“That box. I don’t know what it did to you, but I hope it learned its lesson.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Wyatt said. “What do y’all want?”
“We all,” Hunter began, and waved a finger to indicate their other three brothers, “think you’re the idiot.”
In a flash, Wyatt was back in the schoolyard, kids taunting him, calling him stupid. But this time it hurt even worse considering it was his own brothers thinking he was stupid.
“You’re an idiot for letting Frankie leave,” Nash said.
“You mean like when you let Kelsey leave?” Wyatt snapped back.
“I didn’t let her leave. She ran. And I tried like hell to find her.”
Hunter held an envelope out to Wyatt.
“What is that?”
“Open it,” Nash said.
Wyatt opened the envelope and pulled out an airline ticket.
He squinted, concentrated on the words. A ticket to New York City.
He held it up. “What’s this for?”
“Go get her,” Hunter said.
He frowned, jerked his head. “I can’t. I’m not the right man for her.”
“Do you love her?” Nash asked.
Wyatt looked at Nash. “Yes.”
“Would you die for her?”
“It feels like I already have,” he said quietly. “But with my past—”
“That right there is the key word—past. What happened, happened. Have we all made mistakes we regret? Yes. But you can’t undo it, can’t relive it. Just move forward. What matters is that you love her, will take care of her and Johnny, and do your best by them, right?” Nash pointed at him.
“But her dad agrees I’m not right for her. He’ll never accept me and that’ll weigh on Frankie and Johnny. I can’t—”
“No father ever thinks any man is right for his daughter. You think Maddy will have it easy when she starts dating? Won’t happen till she’s forty, but she’s got me, four uncles and four male cousins—five if you hurry up and go get Frankie.”
Wyatt grinned, getting his point. He waved the ticket. “But I don’t even know where she lives. New York is a huge city.”
Hunter held out another piece of paper.
Wyatt eyed it like it was flaming bull cookie. “What’s that?”
“You may not know where she lives, but you do know where she works. Wentworth & Associates, Fortune 500 company. It’s in the phone book. On the internet.” Hunter tapped the piece of paper. “And the address is on this piece of paper.”
“Your flight leaves tonight at eight,” Luke said. “Couple of stops, but it’s the fastest way to get you there.”
Wyatt glanced at Kade. “What do you think?”
Kade grimaced. “Women are evil creatures, designed to torment men.”
“That was just your ex-wife. Not every woman is like Sheila,” Hunter said.
“Whatever. As I was saying, women are made to torture men. But you’re miserable without Frankie and Johnny, you’re snapping and snarling at all the ranch hands—and all of us—so I agree. Go get them.” Kade help up a slim jeweler’s box. “And you can give her this. Housekeeping found the necklace on the floor behind a chair in her suite.”
Emotions crowded in Wyatt’s chest, battling to take hold.
“I’ll take Sadie and the pups to my place and take care of them,” Luke said.
“Thanks, guys. All of you. I mean it,” he said, his throat tight. Before he broke down, he ran out of the barn, got in his truck and sped to his cabin.
He prayed he could apologize enough to Frankie, and that she’d understand why he’d hurt her and Johnny.
Hope blossomed in his chest, and that tight ache eased a bit.
The three of them.
A family.
Chapter Twenty-One
Wyatt was grateful to his brothers for booting his ass out of Montana to get Frankie. He’d gotten off the plane and into the swirling madness of a New York City airport, grabbed a cab and was now stepping out into a tidal wave of people. He fought his way through to the revolving door of Frankie’s office building and walked into quiet.
He really hoped she hadn’t taken a long weekend or was in meetings out of the office.
He walked toward the security guard’s desk, and an older black man stood up.
“Help you, sir?” the guard asked.
“I’m here to see someone on the—” he checked the paper Hunter had scribbled on “—forty-second floor.”
“Do you have an appointment?” the guard asked, reaching for a clipboard.
“An appointment?” Great. “No. It was a spur-of-the-moment trip. Do I need one?”
“Yes, sir. Who are you here to meet with?”
Wyatt shook his head, feeling lower than a flea on a tick. “All the people who work here, I’m sure you don’t know her.”
“I can ring upstairs for you.”
Wyatt grimaced. “I was hoping to surprise her.”
“Who?”
“Like I said, I doubt you know her. Francine Wen—”
The guard smiled for real this time. “Ms. Wentworth. Charming lady. Just returned from Montana...” His words trailed off, then his eyebrows popped up. “From a ranch in Montana,” he said, looking at the hat on Wyatt’s head.
“That’s my ranch—well, I’m part owner. She told you about it?”
“Ms. Wentworth always stops by to ask about my grandkids. She mentioned it when she returned a couple weeks ago.” The guard leaned forward and lowered his voice. “She’s one of the very few who take time to do that.” He leaned back again.
Wyatt grinned, the first time it felt genuine in who knew how long. “That’s my Frankie...er, Francine.”
The guard reached for something on his desk, handed him a slim black key card. “Seeing how you and Ms. Wentworth are old friends, I’ll let you go on up and surprise her. Just sign in here, then use this key card in the elevator. Be sure you bring it back to me. My name’s Oscar.”
“Thanks, Oscar. I sure appreciate it.”
Wyatt headed to the elevators and was soon whisking up to the forty-second floor in a sleek, modern chrome-and-glass cube with some kind of classical music piped in. Might have been elegant and classy, but he still felt trapped, closed in.
He knew for a fact he’d never been in a building this tall.
And he never wanted to do it again.
The minute he’d landed, he’d felt everything closing in on him—people, buildings, cars. He wanted to get Frankie and Johnny and head home, to the boundless countryside, where the wildlife outnumbered the people. Like it should be.
Here there was wildlife of a different kind. And he didn’t like it one bit.
The elevator opened into a quiet lobby with paneled walls and modern artwork. He stepped out onto carpet so thick his boots sank into it. Every stick of furniture was so polished he could see reflections. Glass gleamed and sparkled everywhere, and it all looked like money. Lots and lots of money.
“May I help you, sir?” an equally polished woman asked as he approached the large desk in the middle. Wentworth & Associates was emblazoned on the wall behind her in gold lettering.
“I’m here to see Francine Wentworth, please.”
“I believe she’s in a meeting, but let me buzz her assistant.” The woman punched a button, then spoke quietly into her headset, then glanced up at him. “Ms. Wentworth’s assistant will be with you shortly. Just have a seat over there.”
Wyatt walked toward the chairs and couch in front of the windows. The wall opposite the windows was gleaming, polished wood—and held one of Kade’s paintings. It was one of the biggest pieces he’d done during a particularly rough time. A muted winter scene, all gray and white, with the barest hints of the colors of sunset. Frankie was right—it fit in grea
t with the furniture.
“I’m Isabella, Ms. Wentworth’s assistant. How may I help you?”
“Wyatt Sullivan, ma’am,” he said, turning to another polished woman with hair slicked back into a tight bun. “I need to speak with Frankie—Francine for a minute, please.”
“What is this in reference to?”
“It’s personal.”
“And how do you know Ms. Wentworth?”
“Your executives stayed at my ranch for two weeks. As I’m sure you know, if you’re a good assistant.”
Her eyebrow quirked up ever so slightly. “Yes, sir. What do you need to speak with her about? Maybe I can help you?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, it’s personal.”
“Ms. Wentworth is in a very important meeting and cannot be disturbed.”
He waved his hat toward the chairs by the window. “I can wait over there till she’s done.”
“I’m afraid the meeting will last the rest of the day. You wouldn’t be very comfortable here,” she said, raking her eyes from his messy hair to his dusty boots.
“Look, ma’am, I’ve just traveled seventeen hours from Montana to speak with Ms. Wentworth in person. I promise it won’t take long. I just need to ask her one question.”
She pursed her ruby-slick lips. “I repeat, I’m very sorry, but she cannot be disturbed. If you’d like to leave a note or your number, I’ll give it to her when she’s free tonight.”
“Fine.”
She handed him a small notebook covered in leather as soft as...well, as soft as the hide of a newborn calf.
He paced away from her for some privacy and scribbled a note, tore it out of the notebook, handed it back to her. Isabella took the notebook back, then pulled an envelope out of the back of it.
The note went in the envelope, and he dug the jewelry box out of his pocket, tucked it inside with a prayer Frankie would be receptive. He handed it over to Isabella, then turned and walked to the elevator. He punched the button and glanced back to see her watching him. Making sure me and my dusty boots leave, I’m sure.
The elevator whisked him back to the ground floor as silently as it had taken him up. He exited, then walked back to the guard station.
Oscar stood up, smiled at him. “Did you see Ms. Wentworth?”
Wyatt shook his head. “Her dragon wouldn’t interrupt a meeting,” he said, handing the key card back to the guard.
Oscar laughed. “Yes, that’s definitely Isabella. I’m sorry you didn’t get to see her. Will you be in town for a while?”
Wyatt pointed with his hat out the door. “I left her a note that I’ll be waiting down here in that little coffee shop, if that’s okay.”
“Very good, sir.”
Wyatt walked into the café, bought a bottle of water and a muffin, then settled in to wait.
* * *
HOURS PASSED. The sunset came and went, and Wyatt could barely keep his eyes open. He’d given in and bought a newspaper earlier, and slowly worked his way through all the news about a city he couldn’t wait to get the hell out of. Oscar had finished his shift, stopped by to wish him luck.
He checked his watch—well after eight o’clock, and the coffee shop server had said they would be closing soon. He stood up to stretch and glanced around the lobby for the fifteen hundredth time.
And saw her.
His Frankie.
At least he thought it was his Frankie. Except tonight she was definitely Francine Wentworth. She was dressed real fancy in some sort of expensive navy blue evening dress and a fur coat, for Pete’s sake. Her hair was pulled up fancy-like, and the diamond earrings dripping from her earlobes were so big he could see them sparkling all the way across the lobby.
Her father stepped up next to her and they walked out of the building just as a sleek black car stopped in front of them. The driver hurried around to open the door and then whisked them away.
And she never looked his way.
Not once.
I guess I have my answer.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Monday dawned gray and chilly, and a brisk wind blew Francine into the office building. The dreary weather matched her mood perfectly.
She still hadn’t forgiven her father for not telling her the true story about Wyatt’s imprisonment. Upon her return to New York, she’d had to demand his assistant give the private investigator’s report to her. Reading it had broken her heart.
She hated the thought of him cooped up in a metal cell for so long. Alone, no family or friends. No one on his side. No wonder he’d gone back to Montana, with the wide-open spaces. She’d had several nightmares about him being in prison, and her heart ached for him.
But he’d pushed her away, said he wasn’t right for her. He might have been innocent, but it had to have been a terrible thing to admit to going through. It still stung that he hadn’t trusted her to tell her the truth earlier. They’d have worked through their differences by now and could already be planning a life together.
It had been a rough two weeks—Johnny was still despondent about leaving the ranch. She’d really thought he’d be dealing with it better by now—but then, she wasn’t, either. Every time he cried, she nearly broke down.
She’d never really watched television much, but now she kept it on just for noise in their too-quiet apartment. And of course it seemed like every show, every commercial, had cowboys in it, so she’d flip the station. About the only thing that didn’t have cowboys were the numerous football games, so that was what played in the background while she’d prepared for the board meeting over the weekend.
Although she did draw the line and turned the TV off when the Dallas Cowboys game started. She was mad at the entire state of Texas for incarcerating Wyatt...and, well, the word cowboys was an arrow to her heart.
The mirrored doors of the elevator reflected back that yes, she did look as bad as she felt. Not even her top-of-the-line concealer could hide the smudges under her eyes. The pace at work was really taking its toll on top of sleepless nights spent aching for Wyatt. Once they got through the board meeting today, when, hopefully, the merger would be finalized, she could take a break. Maybe she and Johnny could go somewhere, relax. Maybe Hawaii. Get some sun on her pale cheeks.
The elevator stopped and she walked out into the lobby, then followed the same path she’d taken to her office the last nine years.
She walked into her corner office and dumped her purse and briefcase on the credenza, wanted to collapse into her chair. Monday morning and there was already a big stack of mail on her desk. Well, it would have to wait till after the board meeting.
Isabella walked into her office, handed her a cup of steaming black coffee. Not even seven thirty, yet her assistant always beat her in.
Francine sipped the coffee and winced. Not at all like Wyatt’s coffee.
“Thanks. Have a good weekend?” she asked, not really listening to the standard answer her assistant always gave.
“Let me say first that I am so sorry, Ms. Wentworth,” Isabella said.
This was new. “What’s wrong?” Isabella had been with her all these years, and she’d never looked so upset.
“I forgot to give this to you on Friday night. Again, I’m so sorry,” Isabella said, holding out a bulky white envelope with the company logo embossed on it. “It got buried in a pile of papers on my desk, and I just found it.”
Francine took the envelope and started to open it, saw Isabella leaving and shutting her door, which was very odd.
She pulled out a single piece of paper, and a long thin box fell out onto the desk.
Frankie, I’m here in New York. I love you.
Forgive me for pushing you away.
I’ll be waiting for you in the coffee shop downstairs.
Love, Wyatt.
PS Housekeeping found your necklace.
<
br /> Her hands trembled so much she dropped the note on top of the box.
Isabella had said she forgot to give it to Francine Friday night. He’d been here? In the lobby? And she wasn’t told?
She pushed the buzzer on the intercom, and the door opened almost immediately.
Isabella walked in like she was heading to the guillotine. “I’ll understand if you fire me.”
“I’m not going to fire you. But why didn’t you get me out of the meeting?”
“Whatever that cowboy had to say couldn’t have been more important than the meeting you were in. I know everything hinges on the board meeting today. Your father would have been livid and fired me, or worse, if I’d pulled you out.”
“That’ll be all,” Francine said, hating the wobble in her voice. “Shut the door, please.”
The door closed quietly behind Isabella, and Francine dropped into her chair. She picked the note up, traced her finger over every word, every letter.
She felt like a teenager holding her boyfriend’s note, knowing he’d written it just for her.
God, she missed him. He’d opened up so much since the first time she met him. Was it just a month ago? She missed his voice, his laugh, the way his full lips quirked when he teased her about something.
She missed the gentle way he had with her son. That he never talked down to Johnny. His fierce protectiveness for both of them.
She missed the way he held her tight, and the way she always felt safe with him. Her eyes started watering, and she lost the battle not to cry.
The door opened. “Are you ready for—” Her father stopped short. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He’d never understand, but she had to try.
“I just found out Wyatt came to see me on Friday, but no one told me,” she said, grabbing a tissue and wiping her tears.
“What the hell was he doing here?”
“He came to tell me—”
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’ll deal with it later,” he said. “Do you have your notes ready? I want us in the boardroom, a united front, when the board walks in.”
He opened the door, but she stayed in her chair.
Falling for the Rebel Cowboy Page 17