad, we need to talk.”
“I told you, I’m—”
“This is important. A conversation we should have had a long time ago.”
“Not here.”
“Fine, pick a place.” After coming this far, Wyatt wasn’t about to let a streak of stubbornness derail him.
They went to the saloon, where his father chose the furthest, quietest booth, away from the few patrons that had meandered in for an early start on the weekend.
“Bring us a couple beers, Paige,” his father called out. “Unless you prefer something less strong,” he said to Wyatt.
“Beer’s fine.” Wyatt had to stop himself from stammering. He’d never shared a beer with his father, didn’t even think his father partook of spirits, except on special occasions.
“And a bowl of those peanuts.”
Paige hurried over with two frosty mugs and the peanuts, which she placed in front of them.
“Anything else?” Her chipper tone was in stark contrast to the line of worry creasing her brow.
Wyatt: Return of the Cowboy Page 4