Falling for the Rebel Cowboy

by Allison B. Collins

  “God, Frankie. I need you. I want you so bad.”

  “Oh, Wyatt. I want you. Inside me. Now,” she moaned in his ear, then told him just what she wanted.

  He groaned again, his hand leaving her to unfasten his jeans.

  She pulled her skirt up, slid out of her panties, almost desperate for him.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “You deserve more than a fast tumble in a barn.”

  “Wyatt, all I care about is being with you, right here, right now. I don’t need fancy trappings. Just you.”

  * * *

  WITH HER WORDS, Wyatt got lost in her. The feel of her body, her mouth on his. She was like a drug, an addiction.

  He marveled that she had sought him out, in the middle of the day, in a barn, for God’s sake.

  But he was grateful that she didn’t want hearts and flowers, fancy silk sheets or a feather bed. It wasn’t his way, not at all, but she still deserved it.

  No woman had ever affected him like this. Hell, there’d never been a woman like her. He wanted to touch her, all of her, body and soul.

  He drowned in the feel of her wrapped around him, felt humbled when she convulsed and cried out his name, over and over.

  Hell, he didn’t deserve her. But for the moment, this beautiful, bright, brave woman was his, and he sent up a prayer of thanks.

  She held him tight as he found his own release in her arms. This went so much deeper than just sex, deeper than two people meeting to fulfill an urge.

  He eased back, saw tears on her cheeks. Panic flared. “God, did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head. “Far from it. I—I just—” She took his hand, pressed a kiss to his palm.

  “What is it?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  She was so beautiful it made him ache. Dust moats floating on the sunbeams streaming through the window surrounded her, made her look like a golden-haired angel.

  He wanted to tell her he loved her. But fear—fear of failure, fear of failing her, fear of failing himself, fear of his past, fear she’d reject him—kept his words bottled up deep inside him. So for now, he’d keep quiet, show her without words that he loved her and Johnny.

  He vowed then and there he’d do what he could to earn the right to be with her, to love her.

  And be worthy of her possibly loving him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Wyatt mounted Deacon and waited for his brothers at the beginning of the gravel road. Just after Frankie left the barn that morning, they’d pretty much hog-tied him into going on a brothers’ campout, like they used to do when they were young, before they’d all headed their separate ways.

  He’d been hoping to see Frankie, but Nash put his foot down and said they all had to go. Long past time to do it. Besides, she’d texted him that her meeting would run really late.

  Hunter reined his horse in next to Wyatt. “Did you bring pie?”

  Wyatt looked at him and rolled his eyes. “Don’t you ever get tired of pie? You ate most of them last night. You’re gonna blow up one day.”

  “Tired of pie? Dude—be serious. Can’t resist your pies. And if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll have to kill you.” He patted his stomach. “Besides, I always work off the calories.” He grinned.

  Wyatt shook his head. Some things never change. Which, when he thought about it, wasn’t all bad. At least when it came to his brothers being there for each other.

  When the cow patties fell, they were on hand and ready to help. Including sending money when he needed it so he could hire a lawyer a couple of years ago.

  Nash rode up, followed by Luke and Kade. “We ready to roll?”

  “Where are Toby and the triplets?” Luke asked.

  “Pop and Bunny are having a grandkids night, so they’re up at the house,” Nash said. “They even invited Johnny, since the kids all get along.”

  Damn. Wyatt was really tempted now to beg off so he could do some hog-tying of his own and whisk Frankie off to his cabin. Maybe he could fake a snakebite and leave the campout early.

  But as he watched his brothers interact on horseback—shoving, one-upping each other with tall tales and joking around—he realized maybe he did need this time away with them. He started looking forward to sleeping under the stars that night, getting away from it all. Someday they might all go their separate ways permanently, and then where would he be?

  He rolled his eyes at himself now, for the weird mood he was suddenly in, and nudged Deacon faster.

  They cut off the main ranch road and angled across the meadow, galloping toward the setting sun.

  “Hey, we’ve got an audience behind us,” Hunter said, looking behind him.

  They all looked back the way they’d come. Several women stood watching him and his brothers ride away from the ranch. Wyatt recognized a few of them as being on the Wentworth retreat, others as new guests. He couldn’t figure out why they were all standing around like that.

  “Women,” Kade said, disgust evident in his voice. “They all go for romance, think cowboys and ranchers are some kind of hot commodity.”

  “Well, I’d say we are,” Hunter said, smirking. “Imagine what they’re looking at—five studly men on horseback, riding side by side, silhouetted against the setting sun. Beautiful, just beautiful,” he sniffed, pretended to wipe away a tear.

  “You are such an ass,” Kade said. But at least he was laughing now.

  “Hey, I could write a romance book,” Hunter protested.

  “Just for that, you don’t get any pie,” Wyatt said.

  “So you did bring some! Awesome.”

  They rode for almost an hour, to the old spot they used to camp at when they wanted to get away from their dad and his grief.

  Everyone had a chore to set up camp, and they got it done fast. Wyatt had the fire going, steaks sizzling, potatoes baking in foil in no time—these being mealtime staples for him, he usually had plenty on hand. Ice-cold beer, tops popped off, and in hand, and they were ready to relax.

  Wyatt inhaled, sniffing the air like a coyote scenting a hidden meal. “Man, there’s nothing like the scent of a campfire and meat grilling outdoors. Someone ought to bottle it—men everywhere would buy it.”

  His brothers all lifted their heads and sniffed the air, and it cracked him up. “Y’all look like a pack of wild dogs.”

  Which of course sent Hunter off howling at the rising harvest moon.

  Luke unpacked the metal plates and utensils and set them by the fire, ready for the grub.

  Wyatt noticed how old the plates looked—dinged, scratched, bent in some places, definitely well used. ’Course, that was how he felt most days.

  But Frankie had brought some sunshine into his life. She and Johnny both had.

  Wyatt served up the steaks and potatoes on plates, handed them around, took the lid off the pot of baked beans. He didn’t mind being the designated chef—at least he knew then the food would be edible.

  “Hunter, how come you’ve had the triplets at the ranch so much lately?” Kade asked as he handed him a biscuit.

  “Yvette’s sick, has to get treatments a few times a week, so I get my boys to give her time to rest up.” This was the first Wyatt had heard of Hunter’s ex being sick. He hoped it wasn’t serious. “Her parents said they’d help, but you know the boys can be a handful.” Hunter’s tone was light, but sounded subdued.

  “Man, I’m sorry about Yvette. She’s always been good to those boys,” Luke said.

  “Let us know if you or she need help, ’kay?” Wyatt said.

  Hunter cleared his throat. “Thanks. I know she’ll appreciate it.”

  “What do you all think about that romance author group Bunny booked for after the holidays?” Kade asked, changing the subject.

  “She said at least one of them is coming to do research, right?
I’d be happy to let her pick my brain—’cause you know I’m the best-looking one out of all of us, so I’m sure she’ll choose me anyway,” Hunter said, grinning and back to his old self.

  Wyatt lobbed a biscuit at his head, but Hunter caught it in midair and took a big bite. He was always the one to try to lighten the mood.

  “Some of them are probably married,” Luke said. “That’d put a hitch in your plans for seduction, bro.”

  “Last thing we need is for the ranch to be overrun with a bunch of women, running around, poking into everything for their books,” Kade said.

  “Yeah, yeah. We all know you hate women,” Nash said. “I admit Sheila screwed you over real good, but you—” Nash pointed his fork at Kade “—need to move on. How do you know the love of your life isn’t out there somewhere, just waiting for you to find each other?”

  The biscuit Kade flung hit Nash square in the head and bounced into the fire.

  “Whatever. We all know you found your soul mate, Nash. Don’t have to rub it in to the rest of us. Or tell us we all have that special someone out there, just waiting, pining for a big strong cowboy like me to find her,” Luke said, clasping his hands against his chest and batting his eyes.

  Now they all laughed, even Kade, which Wyatt thought was progress. Two laughs in one night.

  “Hey, instead of picking on me, how about Wyatt? He’s got someone on the line,” Nash said.

  “She’s not on the line,” Wyatt said, pissed his oldest brother would say that. “Frankie isn’t someone to play with. Besides, she’ll be leaving here soon...” His voice trailed off, and he rubbed a hand across his chest, trying to ease the ache.

  “Have you asked her to stay?” Hunter asked.

  “Why the hell would she want to stay out here with me? On a remote ranch? She’s got a master’s degree, for shit’s sake. A high-powered job.”

  “Yeah, and a dad who’d lock her in an ivory tower if she tried to stay,” Kade said. “He’s kind of bossy, isn’t he? I was in the conference room the other day next to where they’ve been meeting, and I thought he was going to throw someone through the wall. You think Dad can yell? This guy’s got him beat, no contest.”

  Wyatt held his hands up. “Hey, no need to preach to this choir, bro.”

  “Yeah, I heard you’ve had a couple of run-ins with him,” Luke said. “I wonder if Wentworth knows his golden-haired daughter helped deliver a cow.”

  Kade spluttered, spit his beer out. “She what?” He wiped his mouth, looked at Wyatt. “You let her do that?”

  Wyatt waved him off. “Hey, I don’t let her do anything. Woman has a mind of her own. Besides, she didn’t actually help deliver it, as nimrod here says. She tried to help me keep the cow calm. And it worked.”

  “Her kid sure is cute,” Kade said. “He latched on to you, looks up to you.”

  A surprising flood of emotion surged through Wyatt to realize Kade was in his corner. “Yeah, he’s a great kid. As much fun as he’s having here, I wonder what his life is like in New York.” Wyatt cleared his throat. “I mean, Frankie’s a great mom. She’s just busy all the time. I’m sure the nanny gets him outside for fresh air.”

  “In traffic, smog and crowds?” Hunter deadpanned.

  “Frankie said they go to Central Park,” Wyatt said, frowning at Hunter.

  “Dude, don’t get defensive. We’re on your side.” Hunter punched his shoulder. “We all talked about it—she could be your soul mate.”

  “Why the hell would you think that?” Wyatt stared into the fire, muttered, “What would she want with a guy like me?”

  “Are you kidding me? You’re a catch—just like we all are. Well, ’cept Nash, who’s already been caught hook, line, sinker, fry him up, that fish is done.” Hunter cast an imaginary fishing line and reeled it in.

  Wyatt had to grin. Hunter was—well, Hunter. No one else like him on the planet.

  “Kade, is that movie crew still coming to film here?” Nash asked.

  “Yeah. They had some preproduction delays, so now it’ll be after the first of the year. They want to film in the snow anyway, make it authentic. They’ve got all the cabins and rooms in the lodge booked. We need to make sure the herds are cleared out of the acreage to the east.”

  “Dad said they’re bringing trailers and vans, and I don’t want the animals getting caught up in that mess,” Luke said.

  Kade rubbed his hand over his chin. “Let’s just hope they don’t blow up any of the barns.”

  “What barns?” Wyatt dumped the crumbs off his plate into the fire.

  “Like over at the Quinn ranch,” Kade said.

  “What the hell happened over there? Was anyone hurt?” Wyatt asked, frowning.

  “You didn’t hear about it? Almost two years ago—Oh, yeah, you were...away. Shit,” Kade said. “A producer contacted Mr. Quinn to use part of his ranch for filming some suspense movie. They were storing some special kind of explosives they use in movies in an empty barn, and someone accidentally blew it up. Quinn had to prove to the fire chief he hadn’t done it for the insurance money. The producer forked over some big bucks to Quinn.”

  Wyatt tugged his hat down, stared at the orange and yellow flames. A log shifted, snapped in two, and the flames greedily attacked both halves. Two years ago he’d been locked up in a cell, desperate for someone—anyone—to believe him.

  “Hey, I never did ask—did you join a chain gang? Form a love connection in the pokey?” Hunter asked, then snorted. “Ha, get it? Pokey?”

  Wyatt blinked—then busted out laughing. First time he’d ever been able to laugh about that god-awful time. “You really are a shit, you know?”

  “At least he’s our little shit,” Nash said.

  “Since I’m everyone’s favorite brother, can I get some pie now?”

  Wyatt reached for the container holding the pies and brought out the cherry one—Hunter’s favorite.

  Hunter pulled a fork out of his coat pocket, held it ready and waiting. “Awesome. I call dibs on that one.”

  Wyatt shook his head, but pulled out the other two pies he’d made as backup and cut thick slices for everyone—except Hunter, who had dug into the cherry pie. No doubt he’d eat the whole damn thing tonight or finish it off for breakfast.

  Wyatt finished his piece of pie and put the plates and the few biscuits left over into the bear-proof container. He shifted to stretch out on his bedroll next to the fire, stuck his hands in his pockets.

  His brother’s voices blended into the sounds of a Montana night in the valley. He stared up at the sky. The stars were so vast and beautiful—like no other place on earth.

  A wolf howled somewhere, and they stopped talking, listening for how close to their campsite it might be. Another wolf answered, his howl long and undulating, one of the loneliest sounds on earth.

  Wildlife notwithstanding, this was where Johnny should be growing up. This was where Frankie should want to live—endless pastureland and freedom from the pressures and expectations of her father and the company. He shook his head. What was he thinking? She had her own mind—he couldn’t make it up for her.

  Another log shifted in the campfire, sending a spray of sparks straight up into the air, rivaling for a place among the stars.

  The temperature had dropped several more degrees, sending a cold wind over him. He buttoned up his long duster and just drifted, content to be here for the time being.

  He wanted to figure out what to do about Frankie. He loved her, and he thought she cared for him. Maybe could even love him?

  Yawning, he decided he’d live in the moment and wait to see what happened.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Wyatt had to admire Frankie for finally convincing her father to let them all have a day off. Wentworth had grudgingly admitted that they were finally on track and could take the time off as long as they spent ev
ery minute through their final weekend working. But he’d refused to attend the harvest festival.

  Late on Friday morning, Wyatt parked his truck near the entrance to the fairgrounds, and they all climbed out. They got their tickets and headed inside to a whirlwind of noise and activity. He thought Frankie’s eyes were almost as big as Johnny’s as they looked at everything the festival had to offer.

  Autumn flowers and leaves decorated everything from booths to streetlights to buildings. The only thing that rivaled the town’s decorations was the dramatic backdrop of reds, yellows and oranges on the trees sloping up the mountain.

  He loved this time of year. The weather was crisp and cool, but not so bad you couldn’t stay outside all day. The air smelled cold, with hints of wood burning, the scent of coming snow and lots of fried food—the ultimate in any festivalgoer’s agenda.

  He held up the schedule. “What should we do first?”

  “Everything!” Johnny said.

  “Okay, bud. We’ll do everything.” He looked at the schedule. “Mrs. Green has entries in two contests—pies and preserves. We have to be there when they announce the winners. Hey, Frankie, you might be interested in the livestock show. There are usually a lot of cows.”

  “Ha-ha,” she said, punching his arm. “All I have to do is look out the window of the lodge to see cows.” But she laughed, getting into the spirit of the festival.

  He listed everything on the schedule. “And it ends tonight with an amateur talent contest and a dance.”

  “Well, we have to attend that,” Frankie said.

  “The contest?” he asked.

  “No, silly. Well, we can go to that, but I meant the dance. I promise not to step on your boots...too much.” She laughed.

  “It’s a date.”

  They linked hands, all three of them, and set off to explore the festival.

  He usually preferred to keep to himself, didn’t care for crowds, but he had to admit he was having a good time. And it was all due to Frankie and Johnny. He no longer felt quite like an outsider in his hometown.

  The festival was even bigger than he remembered it being before he left. Arts and crafts booths had Frankie enthralled with handmade items, and he was loaded down with things she couldn’t resist buying.