A Family for Tyler

by Angel Smits

  She looked at the huge cooler and caught the glint in his eye. If she could get away with it, she’d take the cooler, but there was no way she could even get it out of the bed, much less to the shore. “Smarty.” She held out her arms to take the poles and tackle box.

  Wyatt laughed again, the sound warm in the afternoon air, and pulled the cooler across the metal truck bed with a loud crunch of shifting ice cubes inside. He lifted the thing as if it weighed nothing and Emily had to make a concerted effort to not stare at the muscles in his arms.

  It was bad enough that he led the way down the trail and she had to pretend not to watch his tight backside.

  Wyatt had picked the perfect spot. She emerged from the line of trees to find a flat stretch of beach where waves gently lapped at the shore. Tyler should be safe enough here.

  Tyler dropped the blanket and the chair in the sand then ran over to the water’s edge.

  “Don’t go too close yet.” Wyatt set the cooler down and Emily froze as she watched the muscles of his back and shoulders flex. The other night, under the trees, those strong arms had held her so gently. She ripped her mind away from that train of thought.

  This could be a really long afternoon.

  What had she been thinking? He turned around just then and their eyes met. She blinked and hastily handed over the poles. “Here you go.” She turned away and started spreading out the blanket and setting up the chairs.

  “You’re gonna fish, right, Ms. Ivers?” Tyler stood next to her. How did the kid move so fast?

  “Yeah, you’re gonna fish, right?” Wyatt mimicked Tyler’s voice. He was laughing at her. Well, she sort of deserved it for agreeing to come along. She couldn’t blame an eight-year-old for this—she was the adult here.

  But the idea of going back home to her lonely townhouse with the memories of Sugar so fresh and painful... It wasn’t an option.

  “I hadn’t really thought about it.” She’d left her office this afternoon in a skirt and heels—fishing hadn’t been on her agenda.

  “Have you fished before?” Wyatt asked.

  “A few times. When my dad was alive. And with Granddad a couple times.” She hadn’t thought about those trips in years. She didn’t remember actually fishing. She remembered being a child, just like Tyler, thrilled to be included, happy to run wild in the woods and in the water. “I haven’t fished since.”

  Wyatt frowned and looked more closely at her. The laughter was gone. Time stretched out, filled with a multitude of unspoken words and feelings. “Come on,” he said softly. He extended a pole toward her. “Take this one.” Then he handed a smaller one to Tyler. “Let’s go.” Wyatt headed to the water with the remaining pole in one hand and tackle box in the other.

  Even when he wasn’t trying, his swagger caught her attention. She swallowed. Why hadn’t she just said no? She could sit here on the blanket, watch and relax. Why was she agreeing to do anything that would put her in close contact with him?

  “What now?” Tyler looked up earnestly at Wyatt. Her heart skipped a beat. He was such a good kid.

  And Wyatt, ever patient, knelt down beside the boy. “Well, that’s what we’re here to figure out.”

  Moments passed as Wyatt taught Tyler the basics of baiting the hook and casting a line. She remembered her dad doing the same with her. Her eyes burned with the memory. She missed him.

  Time passed quickly and soon the sunset on the water painted the horizon red. Emily remembered why she hated fishing right about the time Wyatt put the worm on the hook. She returned to the blanket to watch the red fade to gold, then dark.

  Tyler, on the other hand, had discovered his latest passion and had no intention of leaving anytime soon. Within five minutes of casting out into the waves he’d caught a small sunfish.

  “Too small to keep,” Wyatt had proclaimed and Tyler reluctantly agreed to put the little thing back in the water. It had, however, cemented the boy’s desire to catch another one.

  “Don’t go any farther out,” Wyatt warned him and headed back up the beach.

  Watching him approach set Emily’s nerves on edge. He hadn’t yet said anything, hadn’t made any reference to the other night. Not that they’d had even a minute alone. Until now.

  He reached into the cooler and pulled out a longneck. He offered her one but she shook her head. Like that would be a good idea? Not. He twisted off the top and she watched, all too aware of the man just feet away. Forcing herself to stop acting like a fool, she looked back at Tyler.

  “So why the hell did you come by today?” Wyatt didn’t move, but the way he stood over her put her on guard. It didn’t help that she didn’t have much clue of what had made her turn left instead of right out of Mom’s driveway. Oh, she’d come up with several great tales—lies, if she was being honest with herself—as she’d driven the all-too-familiar country road.

  Emily didn’t meet Wyatt’s gaze. “I...had to go out to Mom’s old place today to pick up a few things. It’s just a few miles east.” She waved in that general direction.

  This wasn’t anything like what she’d rehearsed. “They need a few of her summer clothes at the facility.” Yesterday’s visit with Mom came to mind and she let herself smile.

  Wyatt settled down on the blanket beside her and she nearly yelped. He was so close. Almost as close as he’d been the other night. She glanced from him to Tyler. Tyler wasn’t paying them any attention, his full concentration on the water.

  She kept her focus on the boy as she spoke. She cleared her throat. “I’ve closed the file.”

  Wyatt didn’t react, but she knew she’d surprised him. He didn’t move. She glanced at him. She wasn’t even sure he breathed.

  “Tyler’s custody file? I thought we were done. I have the paperwork. What do you mean?” he asked softly.

  How did she explain? Sitting here next to him muddled her thoughts. She needed to put space between them.

  When she started to get up, he caught her wrist. “Don’t,” was all he said.

  She stared down at his hand curled around her arm. Big and strong, he could... She swallowed hard. Normally, she’d yank her hand away and loudly declare her independence if a man grabbed her. But the kiss under the trees had changed all that.

  She took a deep breath. “I signed the orders. It’s final, but the file is still open. Remember we made it provisional? Besides, I never should have put so many visits in the court orders. I was being paranoid. He’s in a great place.” She spoke softly and realized her mistake when Wyatt leaned closer to hear.

  She tried to focus on what she needed to say. “We, uh, can open it if—when—his dad or mom comes back. But until then, he’s all yours. No more visits.”

  Inches, mere inches, separated them. Stumbling through the words wasn’t what Emily had planned. Wyatt apparently didn’t care as his hand slipped around the nape of her neck and urged her closer.

  His lips were warm and his hand solid as he leaned in. She should have felt overwhelmed but she didn’t. It was more a feeling of coming home. She sighed and leaned in toward him, wanting so much more.

  “Uncle Wyatt!” Tyler’s screams tore them apart, and Wyatt was halfway to his feet before either of them realized the boy was standing just inches away. “Look!”

  A bright, wet sunfish, not much bigger than the last, thrashed around in the air as it dangled from the line of Tyler’s fishing pole. “Look, Ms. Ivers.”

  “Uh...how nice.” Emily tried not to laugh as she wiped the drops of water that had flown off the fish and onto her face.

  Wyatt did laugh. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get him back to the water.”

  “Aw, do I have to?”

  “Yeah. He needs to grow a little more.” The two had reached the water when an idea struck.

  “Let’s at least take a picture,” Emily suggested.

>   “Can we?”

  Wyatt smiled. “Yeah. Use my phone.” He pulled it out of his pocket and tossed it to Emily. After he gave her instructions, she’d taken the photo of them both with the poor, hapless fish.

  “Lemme see.” Tyler jumped in the sand as Wyatt knelt to release the fish.

  The photo filled the phone’s screen and Emily compared the grinning man in the picture with the one at the water’s edge. Her heart sped up as she remembered what Tyler had interrupted.

  Just then, Wyatt looked up and smiled at them both. Their eyes met. He didn’t look away. Emily’s breath caught and her heart seemed to drop to her knees.

  The heat in his gaze told her they were far from done.

  * * *

  DRIVING INTO THE yard, Emily noticed the bunkhouse was dark. A lone security light was all that lit the barn, and the yard light cast a wide circle. Inside, the house was dark.

  Tyler remained asleep, leaning against Emily’s shoulder as Wyatt steered the truck in next to her car and killed the engine.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Uh, what for?”

  Loaded question. She laughed. “A lovely afternoon.” Their eyes met and held in the dim light over Tyler’s head.

  “Uh, let me get him.” Wyatt got out and came around to help Tyler. “Hey, buddy. Time to go to bed.”

  “Don’t wanna,” Tyler mumbled, snuggling tighter to Emily. They both laughed.

  “Come on, kiddo.”

  “Let me scoot out,” Emily offered, though the doorway wasn’t wide enough for them both. She nearly groaned when her body slid almost the entire length of his.

  She hurried to hold the screen door as he carried the boy inside.

  “Be right back,” Wyatt said. “Come on in and make yourself at home.”

  She should leave. It was late. She had to get up early to go to the office tomorrow. But...it was Saturday, so she could justify sleeping in.

  “Stop thinking.” Wyatt’s voice came back to her from halfway up the stairs. She laughed and walked into the house.

  He took the steps quickly, and she could hear him moving around upstairs. Walking into the living room, Emily fought the urge to run. She didn’t turn on any lights, as the porch light fell in chunks through the big picture window. No sense announcing to the whole world that she was still here. It was bad enough that her car sat out front.

  Emily heard Wyatt come back down, heard him walk over to her, felt his body heat against her back. She tried focusing on a picture frame that sat atop an antique hutch.

  Strong, work-roughened fingers brushed the hair away from her neck, and Emily closed her eyes. His lips found the soft skin of her nape as his arm snaked around her waist. He pulled her back against his chest and her breath left her in a whoosh of anticipation.

  Slowly, he slid his hands down her hips and over her thighs, then back up her arms to her shoulders and down her sides again. “I’ve wanted to do that all afternoon,” he whispered.

  She leaned her head back against his shoulder, burying her face in the crook of his neck. The soft stubble of his chin felt wonderful against her cheek and nose. She didn’t even try to resist the urge to put her lips against the strong ridge of his jaw.

  His hands splayed across her belly and she felt the shudder of his restraint. “Wyatt,” she whispered, every inch of her aching for more. “Touch me.”

  Slowly, as if expecting her to change her mind, Wyatt inched his hands up to her breasts. When he cupped both in his palms, she couldn’t hold back the sigh, nor the instinctual way her body melted into his.

  “You’re making me crazy,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck as his fingers gently squeezed.

  She gasped, words lost as she spun around in his arms and found his lips with hers. Her entire body throbbed and she wanted, needed, to taste him.

  He was happy to oblige. His hands anchored her hips to his then moved up again to slip between them, back to where her breasts pressed against his chest. Dear God, he knew every on switch that her body had.

  “Not here,” he croaked.

  “What?” When had he remembered how to talk?

  Wyatt pulled slightly away, though his fingers stayed right where they were, making coherent thought on her part impossible. She pushed her hips up against his, not letting him off the hook.

  “I’d gladly take you right here. Right now.” As if to accent his words, he pushed his hips forward, and they both groaned. “Upstairs. Now,” he growled.

  She felt his hesitation as he struggled to wait for her agreement. “Yes.” That one word was all it took.

  She barely remembered hitting a single stair tread. But as they passed Tyler’s closed door, she hesitated. “What if...”

  “That kid could sleep through a train speeding through his room.” Wyatt stopped and gently but firmly pushed her up against the wall. His lips found hers and she wasn’t thinking about Tyler, or the wall, or anything except Wyatt and how alive she felt.

  * * *

  WYATT REMINDED HIMSELF he wasn’t a bumbling, randy teenager, though he sure as hell felt like one. He had enough experience to make this good for both of them. He would do this right.

  “Come on.” Moving away was nearly painful. He took her hand and led her away from the wall and two doors down to his room.

  He didn’t hit the light switch—the windows were open and the white glow from the yard light showed her clearly enough. It fell over her, shining in her hair and outlining all those curves that had made concentration impossible for the past four hours.

  “Beautiful.” Complete sentences were beyond him. The T-shirt she wore made him wish for the buttoned-up blouse she’d had on last night. He wanted to unwrap her like a Christmas present.

  Slowly, he untied the knot at her hip, slipping his hands up beneath the soft fabric. She helped, grabbing the hem and pulling the whole thing over her head. The lace and cotton wisps of her bra that greeted him hiked up his pulse.

  He didn’t even have to ask. She reached behind and popped the hook. And there she was, just for him.

  Wyatt swore as his patience snapped. He ducked his head and took the first taste. Sweet heaven. She trembled in his hands, and scooping her up, he strode to the bed.

  He didn’t move away, but with one hand slid open the fly of her jeans, shucking the pants down her legs as fast as his shaking hands could manage. The tiny slip of lace between her thighs put cardiac arrest on the menu.

  He leaned over and planted a soft kiss right there on the sweet lace, claiming her and surrendering in the same instant.

  Emily leaned up on an elbow, her breath coming in short pants. “Now you.”

  She reached for his shirt collar and he backed away. If she touched him right now, he was pretty sure he’d lose control. He stepped back and did it himself, all under her watchful eye.

  “Damn boots,” he cursed as the last one thudded on the wood floor. And then he was there beside her, fitting her curves. His groan of relief filled the room when his lips finally found hers again.

  * * *

  EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS MAN was different. Emily had been kissed before, but nothing like this. Never had she trusted so completely. Never had she wanted so badly. Never had she felt so treasured.

  “Wyatt,” she whispered his name, claiming him as much as caressing him with her voice.

  “Mmm?” His lips traveled down her neck, across her shoulder and over her breast. His tongue on her nipple made her arch into the intimate kiss. He took her into the warmth of his mouth, and she buried her fingers in his hair, holding him there.

  His fingers feathered down her belly to nudge her legs apart. Carefully, almost reverently, he touched her. Each pass of his thumb sent her desire rocketing higher. She knew what lay ahead, and while she yearned for it, s
he didn’t want to rush it.

  “Let go, babe,” he whispered.

  “You. Want you.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Now!”

  Wyatt laughed and groped in the nightstand for protection before finally aligning his body perfectly with hers, and with a single thrust, settled inside her.

  Neither of them moved for an instant, their gazes locked, his holding that same promise she’d seen beside the lake. She tried to hold back, but she wanted him, all of him, moving inside her. She nudged him on, until finally he gave in and pulled her tight.

  Wyatt was so attuned to her body, to her reactions. And when her cries of pleasure tore loose from her throat, his lips came down hard on hers. He swallowed the sound as he thrust one last time, and his body shuddered against her, sending them both over the edge.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE WINDOWS STOOD wide-open. In town, Emily never left her windows open. In the dead of summer, she kept them closed tight and cranked the air-conditioning.

  It was the antithesis of her childhood, where they’d had no A/C—the old single-wide had probably been built before it was invented. So they’d sweltered all summer, pretending that open windows let in cool air.

  That was why she’d awoken with such a start at the horse’s whinny.

  For a brief moment, she’d thought she was back at the trailer. And Sugar was waiting in his stall for her, expecting to be fed, combed and ridden like hell across the hills.

  But when she opened her eyes to the strange room, to the warmth of Wyatt’s body, she knew she wasn’t back there. Relief warred with the renewed grief that Sugar was gone.

  Instead of waiting for the panic to creep in, Emily looked at the man asleep beside her. The sheets slipped low enough to entice her. Memories—new memories—cascaded into her mind. She tried to tell herself that last night had been a mistake. A wonderful, amazing mistake, but a mistake. She should have never come out to the ranch. She should have stayed in town, safe in her apartment. Should have never...