Falling for the Rebel Cowboy

by Allison B. Collins

  He gripped the marble counter, leaned closer to the mirror, looked himself in the eye.

  The doorknob rattled, and he jerked. He dried his hands, opened the door for the guest waiting outside and moved out of the way. His boots echoed as he walked through the big lobby toward the smaller kitchen the family used.

  He pushed the door open and saw Kelsey and Maddy sitting with Johnny at a quiet table in the corner.

  Wyatt barely got past the doorway when Johnny saw him and jumped up, running full tilt toward him, cookie in one hand. Wyatt swung him up into a hug, every protective instinct making him hold tight.

  “Everything okay?” Kelsey asked in a low voice.

  “Fill you in later.” He sat in the vacated chair, Johnny on his lap, and picked up a napkin to wipe the milk mustache off the kid’s face. “You liking those cookies?”

  Johnny nodded. “Yup.”

  Wyatt took one off the plate. “I can’t resist Mrs. Green’s chocolate chip cookies.” He took a huge bite, made an exaggerated moan and rubbed his stomach. “Mmm, good.”

  Johnny smiled, but Wyatt could tell it was an effort.

  Poor kid. He shouldn’t have seen what just happened outside.

  “You wanna play a game?” Maddy piped up. “Grampa has a bunch here for us.”

  Johnny shook his head, then laid it on Wyatt’s shoulder.

  Kelsey stood. “Maddy, we should get home, get your daddy his dinner.”

  “Okay.” Maddy walked over to Wyatt and hugged both him and Johnny. “See ya.”

  For being so young, Maddy really cared about people, and Wyatt loved her all the more for it.

  The door swung shut behind Kelsey and Maddy.

  “You okay, Johnny?” he asked, wondering if maybe Johnny would open up now that the others were gone.

  Johnny yawned. “I wanna go to sleep now.”

  Frankie walked into the kitchen, and Wyatt noticed her pale cheeks were almost stark white now. “That didn’t take long.”

  “Peter decided not to press charges but made sure Brady won’t go near his daughter anymore,” she whispered. “How’s my little man?” she asked, leaning over to kiss Johnny’s head.

  “He wants to go to bed,” Wyatt said and stood up, preparing to hand him off to Frankie.

  Johnny tightened his arms around Wyatt’s neck. “Don’t leave yet, Mr. Wyatt.”

  “How about if I carry you upstairs?”

  Johnny nodded, yawning again. “I wish you were my daddy.”

  Wyatt’s steps faltered, and the breath backed up in his lungs. He swore his heart squeezed tight. Me, too, bud. Me, too.

  Then he wondered if Frankie had heard what Johnny said. How would she feel about that?

  Frankie led the way to her suite, then opened the door. Wyatt followed her to Johnny’s room and helped her get him settled for bed.

  All tucked in, Johnny suddenly grabbed Wyatt’s hand. “Don’t leave.”

  “You need to get some sleep, bud.”

  “Just a little while? Please, Mommy? Can’t you both stay?”

  Frankie looked at him, a question in her eyes.

  “Sure.”

  Frankie took off her shoes and lay down next to Johnny, gathered him in her arms. Wyatt pried his boots off, then lay behind her and pulled them both close.

  Was this what he wanted? A family? To be responsible for not just a wife, but a child...or even more children?

  He’d been trying to focus on getting his life back on track, settling into the life of a rancher. Getting to know his brothers as adults, not the kids they’d been before he left.

  Live down his reputation as a town rebel. Be a productive member of society.

  But holding Frankie and Johnny, being there when he was needed...

  It felt right.

  And it scared him more than he’d ever been before.

  Chapter Eleven

  I wish you were my daddy kept ringing in Francine’s head.

  Her son’s statement had shocked her the night before. And if she felt that way, how did Wyatt feel?

  The words had echoed through Francine’s head all night, circling and circling, until she had finally fallen asleep. At some point, Wyatt must have pulled the blanket up over them.

  All three of them.

  Now morning light filtered in through the open curtains of Johnny’s room.

  Wyatt’s arm was still wrapped around her middle, his deep breaths fluttering her hair.

  She raised her arm to check her watch. After seven. She really had to get ready for yet another round of meetings. The days all seemed to blend one into the other.

  Their time was fast coming to an end at this idyllic ranch.

  And with Wyatt.

  Wyatt’s arm moved, and he rubbed a hand down her hip. Nothing sexual, just comforting, and she wanted him to keep doing it.

  But he sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry. Guess I was more tired than I thought.”

  “It’s fine. I’d just rather—”

  “That I not be here if your father comes by, or when your coworkers start waking up.”

  “Sorry. But after yesterday’s drama...”

  He shrugged. “I get it. Family ain’t easy, and neither is a family business. My pop and I butt heads about the Sullivan image, too.” He stood and walked into the living room. “Watching that incident yesterday, I could see it from both sides. I was that bad boy, lusting after the prom queen, and her father threatened me to stay away from her. Hell, they all did.” He cleared his throat. “Yesterday, I saw what a father goes through, wanting to protect his child.”

  “Yeah, I was always the good girl. I went to school, went to Dad’s office more often than not, ate my vegetables and stayed far away from boys in black leather.” She grinned.

  “You ever regret not acting out?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe.”

  He shook his head. “If you had, you wouldn’t be the amazing woman and mother you are now.”

  She followed him, her heart pinging at his words. “Thank you for everything you did yesterday. And for staying last night. I know it meant a lot to Johnny.” She kissed his cheek. “And to me.”

  A muted ding sounded, and Wyatt pulled his phone out. He grimaced. “I need to get going. See you later.”

  She followed him to the door, watched him walk down the hallway. What a man. He’d been there when Johnny needed him. Had been there when she needed him.

  Lingering at the door, she allowed herself to daydream. What would he be like as a husband? She already knew he was great with kids. She imagined herself kissing him goodbye for the day, sending him off to do ranchy stuff, while she—

  While she what?

  She had an MBA, had graduated from Harvard, could run a major investment company.

  What could she do on a ranch in Montana?

  She’d be useless outdoors, knew nothing about animals or handiwork. And indoors... She couldn’t cook. Or bake. Wasn’t handy with a needle and thread. She’d need something to fill her days, something with meaning.

  She shook her head. She and Wyatt were a long way from having these kinds of thoughts. Time was wasting, and she was expected to open the morning meeting in forty-five minutes.

  Those daydreams would have to wait for another day.

  * * *

  ANOTHER LONG DAY of meetings, and Francine was bone tired. Honestly, she hoped all this hard work paid off, and that the details of the merger could be hammered out before the big board meeting scheduled for November. The meeting loomed over all of them like a bomb ticking off the seconds. She just hoped it wouldn’t explode in her face.

  She’d been worried about leaving her son in day care all day after the events of the previous day, but Wyatt had texted her after breakfast to say he’d watch Johnny if she wan
ted. How had he known her thoughts? What a guy. Ready and willing to step in when she needed him. When Johnny needed him.

  The man was a mystery to her. A good one, but still a mystery.

  And so very good with Johnny. That was what counted the most. They had bonded almost from the first moment they met. Wyatt talked to Johnny like a person, not like a little kid.

  She started to walk out of the conference room, phone in hand to text Wyatt, see where he and Johnny were.

  “Francine, stay a minute, please,” her father said.

  She turned around, saw him still seated at the head of the table. “Yes?”

  “I know it’s late, and you’re tired, but I’d like you to write up a report tonight. You’ve had several days now to assess everyone, and I want to hear your thoughts. It’s critical for everyone to fold into the company, or this merger may not go through.”

  “Oh.” She fiddled with the cuff of her blouse, disappointed. She’d hoped to spend the evening with Wyatt and her son.

  “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

  “Can I give it to you first thing tomorrow?”

  “Perfect. Thank you.” He stood up and gathered papers into the briefcase. His cheeks were ruddy, which usually meant one thing.

  “Are you taking your blood pressure medicine?”

  “Of course,” he said but didn’t look up.

  “Dad, you’re supposed to take it every day. You can’t skip any, or I’m going to call your doctor. Did you run out?”

  “No. Don’t worry about me. I’m healthy as a horse.”

  “Then why is your face that color?”

  “Just tired, like everyone else.”

  “Why don’t I order you some dinner and sit with you while you eat?”

  He grimaced. “I don’t need you to coddle me, Francine. I’m going to order from room service, read some reports, watch the news and turn in early.”

  She pointed a warning finger at him. “Promise? And no alcohol, either.”

  “One drink won’t kill me.”

  “Dad, I mean it. Do I have to warn the staff not to serve you anything alcoholic?”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, yeah? Try me.” She softened, slid her arm around his shoulder. “I want you to be around a good long time, to watch Johnny grow up. Wentworth’s wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  He smiled. “You’re a good daughter. Now go get my grandson out of day care and get your own dinner.”

  They walked out of the conference room, and he headed up the stairs to his suite just as her phone dinged with an incoming text.

  She glanced at the readout to see Wyatt’s text about fixing dinner for her and Johnny. Her stomach growled, and she couldn’t wait to get home and see what he’d concocted. That breakfast he’d made—

  Wait, home?

  Her steps faltered. When had she started thinking of being with Wyatt as being home? She’d let herself daydream about them as a family, but those were just silly thoughts. Not real.

  He’s important to you. And to Johnny.

  But what would happen when they left? Would they stay in touch? Or were they just like any other guests—once gone, out of mind?

  She couldn’t let her heart get any more involved. It would be hard enough on Johnny to leave. Maybe Wyatt would agree to at least keep in touch with her son. She didn’t want him to be hurt.

  Not ever again.

  Chapter Twelve

  Twenty-four hours later, Wyatt was still shaken by the events of the day before. Johnny had been so upset at seeing the screaming match and near fight. He’d rearranged his schedule to stay on the ranch so Johnny could spend the day with him, not wanting him to be in day care only to sneak out again.

  Now he and Johnny sat on the patio in his backyard, waiting for Frankie to arrive after her meeting was finished. He would put the steaks on as soon as she got there, already had potatoes wrapped in foil and baking. Johnny had convinced him she’d want suhmores, too, so the ingredients were ready for later.

  Johnny put his video game aside and pulled his backpack closer to him, dug inside. He pulled a book out. “Will you read to me?”

  Wyatt’s heart sank. “How about you read to me?”

  “Don’t you like reading?”

  “It’s okay.”

  Johnny handed him the book, climbed up on his lap, then opened it to the first page. “You start, and we’ll take turns.”

  Wyatt looked at the words, at the letters squiggling around on the page. It always got worse in times of stress, which had been numerous the last couple of days. He shut his eyes, tried the calming exercises Heather had taught him. He’d gotten so much better at reading when he was by himself, but to read out loud to this little boy he loved?

  And that was it.

  He did love Johnny. Wished he really were his own flesh and blood.

  And he didn’t want to look stupid in front of the kid.

  “It’s okay, Mr. Wyatt. I’ll start.” Johnny pointed at the first word and began reading, putting his finger under each word as he went along.

  How does he know?

  Frankie had said he was smart. That they had tested his intelligence, and it was beyond his four years.

  “Hey, guys,” Frankie said, stepping out onto the patio.

  “Mommy!” Johnny scooted off his lap and ran to her. She swept him up into a hug.

  Wyatt stood and followed, sweeping them both into his own hug. He kissed her cheek. “How’d it go today?”

  “Eh. Feels like one step forward, two steps back. But I’m sure it will get better. We’re close, I know it.”

  “Good,” he said. But at the same time, he wished it wouldn’t go well. Because when they were done, Frankie and Johnny would be leaving to go back to New York.

  “What have you two been doing?”

  Johnny chattered on about all they had done that day, taking care of animals, fixing things.

  Wyatt grabbed the steaks and put them on the grill. He opened a bottle of wine he’d gotten from the lodge, poured a glass for Frankie.

  He handed the glass to her, and she smiled at him.

  Just like that, his day was brighter.

  “You okay eating on the patio tonight? I’ve got the fire pit going, and a heater in case it gets too cold. I like to stay outside as long as possible before the snow hits and we’re stuck inside till spring.”

  “Sounds good to me.” She inhaled through her nose. “It smells so good out here, between the food and the fresh Montana air.”

  He brought plates and utensils out to the patio and set the table.

  “Can I do anything to help?” Frankie asked.

  “Nope. Just relax.”

  “I actually have to do some work. Do you mind if I curl up out here?”

  “Didn’t you put in long enough hours today?”

  “I know, I know. But I need to write up some notes to give Dad first thing in the morning.”

  “Be my guest. Let me know if you need anything.”

  She sat on the patio couch, and he pulled a light blanket out to cover her lap. She smiled at him, and warmth squiggled through his chest.

  He went back to his dinner prep, making a salad and biscuits, talking to Johnny, answering his thousand questions about the ranch and animals. The kid had really picked up on ranch life, and he knew Johnny loved it out here.

  It would devastate him and the kid both when Frankie’s business here ended and they packed up to leave.

  Once the steaks were done, he plated everything and called them to the table.

  Frankie cut Johnny’s steak for him, then sliced into hers and took a bite. He waited, hoping it was done to her liking. She sampled everything on her plate, torturing him.

  She finished chewing, pointed at him wi
th her fork. “You, sir, need to open a restaurant.”

  “Nah,” he said, but it still pleased him that she liked his cooking. “I don’t cook fancy, just plain food.”

  “And there are a lot of people who like that type of food.”

  “Too much work running a restaurant.”

  “But running a ranch isn’t?”

  He shrugged.

  “I also still think you need to record professionally. That’s where your true talents lie.”

  “Don’t want to sing in public.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “Frankie.” He smiled. “Just eat, okay?”

  She shrugged and went back to her food.

  After dinner, she insisted on helping him with the dishes, even though he knew she was exhausted. It made for a pretty picture, the three of them in his cabin.

  He shook his head. Don’t go there. She’s leaving soon.

  He carried a tray of s’more items outside and set it down on the low table by the fire pit. He got Johnny’s skewer readied with a marshmallow, then held one out to her.

  She shook her head. “I’m still full from dinner.” She leaned forward and snatched a piece of chocolate off the tray. “But I will take a piece of this,” she said and bit into it.

  He sat back next to her on the couch, and she pulled her tablet onto her lap, then held out a sheaf of papers to him.

  “Do you mind reading this?”

  “What is it? I don’t know anything about investment banking.”

  “This isn’t about that. It won’t take long. Please? I need to finish my report and send it to my dad.” She laid the papers on his lap. “I’m stuck on something and want to make sure I used the right terminology from this psychological study. Sometimes it helps hearing it out loud.”

  His shoulders hunched, dread roiling through his stomach, and he wished he hadn’t eaten that second biscuit.

  He looked down at the white page glaring up at him, the words jumping all over the place. Inhaling, he tried to slow his heart rate, but it didn’t help. He held the pages closer, then farther away, hoping he could focus.

  She opened her mouth, but a high-pitched whine interrupted her.