Falling for the Rebel Cowboy

by Allison B. Collins

“I take it the school years were not pleasant ones?”

  They weren’t—especially with the passing of his mother. But the last thing he needed was her learning he’d never graduated. “Why?”

  “Because they keep whispering to each other and looking at you. Do you want to leave?”

  “Nope. It was a long time ago. Let’s just say I wasn’t the best student.”

  * * *

  FRANCINE PUSHED OPEN the door and walked to where Wyatt waited for her. He leaned against the side of the truck, legs crossed in front of him, thumbs in his belt loops. He seemed to be staring at something and nothing at the same time, his mind a million miles away. The hint of grief on his face really surprised her.

  She hated to bring him any more grief, but the conversation she’d just had in the diner bathroom troubled her. She dreaded bringing it up to Wyatt, but she had to, for John Allen’s sake. Once they were on the way back to the ranch, she leaned forward and turned the radio down a bit.

  “When I was in ladies’ room, one of those old biddy teachers followed me in.”

  “And?”

  “She told me to stay away from you, for my own sake. And safety.”

  His face turned to stone, and he wouldn’t look at her. A muscle jumped in his cheek, and she all but heard him grinding his teeth. “That so?”

  “She said you’re a troublemaker.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was a bit of a rebel in my younger days.”

  “Just a bit?”

  He winced. “Okay, more than a bit. I wasn’t the best student, and I had a lot of anger.”

  “So you were in a gang?”

  “What?”

  “She said you’d been in a gang.”

  “I guess from her point of view, we were a gang. I hung around with a few guys and we had motorcycles, played pranks, caused trouble around town, if you call that a gang.”

  “You had a motorcycle in high school?”

  He shrugged. “I did odd jobs for the mechanic in town. He let me buy an old one for cheap. Had to rebuild it from the frame up.”

  “You rebuilt a motorcycle as a kid?”

  “I was always good with mechanics. Better than learning anything in school,” he muttered almost under his breath, but she heard him. “Damn thing stalled more than it ran. But it was mine, and it got me off the ranch. I still have it, even though I don’t ride it much anymore.”

  She steeled herself, dreading the next part, hating to pry, but she had to. “The old lady also said you’d been in jail.”

  His whole body went still, and his eyes narrowed. “This is why I hate coming to town,” he muttered. “That part is true.”

  Adrenaline flooded her body, and she wanted to jump out of the truck. What had she been thinking yesterday, letting her boy spend the day with a complete stranger—who had a record!

  “I’ll bet she didn’t tell you that I took the rap to keep my friend safe, did she?” he ground out through clenched teeth.

  “No, she didn’t. Is that what happened?”

  “My friends and I were out one night. Todd had gotten hold of some booze, so we were passing the bottle around, feeling pretty good. He did something stupid and the cops were called. If his dad had found out, he’d have beaten Todd again, real bad. So I took the rap and had to spend the night in jail. The charges were dropped the next morning because someone saw what really happened and stepped forward.”

  He glanced over at her, a vein jumping in his temple. She could tell how much it bothered him to talk about this. She set a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I had to ask because of my son.”

  “I’d never hurt a kid,” he ground out, yanking his arm from beneath her touch. “And I don’t appreciate anyone thinking I would.”

  Chapter Five

  Francine held John Allen’s hand as they walked toward the barbecue dinner set up outside the main lodge. The night sky was full of stars twinkling like diamonds. A perfectly beautiful sight to end a not-so-perfect day.

  Her mind immediately flashed to Wyatt, and she gave a brief shake of her head. She’d had a good time with him this morning. It was the first time in a while she’d spent time with a man she didn’t work with, one who didn’t want to use her for something else—like her ex. The weasel had only married her to gain a position at her dad’s company and, apparently, to control her finances. After the divorce, Frankie had a tough time getting Robert to call John Allen or even write a birthday card.

  Maybe that was why Wyatt was such a surprise. He wasn’t who she’d thought he was originally—and she liked him. Finding out about that jail stint was a shock, but she liked him more, knowing he’d done it to protect a friend.

  It made him more attractive, if that was even possible.

  But the drive home had been very tense. She knew she’d upset him with her questions, and she’d tried to apologize once more, but he’d brushed her off. He’d been so quiet the rest of the way back that by the time he pulled up to the lodge, she’d worried he might not stop the truck completely. But he’d been a gentleman and opened her door for her, got her packages out of the back. Then he’d sped off with Sadie, practically leaving a trail of dust behind him.

  She spotted him across the patio now, talking to a small group of men. Worn denim cupped his butt, contoured to his thigh muscles. His arms were folded across his chest, biceps bulging. She appreciated the view, just like she would any other man who filled out his clothes well—at least, that was what she told herself.

  From the way they’d left off earlier, she guessed he wouldn’t be speaking to her any time soon. Maybe he’d come around eventually, and she could avoid unwanted awkwardness during her stay.

  The evening had turned even cooler, but there were so many fire pits and heaters around it made for a cozy space.

  He turned as she watched him, and caught her eye. He dipped his head just a bit, then cocked a half grin and waved at her son.

  She looked around at her coworkers and their families already seated at most of the tables. She and John Allen were running late because her father had almost had a coronary when he saw her dressed in her new jeans. He’d said that as his daughter, and an executive vice president in his company, she had to maintain a higher standard for herself, and that didn’t include dressing like a cowgirl. She’d changed into a copper sweater, mink-brown pants and ankle boots to appease him.

  And she felt ridiculous.

  It was one thing to keep her dress code during business hours, but this was supposed to be a relaxing evening eating barbecue al fresco—not entertaining her father’s guests in his Park Avenue mansion, or the estate in the Hamptons.

  At least he hadn’t thrown a fit about John Allen’s new clothes. Wyatt had given her the hat to give to her son, and John Allen had been overjoyed to get it. She bet anything he’d be sleeping with it.

  They walked toward the dwindling line at the buffet tables and she picked up two plates.

  Juggling them, she scooped up some salad for herself, then moved on, looking ahead to what might tempt John Allen.

  “Hi,” said a woman behind her. “Can I help you with one of those?”

  Francine looked up to see a pregnant woman with long dark hair and a smile on her pretty face. “Not necessary, but thank you,” she said, just as one of the plates tipped and food started to slide.

  The woman grabbed for the other plate and averted a potentially embarrassing disaster. “I’m Kelsey Sullivan. Happy to help out.”

  “Sullivan?”

  “Yup. I married Nash, the oldest of this motley crew of ranchers.”

  “I’m Francine Wentworth, and this is John Allen.”

  An older woman with blond hair and a pretty face walked over. “Hi, pumpkin,” she said to Kelsey, giving her a one-armed hug, then held her hand out to Francine. “I’m Bunny Sul
livan. I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

  “Mom, this is Francine Wentworth, and her son, John Allen.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Sullivan,” Francine said, puzzled but trying not to show it.

  Kelsey laughed. “Confusing, right? Bunny is my mother. I was Nash’s physical therapist, and while I was working with him, she and Nash’s dad fell in love. Then I fell for Nash.” She shrugged. “Easy to do with these Sullivan men.”

  “You better believe it,” Bunny said. “There aren’t men like this group anywhere else in the world. They’ll happily lend a helping hand to whoever needs it, and welcome them in.” She grinned. “Well, Francine, enjoy your stay. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” She walked over to speak to another group of people.

  Just then a little girl with long dark curly hair ran up to them and threw her arms around Kelsey’s waist. “You’re Johnny, right?” she asked, staring at John Allen.

  “I’m John Allen Wentworth,” he said, holding his hand out to the little girl.

  “I’m Maddy. This is my mommy, and that’s—” she pointed at one of the cowboys standing near Wyatt “—my new daddy.”

  “Hi, Maddy,” Francine said, smiling.

  The girl waved a hand at her. “Come on, Johnny, you can sit with me.”

  Her son beamed. “Mr. Wyatt calls me that.”

  “I know. My uncle says that’s your name.” She looked around. “Hey, I wanna meet your grampa, ’cause Uncle Wyatt says he has a big stick in the mud.”

  Francine snorted, then clapped a hand over her mouth. She could just imagine what Wyatt’s real words had been.

  “Madison! You know better than that. Now you apologize to Ms. Wentworth for saying something mean about her father,” Kelsey said.

  Maddy’s eyes opened wide. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled and dropped her head so her curls draped her face.

  “It’s okay, Maddy,” Francine said. “I won’t tell him.”

  “So, can Johnny sit with me at the kids’ table? My cousins are there.” She pointed at a smaller table next to Wyatt, indeed filled with four rough-and-tumble miniature Sullivan men.

  Francine looked down at her son as he crowded against her legs, staring at the table Maddy pointed to. She patted his shoulder. “Maybe later, Maddy.”

  Maddy shrugged. “Sure. See ya.” She ran off to join her cousins.

  John Allen stared after Maddy, then turned his head to look up at Francine. “Mommy, can I go sit with them?”

  It took everything in her not to let her jaw drop. Her shy baby actually wanted to meet strangers? “Sure, honey. Want me to walk you over?”

  “How about if I walk you both over and introduce you to the boys and their dads?” Kelsey asked, gesturing at the group of men talking to Wyatt.

  Francine looked at her and mouthed her thanks. She finished filling a plate for John Allen, and they walked to the kids’ table.

  “Francine, this is my husband, Nash. And these are his brothers, Wyatt, Luke, Kade and Hunter.” Kelsey pointed at each one as she introduced them. The men all nodded at Francine.

  Wow. All five men wore denim, flannel Western shirts, cowboy hats and boots. Was it her imagination, or was testosterone wrapping around her like a warm blanket? Every one of them was rugged, solidly muscled and immensely attractive. Although her eyes kept going to Wyatt. There was just something about him...

  “Frankie,” Wyatt said, his voice a rumble that sent those damn traitorous tingles racing down her spine.

  Kelsey glanced at her. “Frankie? Have you two met already?”

  “Yeah, over some mud pies,” he said, a half grin on his face.

  Francine’s cheeks heated, and she pulled at the neck of her suddenly too-hot sweater.

  “You’ll have to tell me that story some time,” Kelsey said, looking between the two of them.

  Wyatt squatted on his haunches. “Johnny, that hat looks awesome on you. You like it?”

  “I love it! Thank you, Mr. Wyatt!” He threw his arms around Wyatt and squeezed.

  Wyatt smiled, this time for real, and hugged her son back. “Good.” He pointed at the other little boys at the table. “These are my nephews. Toby over there is nine, and is Kade’s son. And these six-year-old look-alike monsters are Hunter’s boys, Cody, Tripp and Eli. Boys, this is Johnny, and his mom, Frankie.”

  A chorus of heys and Hi, Miss Frankies filled the air, competing with the country song playing.

  Maddy patted the bench next to her. “Come sit here.”

  Wyatt stood and plucked Johnny up, then swung him over the bench to sit next to Maddy. He took the plate from Francine and set it in front of her son, then bent over and whispered something to him.

  He stood up and looked at her. “You want to come eat with us?” He indicated the table right next to the kids.

  She nodded and sat on the wood bench, surprised when Wyatt dropped down next to her. She leaned closer and spoke over the loud music. “What did you say to John Allen?”

  Wyatt tipped his head closer to her. “I told him to have fun, but if he wanted to come back and sit with you, we’d be right here.”

  A little spurt of warmth pinged her heart that he’d thought of her son’s well-being.

  “Thank you.” She hesitated, then said, “You’re a really nice guy, aren’t you?”

  He tugged his hat down lower, shadowing his face. “Just don’t let it get around. I have a rep to maintain.” He scooped up a forkful of coleslaw.

  She wondered why he hadn’t been snatched up yet, like his brother Nash, but then, she’d already surmised he preferred to be alone. Which was a shame. Once you got past the prickly exterior and the bad-boy, leave-me-alone persona, he had a kind heart.

  Wyatt leaned closer to her so she could hear him. “I’m riding out to check for stray cows tomorrow. Okay if Johnny comes with me, learns to ride a horse?”

  His request darn near knocked her off her chair. Her gut instinct was to say no, but she looked at the next table to see Johnny laughing with the other kids, something he rarely did. She couldn’t keep him wrapped in cotton batting forever. “Is it safe?”

  “Yup. He can wear a helmet instead of a cowboy hat, and this first time, he’ll ride with me. Thought I could show him some riding.”

  She glanced at him, studied his hazel eyes. “Why are you being so nice to John Allen?”

  He shrugged. “He’s a good kid. Funny. He’s never been on a horse, has he?”

  “No.”

  “Kids need fresh air, wide-open spaces. Adventure. Especially being cooped up in a city made of concrete.”

  “Wait a minute. It’s not like I keep him in a cage in a concrete and steel building.” She sent him a bemused look, then shrugged. “Besides, I grew up there, and I turned out okay. We go to Central Park—”

  He raised his hands as if in surrender. “Didn’t mean to put down your city. Just figured he might as well have fun, go exploring, while you’re here. Besides, I don’t want him wandering around the ranch alone.”

  She should say no. Keep the peace with her father during the merger—he was certain to blow a gasket. “Can I go, too?” The minute the words were out, she wanted to yank them back. She had a lot of work to do, but if she stayed up late and worked... She wasn’t quite ready to let John Allen spend the day out in the wilderness with someone she hardly knew, even though something told her Wyatt would protect her son with his life.

  “You sure the boss man won’t mind?”

  Leaning closer to his ear, she whispered, “Let’s just not tell him. Deal?”

  He turned just then, and they were kiss-distance apart. The sly grin slid off his face, and his eyes dipped to her mouth, studied it. She ran her tongue over her lips.

  “You ever ridden?” He swallowed, hard.

  Her mind flashed to riding him in a dark room,
moonbeams bathing them in light and shadow. The traitorous tingles were back, rampaging now in her lower belly. She slid her eyes down to his lips—couldn’t help it, really. Full and perfectly shaped—She reined in her imagination and asked, “A horse?”

  He nodded, still staring at her.

  “I took—” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “I took lessons years ago in school, and used to ride in Central Park before I had John Allen.”

  Wyatt Sullivan was dangerous. Dark, delicious—and she wanted him. Which surprised the hell out of her.

  But she couldn’t give in to those wants—needs...dark-of-night cravings.

  * * *

  WYATT BEAT HIMSELF up inside. What the hell just happened? They’d been talking about horses one minute, and the next, suddenly he’d been staring at those soft lips, wanting to take her back to his cabin and find out just how soft they were.

  It was just a fantasy. No way would she go for a man like him. She was beautiful, smart, a real class act. He was a dropout who’d spent more time behind bars than he’d let on today. That was his own business, but if the obvious differences didn’t make her run, learning about his time in Texas would. He might live and work on a luxury guest ranch, but it wasn’t his way. She needed some rich guy to sweep her off her feet and keep her in the lifestyle she was familiar with.

  He was black leather, dusty jeans and sweat-stained T-shirts, covered in muck, hay and engine grease. She was fancy shoes, pink suits and expensive jewelry, and she belonged on a pedestal.

  A heavy hand clapped onto his shoulder, and he knew without looking it was his dad, and it was time to do the Sullivan Ranch duty.

  “Evenin’, everyone,” Angus said. “Boys, the music’s been playing awhile, but no one seems to want to dance. Can y’all get something started?”

  Sure, he asked nicely, but in Angus-speak, it meant get up and do your duty.

  Wyatt and his brothers all stood and nodded at the women. As he walked away, he heard Kelsey tell Frankie she was in for a treat.

  He hated this part. Fact was, he stayed away from the guests as much as he could. He’d much rather be walking the land, fixing what needed fixing, tending to the animals—hell, even going on a week-long cattle drive just to avoid the guests who ran amok on the ranch. The cows and horses were much more his speed than these corporate types who came here to vacation.