The Ranger's Reunion Threat

by Lara Lacombe

  She smiled at him, her eyes going misty. “Go on now. I have work to do.”

  Wyatt watched her walk back to the kitchen, his heart warming at the sight. Fifteen years ago, Diego had brought him home for dinner. Maria had taken one look at him—a skinny kid with clothes that were just this side of too small—and immediately tried to feed him. For Wyatt, the experience had been a revelation. His parents had left when he was young, so he’d grown up living with his grandfather. And while the old man had always taken care of the basics—food, shelter, education—the rest had been considered luxuries. It wasn’t out of stinginess on his grandfather’s part; they simply couldn’t afford much more than the necessities.

  “Come on,” Diego said, elbowing Wyatt as he walked past. “You can stay in your old room.”

  “Thanks,” Wyatt muttered. He and Diego had spent so much time together while growing up that the guest bedroom at the ranch house had become his home away from home. Had it changed much since the last time he’d been here?

  As it turned out, no. The second-floor room looked much the same, with the exception of new sheets on the bed. Diego grabbed a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from his own room, brought them back and handed them to Wyatt. “Go ahead and use Isabel’s bathroom,” he said, gesturing down the hall. “She won’t be in for a bit.”

  Diego left him to head for his own bathroom. Wyatt toed off his boots, stripped off his socks. Then he padded down the hall and ducked into Isabel’s bathroom, quietly closing the door behind him.

  It felt strange, maybe even a little wrong, to be in her space without an invitation. But he needed to wash away the dust and sweat from a day spent in the saddle. Odds were Isabel wouldn’t be pleased to find him there, so he needed to get in and get out before she saw him.

  He flipped on the water, peeled off his clothes. The hot spray felt good on his back and shoulders. He glanced around for a bar of soap only to find several bottles lined up along a shallow shelf.

  Seeing no other alternative, Wyatt reached for one. Shampoo—okay, that would work. It didn’t take long to wash his hair, so he grabbed another bottle. Body wash.

  All right, then.

  He squirted a dollop into his palm. The smell of night-blooming jasmine filled the air, making his heart thump.

  Isabel’s scent.

  He lathered up, rinsed off, cut the water. As he toweled dry, he caught whiffs of the heady floral that still clung to his skin. Memories of that night ten years ago rolled over him, heating his blood. The last time his skin had smelled like Isabel had been after they’d made love. They’d lain in each other’s arms, their breathing in sync as they’d watched the stars move overhead. He’d been so happy, so at peace with the world and his place in it.

  Wyatt had never felt such a total connection to another person before. He’d spent the past ten years chasing that feeling, trying to recapture the magic he’d experienced with Isabel. Surely there was someone else out there who could touch his soul the way Isabel had? If so, he had yet to find her.

  Shaking off the memories, Wyatt pulled on the sweatpants. As soon as he examined the shirt, he knew he was in trouble. It was far too small for him. Had Diego given him one of Isabel’s shirts as a joke, or by mistake? Either way, he needed another loaner. Maria would tan his hide if he came downstairs half dressed.

  Wyatt opened the bathroom door, stepping out into the hall.

  And very nearly collided with Isabel.

  “Whoa.” They both took a step back, avoiding contact. “Sorry about that,” he said.

  Her eyes widened as she looked him over. A wave of self-consciousness washed over Wyatt, making him feel as though he’d stepped out naked rather than simply shirtless.

  Isabel swallowed, fixing her gaze deliberately on his face. “Um, do you need clothes?”

  “Yeah.” He held up the shirt Diego had given him. “Your brother gave me one of your T-shirts by mistake.”

  Isabel rolled her eyes. “It was his turn to fold the clothes last time. Come with me.”

  He followed her down the hall, past the second bathroom and the faint sounds of the shower running within. She pushed open the door to Diego’s room and headed for the chair in the corner.

  At least, Wyatt thought it was a chair. At the moment it was piled so high with socks, boxer shorts and bandannas it looked like a mountain of laundry.

  Isabel started digging through the pile of clothes. “He hates folding,” she explained. “So when it’s his turn, he sorts everything by owner and simply piles all of his stuff in here.”

  “Maria lets him get away with that?” Wyatt didn’t imagine the no-nonsense woman would appreciate Diego’s approach to laundry.

  “She doesn’t touch our rooms,” Isabel said. “And she’s no fool. If she started folding Diego’s clothes, he’d simply surrender the sorting job to her, as well. It’s a classic case of feigned male incompetence.”

  Wyatt couldn’t help but smile. “Dare I ask?”

  She shot him a look as she worked. “You know what I’m talking about. You’re asked to do something you don’t want to do, so you do a crappy job hoping the asker will get fed up with your inability to do the task correctly. Then you get to sit back and pretend you tried to be helpful but your efforts just weren’t appreciated.”

  “Ah.” Wyatt had to admit that sounded familiar. It wasn’t an approach he currently deployed, but there had been many times during his teenage years he’d tried that tactic with certain chores. “I suppose you can’t blame a guy for trying?”

  Isabel snorted. “If you say so.” She straightened, apparently giving up on Mount Laundry. “I’m not finding any T-shirts in here. I’ll just grab you something out of his closet.” She opened the door, tsking at the sight of the mess within. “How does he live like this?” she muttered.

  Wyatt stepped closer, curious to judge for himself. Diego’s room certainly wasn’t spotless, but it didn’t seem too bad—just normal guy clutter. If Isabel thought her brother’s room was a wreck, what would she think about Wyatt’s cabin?

  Doesn’t matter, he told himself, accepting the plaid work shirt she offered and shrugging into it. She’ll never see it.

  “Need anything else?” she asked. Her eyes fixed on his fingers as he moved from button to button. The attention nearly made him fumble; he wasn’t used to having an audience while he dressed.

  Especially not a woman.

  He watched her face as he fastened the shirt. There was an emotion in her eyes he couldn’t quite identify—banked desire, perhaps? Or was that simply his imagination, seeing things that weren’t really there?

  She leaned forward and reached up, flipping out the collar of the shirt. He caught her gaze as she lowered her hands. Her breath hitched, brown eyes shining as she looked into his face.

  The air grew thick between them. Wyatt felt the faint stirrings of that old magic as the tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.

  “Isabel?” he whispered. Her name was part question, part plea. What was happening here? And did she feel it, too?

  He felt himself leaning in, as if pulled toward her by some invisible force. His heart thumped hard when she angled her head, moving slightly closer to him.

  “What’s a guy gotta do for some privacy?”

  Diego’s voice made Isabel jump. A guilty expression flashed across her face before she turned to her brother. “If you wanted privacy, maybe you should have given Wyatt a shirt that fit him in the first place.”

  Diego frowned, rubbing his hair with a towel. “What are you talking about?”

  Wyatt reached for the T-shirt, snagging it off the top of the pile of laundry. “This belongs to your sister.”

  “Oh.” Diego shrugged, as if this type of mistake happened all the time. “My bad.”

  “Got any more of my clothes in here?” Isabel asked, making her way to the d
oor.

  “I don’t think so, but feel free to look.” Diego tossed the one towel onto his bed while holding another around his waist, and started rummaging, picking out a pair of boxers and some socks. “It would probably be easiest if you folded stuff while you searched. You know, to help you figure out what you’d already looked at and what remains to be examined.”

  “I’ll pass, thanks.” Isabel’s voice was cotton-candy sweet. She shot Wyatt a look as she walked out of the room. He smothered a smile. Feigned male incompetence, indeed.

  “Are you really so lazy you can’t fold your own clothes?”

  Diego shrugged, yanking his boxers into place under the towel he wore around his waist. He tossed that towel to join the first on the bed. “It’s boring,” he replied. “And I’ve got enough to do already.”

  “You think your sister doesn’t?”

  Diego eyed him thoughtfully as he pulled a shirt from his closet. “She does,” he replied. “But she and Maria seem to be the only ones who care if my clothes are folded. If it bothers her that much, she’s welcome to do something about it.”

  “Fair enough.” Wyatt headed for the door, intending to give his friend the privacy he’d requested.

  “Since when did you care about Isabel’s schedule, anyway?”

  It was an innocent question, but Wyatt heard the subtle note of challenge.

  “I don’t.” He stopped at the doorway, glanced back with a shrug. “Just giving you a hard time, man.”

  Diego grinned. “Yeah, well, I’ve seen your place. You don’t have a lot of room to talk.”

  “It’s not that bad.” Wyatt lived in housing provided for Big Bend employees, which amounted to a small cabin in Panther Junction, a complex in the middle of the park. It wasn’t fancy, but it held the essentials and kept the rain out. Things were a bit dusty and he could probably stand to sweep the floors more often, but overall Wyatt liked his little home.

  “Whatever you say, brother.” Diego turned his attention back to getting dressed. Wyatt returned to the guest room and stepped into his boots. Then he set off down the hall, heading for the stairs. Maria would never let him help in the kitchen, but he intended to make the offer nevertheless.

  He passed Isabel’s bathroom. The door was shut, the sound of running water coming from within. He caught another whiff of her bath gel, had to force himself to keep moving. If Diego found him standing outside his sister’s bathroom sniffing the air, he’d start asking questions that Wyatt didn’t want to answer.

  Turning his thoughts back to the events of the day and away from the subject of Isabel in the shower, Wyatt walked downstairs. As soon as his boots hit the ground floor, Maria peered around the doorway to the dining room. She glanced from one empty hand to the other, narrowing her eyes.

  “Mijo, what did I say?”

  Wyatt felt his cheeks warm and wanted to disappear into the floor. He’d only been there half an hour, but Maria already had him feeling like a kid again.

  “I was hoping you’d forgotten.”

  The look she gave him was pure contempt. She muttered something in Spanish that he figured he was better off not hearing.

  “No olvido nada.” I don’t forget anything.

  Feeling sufficiently chastened, Wyatt ran a hand through his hair. “Sí, Tía Maria. I’ll go get them now.”

  “Told you you weren’t going to win this one.” Diego appeared behind him, carrying Wyatt’s clothes. “Here you go, Mami.”

  Maria’s face brightened. “Thank you. Be a good boy and put them in the washer for me. I’ve got to stir the beans.” She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Diego holding the clothes and wearing a bewildered expression.

  “How did I get stuck doing your laundry?” he grumbled.

  Wyatt laughed. “She played you. Here, give them to me. I’ll take them back upstairs.”

  “Oh no.” Diego shook his head. “If I don’t wash them, there will be hell to pay.”

  “At least let me help.”

  “Works for me.”

  It didn’t take long to start the process, and after the machine was humming, they wandered back into the living room and over to the kitchen, drawn by the delicious smells wafting through the air. Despite his earlier joking, Diego told him he’d finish up the laundry later.

  They paused at the entrance to the kitchen, both men having learned through years of experience that Maria did not appreciate unauthorized incursions into her domain.

  “It smells wonderful,” Wyatt said.

  “Anything we can do to help?” Diego asked.

  She shot them a smile before turning her attention back to the stove, where something bubbled in a saucepan. “No, thank you. I will call if I need anything. Go visit your abuelo. See if you can get him to stop working.”

  Diego nudged Wyatt’s arm, indicating he should follow. “Your grandfather still works outside?” He couldn’t believe it—Jose had to be pushing eighty years old by now. Surely he no longer labored in the heat?

  Diego shook his head. “He stays inside most days. Maria’s orders.”

  “I wouldn’t want to cross her,” Wyatt said.

  “He had a bit of a scare a few years ago,” Diego continued. “Heat exhaustion. The doctors said he was lucky. Given his age, things could have gone a lot differently. Ever since then, Maria has insisted he stay inside and leave the manual work to the rest of us.”

  “Seems fair,” Wyatt said.

  “Oh, absolutely,” replied Diego. “But try getting him to agree.”

  They arrived at the study. Diego rapped his knuckles on one side of the sliding doors, which were closed. “Pasa,” came the muted reply.

  Diego entered first, with Wyatt trailing behind. The room looked much as it had the last time Wyatt had been inside—bookshelves lined three walls, with the fourth dominated by a large picture window that let in the sun and provided a nice view of the pastures that extended from the back of the house. A large desk sat under the window and, from this angle, Wyatt could see it was covered in ledgers and notebooks, with a few loose papers strewed about for good measure.

  “Diego, why do I smell burned meat?”

  “We found three animals down today,” Diego replied.

  His grandfather swiveled around in his chair to face them. “Three?” He noticed Wyatt standing by Diego and smiled at him. “Wyatt! ¡Que bueno verte!”

  “It’s good to see you, too.” Wyatt stepped forward to shake the old man’s hand.

  “You’re staying for dinner?”

  “Yes, sir,” Wyatt replied.

  “Good, good. Maria will be happy to have someone new at the table. I’m afraid the three of us are no longer interesting.”

  Wyatt smiled. “I doubt that, sir.” Diego’s grandfather had an amazing history. His grandparents had moved north out of Mexico shortly after the Texas Revolution. They’d settled on this land and built a cattle ranch, one that the Cruz family had owned and operated ever since. Jose Cruz had inherited the ranch from his parents, and since his own son had passed away some twenty years ago, when the time came, Diego and Isabel would take over.

  Jose waved away Wyatt’s words, turning his attention back to his grandson. “What happened to them?”

  “Isabel says it was cyanide.”

  Jose frowned, his warm brown eyes narrowing. He made a thoughtful sound from low in his throat and leaned back in the chair. “We’ve always had trouble with Johnson grass. And we did have that cold snap a few weeks ago,” he said softly. It was clear he was thinking out loud, puzzling over possibilities.

  “You’re thinking the weather stressed out the Johnson grass, made it produce toxic levels of cyanide?” Wyatt asked.

  “Maybe,” Jose replied. “What does Isabel think?”

  “She agrees,” a familiar feminine voice stated.

  Wyatt turned as I
sabel stepped into the room. She walked over to kiss Jose on the cheek. “Though I’m not sure it’s Johnson grass that’s our culprit. I don’t recall seeing any in that spot.”

  “Wouldn’t take a lot to kill, if there was a build up of cyanide,” Diego pointed out. “And if the animals ate most of it, there wouldn’t be much left for you to find.”

  “I suppose.” She didn’t sound convinced. “But I should have still seen something. That stuff spreads quickly, and I find it hard to believe those three animals ate every scrap of the guilty plant.”

  “Good point,” Jose said.

  “Wyatt has offered to ride out to the site with me tomorrow.” She glanced at him and he nodded, offering silent reassurance he still intended to go with her. “He’ll help me search the area for cyanide-producing plants.”

  Jose smiled at Wyatt. “That’s very kind of you.”

  “My pleasure,” Wyatt said.

  “Hopefully we’ll have more answers tomorrow,” Isabel said. “How was your day, Abuelo?”

  Jose let out a small sigh. “It was...interesting.”

  Diego’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”

  The old man gestured to the chair and small sofa nearby. “You should sit. We need to discuss this before dinner. Maria will not like it if we talk business at the table.”

  Diego claimed the worn chair, leaving the sofa for Isabel and Wyatt. Isabel took a seat, but Wyatt hesitated. “I’ll go see if Maria needs any help.” He didn’t want to intrude on a family meeting.

  Jose held up his hand. “No, please stay. I already know what Diego and Isabel are going to say. It will be good to hear an outside opinion.”

  “All right.” Wyatt slowly lowered himself to sit next to Isabel. The furniture creaked a little under his weight, but neither Diego nor Isabel looked concerned, so he relaxed and leaned back.

  “Let me guess.” Diego’s voice practically dripped with suspicion. “The men from the energy company came back.”

  “They did,” Jose said.

  “Did you at least listen to them?” Isabel asked. She sounded exasperated.

  “I did,” Jose replied.