by Erin Wright
With a sigh, she opened the door to find a nervous-as-hell-looking Wyatt standing there.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“Hey.” He swallowed hard. “Can I come in for a minute?”
“Sure.” She swung the door open wide so he could come walking in. She wanted to say something sarcastic, like, “But only if you promise not to be an asshole,” but decided against it.
“I wanted to apologize,” Wyatt said, turning around to look at her. Jasmine came walking over and began nudging his leg, looking for affection.
“Then apologize,” Abby snapped.
Maybe her temper wasn’t quite under control as much as she thought it was.
He stared at her. “What?”
“You said you wanted to apologize, not that you were apologizing. If you want to, I suggest you do.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. Jasmine had looked adorable enough to convince Wyatt to pick her up, and she was busy purring in his arms with happiness at the attention she was getting.
Cheater.
Her cat should only be loyal to Abby, but alas, she was loyal to anyone who petted her.
Wyatt cleared his throat and started again. “Abby, I am apologizing.” He looked her straight in the eye and continued, “I apologize for being a jackass to you the other day. You came over to tell me the truth, and I acted totally inappropriately. It’s not your fault that you can’t have children, and instead of showing you understanding, I ripped into you. I never should have, and I have no excuse for it. Please know that I am sorry.”
He was staring at her, his dark blue eyes haunted and worried. She knew Wyatt. She knew that he’d apologized – and meant it – maybe once or twice in his whole life.
He meant it now.
And that meant a lot to her.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice coming out tight and high. A part of her wanted to cry, but she’d been around men her whole life. The fastest way to completely freak a guy out was to turn on the water works. She swallowed the lump in her throat down instead.
“So where does that leave us?” she asked. The question hung over them like a mist over a gloomy forest. They couldn’t go anywhere; they couldn’t move on, until they figured that question out.
He shrugged. “I don’t know if I’m ready to answer that question yet. I understand if that means that you don’t want to be around me. I’m asking you to take a chance on me when I don’t know what I want yet. These past four days have been hell on earth. I’ve been damn miserable since I threw you out of my house.”
“Good,” she said, and stuck her tongue out at him.
He let out a startled laugh and said, “I guess I deserve that.” Jasmine, Traitor of the First Order, had completely melted into Wyatt, stretched out so far in his arms, Abby was a little afraid she’d just plop right out and fall on the floor. Wyatt was stroking her from head to ass, and Jasmine was purring up a storm.
“I’ve known you my whole life, Abby. But until that night at the convenience store, I didn’t actually know you. You were just someone closer to Declan’s age than mine, and I always had my own thing going. I can’t pretend that not having kids is a small thing to me. It’s a huge deal. But these past four days have shown me that you are a huge deal to me, too. Will you give me the time to figure this out?”
“I can’t have you resenting me for the rest of my life, Wyatt Miller. That isn’t fair to me. If you choose me, you choose me knowing what you’ve chosen. I can’t have it any other way. I can’t have someone in my life who resents me for circumstances beyond my control.”
“I know.” He gently put Jasmine down on the couch and with a disgruntled sniff, she began giving herself a bath. Wyatt moved to stand directly in front of Abby, picking up her hands in his and staring at her intently. “I need time. I’m not ready for that discussion. Not yet. Give me time to sort myself out. Don’t give up on me yet. I also can’t decide that being with you is worth giving up the dream of having kids, if I don’t really know you. Not like I should. I know that you have a terrific laugh and a forgiving heart and you’re a hell of a kisser. And that your cat is just about the most adorable thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. But I don’t know you, not yet, and I need to. Before I take that next step.”
She stared at him solemnly for a long moment. “Fair enough,” she said. “I appreciate you being honest with me and telling me how things stand. Just know that I won’t always be okay with how things are right now. Eventually, you’ll have to shit or get off the pot.”
Wyatt threw his head back and laughed. “Fair enough,” he said, echoing her words. “Now, are you gonna come with me to Adam’s place? That little girl with the braids – I think she thinks I drove you off. Last time, she did nothing but interrogate me about where you were at.”
“Did you tell her that you drove me off?” Abby said tartly, turning to her bedroom to get dressed.
“Oh hell no. I wasn’t sure I’d live through that revelation.”
“You always scared of nine-year-old girls with pigtails?” she asked saucily, standing in the doorway of her bedroom.
“Just on days that end with Y,” he volleyed back.
She shot him a grin, her first true smile since he showed up. “Let me get dressed and then we can head out. We shouldn’t be late for your community service hours; I hear your probation officer is a real hard ass.”
“The worst!” he shouted at her through the closed bedroom door. She grinned to herself. They were back to normal-ish again. And right then, she was willing to grab onto that with both hands.
Chapter 31
Wyatt
Life around Abby was maddeningly wonderful. Horribly amazing. Stupendously awful.
All of that and more.
They’d settled into a routine; when she wasn’t working at the courthouse or out on patrol, he’d come pick her up and drive her out to Adam’s place. They’d laugh and chat the whole way out there, and then go their separate ways once they arrived. Abby had a group of kids who loved her and anytime she wasn’t able to make it out there, they spent the whole time whining to anyone who would listen about it.
Not that he could blame them. Without Abby there, there was no sunshine. There was no happiness. Which seemed utterly dramatic and over the top to him, but also damn true.
Rhonda told him the other day that he was happier than she’d seen him since she’d started working with him. Which was also true. He wanted to smile now, which wasn’t something he could’ve necessarily said before. It was, to be quite honest, a totally new experience.
He and Jorge spent some time pouring over seed catalogs and discussing the newest weed killers on the market. Sometimes, they had to get one of his grandkids in to help with the finer points of their discussion, but they got things figured out. He was as set as he was ever going to be for the new season. He even went down to the bank and signed the paperwork to borrow the money for that season’s operating expenses, to get that step out of the way.
He’d done all he could do, and now it was just time to wait for spring to arrive.
And wait for Stetson’s party to arrive.
He was kinda surprised by how much he was looking forward to it. If his parents had still been around, they would’ve been hitting the roof, thrilled to pieces at the idea of a new grandchild to welcome into the family. They’d done that once before…
He swallowed the pain down. Now wasn’t the time to get wrapped up in memories. He had Juan here, wanting to know how to get a bridle over a horse’s head without them trying to shimmy back out of it, and he had Abby over by Sonny, sending him lascivious glances through her eyelashes and…
He had a life to live. Not one to pine over in the rearview mirror, but to live today.
He couldn’t remember the last time he felt that way.
And it was a damn good feeling.
“Hold on, Juan, you’ve got to hold the bit in this hand, see?” he said, rescuing the bridle from his young
charge’s hands and rearranging it. He helped Juan get up onto the step stool. “All right, now start by sliding this into his mouth…”
Yeah, he had a lot to live for right now.
Chapter 32
Abby
It’d been a long day. A long-ass day, to be specific. Mr. Krein down at the library had gotten riled up over his overdue fines – again – and the head librarian had called for help – again – and after she’d gotten Mr. Krein settled down and willing to pay his fines, which was quite the feat if she did say so herself, all she wanted to do was go home and settle into a hot tub of bubbles and read. She ought to read a thriller set in the Middle East, since she just negotiated a peace as tricky as finding one in the Middle East would be, but before she could decide which author to pick up that evening, she heard her father hollering her name.
Dammit.
She walked from the front office area back to the sheriff’s office. She’d take offense and tell him to stop hollering at her like she was a little child, but he did it with all of the officers, not just her. This wasn’t a case of him not seeing her as an adult, but rather just a case of him being…him.
“Yes?” she asked, in an overly sweet tone of voice in the doorway of his office. He glared at her, catching the sarcasm dripping off her voice and not liking it one bit.
“Close the door behind you!” he barked.
A tiny part of her wished she had enough guts to walk out into the hallway and then pull the door closed behind her, but she was pretty sure she wouldn’t live through such shenanigans, so with a sigh, she stepped fully into his office and shut the door behind her.
“Yes?” she repeated again, just as sweetly.
He glared at her just as hard, but she simply looked back him, waiting for him to speak. Finally, he barked, “The rumor all over town is that my daughter is spending hours on end with a guy on parole here in this county. I—”
“Are you talking as my dad right now or my boss?” she interrupted. He stopped, his mouth gaping open.
“Your boss,” he finally ground out.
“Then I suggest you refer to me as your deputy, not as your daughter,” she said. She wasn’t yelling; she wasn’t snarky. She was simply pointing out information.
“My deputy,” he snarled, “is spending copious amounts of time with the town ruffian, who gets in more fights than Muhammad Ali. Is that better?”
“Your deputy is spending time with small children with learning disabilities, or children in the foster care system, teaching them responsibility and how to work with animals. A man on parole happens to be picking me up and dropping me off, but there is nothing more to it than that.” The one kiss they’d shared flashed through her mind, but she pushed it away. Nothing had happened since then, and for all she knew, nothing ever would. They hadn’t mentioned children or their future again after he’d come to her house that one day, and she had to face the fact that they may be “just friends” for the rest of her life. “What I do in my free time, especially if I choose to spend it doing community service, is none of my employer’s business.”
“Wyatt Miller is nothing but trouble,” her dad exploded, “and you know it! First, you pushed the line by volunteering to be his parole officer, but to actually go work with him while he’s serving his community service hours…it’s beyond the pale, Abby, and you know it.”
“You’re so goddamned sure he’s nothing but a screw-up,” Abby hissed, leaning forward on her father’s desk, planting her fists as she stared up at him, “that you’ve never bothered to get to know him. Maybe if you had, you’d have a different take on the situation.”
“He punched me!” Her father slammed his fist into the palm of his hand to emphasize the words. “There’s no denying th—”
“His wife and daughter were lying on the side of the road, Dad. What did you expect him to do – stop and ask politely if he could come through?”
“He was getting in the way of the EMTs. If he really cared that much about saving their lives, he would’ve let them work without interference.”
“God, Dad, are you really that cold-hearted?” She stared at him in disbelief. “You really think that Wyatt, in the most awful moment of his life, was supposed to rationally assess the situation and decide what the best course of action was?”
“I would!” her father volleyed back. “I know better than to get in the way of the people trying to save those I love!”
“And you’re a trained officer, for hell’s sakes, Dad. Wyatt is not. He’s just a sugar beet farmer. He doesn’t know how to react in situations where his family is dying in front of his eyes. It’s time to cut him some slack. Let’s talk about what’s really bothering you – that comment he made in the bar, about running the farm better than you.” Her dad flinched, and she knew she was right; his bluster about what Wyatt did and did not do on the side of the road was a cover for what was really bothering him: Wyatt hurting his pride in front of the entire community. “Did you ever happen to talk to him about what happened that night?”
“Why the hell would I go and do a thing like that? I’m not about to give him another chance to tell me what a screw-up he thinks I am, and—”
“Or you could have a completely different interaction with him than that, Dad.” She glared at him, all of her frustration on behalf of Wyatt showing through. She wasn’t holding back – she was fighting for the one person in town who had no one to fight for him. The one person everyone thought didn’t need a champion.
But everyone needed a champion. Even prickly farmers named Wyatt Miller.
“If you are sleeping with the guy,” her dad said, voice low as he too leaned forward, staring her down, “then just tell me. No need to try to make him sound better than he really is or make excuses for him. It’s time to own up to the choices you’re making, Abigail.”
Her head snapped back at that. Her father rarely called her Abigail, and when he did…well, it was safe to say that it wasn’t a good sign.
Abby suddenly felt deep empathy for Wyatt. To fight against this kind of deep-seated antipathy over and over again, for years on end…no wonder he’d withdrawn into himself. Sure, he didn’t make it easy to love him at times, and he’d made more than his fair share of mistakes. But this refusal to see him as anything but a monster…it had to be exhausting.
Something inside of her snapped. Snapped into pieces and she began grinning. Her father stared at her, slowly pulling back as her grin grew wider. “Wha…?”
“I just realized how freeing it is to not give a damn. No wonder Wyatt never does. Sheriff Connelly, the truth is, my shift ended ten minutes ago and I want to go home. Unless you actually have something to hold over my head, which I am quite sure you don’t or you would’ve told me already, you cannot stop me from hanging out with Wyatt Miller seven days a week. Hell, you can’t stop me from sleeping with the man. Damn, if I’m going to be accused of it, I might as well, right? Goodnight, sir.” And on that note, she spun on her heel and stalked out of the office, down the hallway, out the doors, into the weak winter sunlight, over to her cruiser, and hopped inside.
It felt good, damn good, to stand up to her dad. She pulled out of the parking lot, her tires squealing, her grin stretching from ear to ear. Her whole life, she’d always tried to please others. She’d done everything she could to keep the peace. She’d listened to her father, even when he was wrong. She’d done her best to make everyone happy.
Now, it was time to make her happy.
Chapter 33
Wyatt
He heard a vehicle crunching on the gravel outside and cocked his head to the side wonderingly. Who was here? Was Stetson here to argue with him again? Was Declan here to try to convince him that Stetson really was a sweetie after all? Declan always was one for impossible goals.
A car door slammed, boots on the front porch, and Wyatt reached over to click off the TV and pushed himself out of his recliner. Whoever it was, was in a hur—
His front door swung open.<
br />
“What the hell?” he said, and then he realized it was Abby. She was walking straight over to him and he just stared at her in shock. She was in her uniform and she had a real weird look on her face. Maybe this time, it really was something that had gone wrong – maybe Declan was hurt in an accident or—
She wrapped her hands around his head and pulled him to her, shoving her tongue into his mouth. Forceful, demanding, she pulled back and said, “If I’m gonna be accused of sleeping with you, I might as well be doing it.” She grabbed his hand and began dragging him towards the staircase, up to the second story.
A tiny part of his brain wondered for a moment how she knew where his bedroom was, but then remembered all over again – duh. She used to live here. Of course she’d know where the master bedroom was.
“Is there something going on that I ought to know about?” he asked, his mind whirling as they took the stairs two at a time. Not that he was going to complain about finally having a break in his dry spell, but it seemed like a good idea to figure out what was going on in that head of hers.
“Yeah, I live in a tiny town that thinks every little thing that happens is their business. If they’re going to get up in my business, then I should at least give them something to get up into, dontcha think?”
And with that, she shoved Wyatt backward onto his bed.
Chapter 34
Abby
Abby advanced on him, noting the shocked expression on his face with pride. The look, the twinkle in his eyes and the small upward turn of the corner of his lips told her that the shock in his eyes was the product of being taken off guard, not of fear or anger.
Good.
Abby didn’t bother with any of her clothes. The moment was too raw. This was about her getting what she wanted.