It was easy to agree, easy to be with people who didn’t treat him as if he was Ian Bradford, superspy, on vacation in the Idaho mountains, just waiting to be photographed with his next fan.
The Clark boys each had a lariat and were bouncing around, waiting for Zeke to give the all clear.
“Take turns practicing.” Zeke moved to a safe distance, standing with Wyatt. “I feel the need to confess that every time the boys lasso both horns, they earn the right to throw a lariat at me. But I told them since you were sticking around that they could throw at you, too.”
“You set me up.” But Wyatt laughed when he said it, reminded of growing up and all the games he and his sisters had invented. Ranch kids were a different breed.
“Well...” Zeke looked him up and down. “You haven’t run away, so you can be up first.”
Davey waited his turn, letting his younger brothers have a go. He held the loops of his lariat on his right forearm and fingered the rope with his left hand.
“Nothing stops that kid,” Zeke said quietly. “You know, Shane runs a camp for kids with challenges.”
“He sounds like a saint,” Wyatt grumbled.
“Far from it.” Zeke paused to give the boys some pointers. “Shane Monroe might just be the most annoying man I’ve ever met.”
The boys weren’t great at roping. Wyatt was beginning to think he wasn’t going to have to stand in for that roping steer.
“Where are your own boys today?” he asked Zeke.
“Safely out of trouble, with their mother.” Zeke called out more instructions. And then he glanced at Wyatt. “Nervous about fatherhood?”
Wyatt gave the cowhand a hard stare.
Zeke laughed. “I’m married to a Monroe. It’s not as if I don’t know what’s going on. You just look a bit shell-shocked, is all.”
Wyatt forced himself to breathe evenly and allowed, “You’re good with kids.”
“It’s a learned art. You’re releasing too late, Davey.” Zeke crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t have the best home life. But these Clark boys, and my little cowpokes, they teach me something about parenting every day. All right, guys, let’s get serious. First up, Adam.”
Little Adam coiled his stiff rope, thrust his tongue out and began his windup. “If I make this, I’m gonna get a shot at roping Mr. Wyatt.”
Not without a miracle. The kid hadn’t lassoed the practice steer once.
And then a miracle happened.
* * *
“WHAT DO YOU mean you want me to cool my jets on the sci-fi thriller deal?”
Wyatt didn’t have to see his agent to read his frustration. Brandon shouted loud enough into the phone to be heard in the next room over.
“I just need a couple of days, Brandon. I have a feeling about the Mike Moody project Ashley Monroe is helming.” Yesterday, he’d had a feeling about Ashley Monroe, one of a more personal nature. But she was telling him in no uncertain terms where her priorities lay. Despite a quiet voice in his head repeating there was something else between them than the role of a fake wedding date. All he needed was time. Time to unravel which role was most important to his career and discover if his and Ashley’s relationship was worth investing time in.
He’d need time for the rope burn on his bicep to heal. Dang if that little Adam hadn’t roped him after snagging that practice steer. And then each of his brothers had done the same thing, until Wyatt had to admit that he’d been duped. They were all competent little cowboys.
“No. No. No.” Brandon thumped what sounded like his desk. “This can’t be happening. Do you know how much time I’ve spent working the deal of the century? What is going on with you? Am I supposed to call and tell Jess we’re no longer interested?”
“No. Jeez, Brandon. Listen to me.” Wyatt paced his hotel room, trying to keep the leg muscle where Missy had bit him a second time from cramping. “Let everything ride until after this weekend.”
“Oh, the weekend. The weekend! The weekend where you’re going to be at the same wedding as Jess Watanabe?” More desk pounding. “If my cell phone wasn’t new, I’d throw it out the window.”
“Trust me. When have I ever steered you wrong?”
“When you told me that you wanted to play a villain. When you told me that you needed to go to Idaho to chase down the person who posted that Monroe baby rumor. When you told me to push for a record-breaking payday on a Jess Watanabe movie, which you should be down on your knees begging for since he is an award-winning god.”
Wow. Brandon hadn’t even hesitated with that list. Wyatt didn’t know what to say.
“I’m supposed to be navigating your career because I’m the one with a cool head. While you... You’re playing with fire, Wyatt. And in the end, we’re both going to get burned.”
* * *
THE WELCOME PARTY for the out-of-town family wedding guests was held outside the church Thursday night. There were tables and chairs set up. Food and drink everywhere. Guests chattering and laughing.
Laurel had been given a big cushy chair in a circle of seats beneath a white canopy. She seemed happy.
Ashley wasn’t happy and Mom knew it.
“You look like you’re waiting to hear a rejection for a much-coveted role.” Mom smoothed her fingers over Ashley’s forehead. “You should be smiling. Wyatt has a copy of the paternity papers.”
“And an interest in my film.” Talk about good news, bad news. She could no longer see him in the role of Mike Moody. He had the heart of blacksmith Jeb Clark. But since Wyatt had rocketed to fame, he’d only found success in playing action-packed lead roles. He’d never consider the quieter role of Jeb, the heart of the film.
“Speak of the devil,” Mom said as Wyatt approached.
Gone were the jeans, cowboy boots and hat. In their place were fine wool slacks, leather loafers and a pressed charcoal button-down. He walked with a confidence Ashley envied. Powerful strides. Head high. And everyone who looked his way knew the world was his oyster.
“It’s back to thinking I’m the devil, is it, Genevieve?” Wyatt stepped next to Ashley and put his arm around her as if they were, in fact, dating.
“My family doesn’t need to be fooled.” Ashley tried to step away, but he twirled her around and dipped her. Strong arms held her body. Mischievous eyes held her gaze. “Oh.” She wanted a kiss.
He knew it, too. His smile broadened.
Several family members cooed.
“You’re so adorable together,” Cousin Kendall said.
Gabby snapped a picture.
And there went the desire to kiss him.
“You think I’m the devil, too.” The mischief went out of his eyes. He set her back on her feet.
She gave a little headshake, putting as much space as she could between them.
“Bernadette. Hi.” From a few feet away, Holden’s voice seemed strained, almost teenage squawky.
Ashley turned to look. Cousin Holden was talking to Dr. Carlisle. Was he blushing?
While his cheeks were pinkening, Laurel’s were turning a deep red. “Holden,” she warned.
“It’s been a long time, Holden.” Dr. Carlisle’s voice shook, and she adjusted her thick glasses with trembling hands. “And you haven’t returned any of my...anything.”
“Holden!” Laurel shouted again. “What did I tell you?”
Neither Holden nor Dr. Carlisle acknowledged Laurel’s question. But Ashley knew the answer. Laurel had told Holden not to break Dr. Carlisle’s heart.
Looked like that bit of instruction came too late.
“This is none of our business.” Wyatt began to tug Ashley toward the drinks table.
“That’s what makes it so awesome.” Ashley tugged back, unwilling to miss a thing.
Holden had a reputation as a ladies’ man, and Dr. Carlisle, though pretty, didn’t look like
his usual high-maintenance, short-term girlfriend. But really... Ashley chuckled. She wasn’t normally a witness to the fallout from Holden’s relationships. If Dr. Carlisle wasn’t so visibly shaken, Ashley might find a chair and toss out a word or two of support for her. The poor doctor just looked about to fall apart.
Wyatt stopped pulling but held on to Ashley’s hand.
“I’d like you to meet my son, Devin,” Holden was saying to Dr. Carlisle. “He just graduated from high school and he’s headed to MIT in the fall.”
“A son...” The good doctor paled. “I hadn’t realized you had a son. Or a...wife?”
“No wife.” Holden seemed perplexed. “My son and I are going on a camping trip together after the wedding. Our last guys-only vacation before he goes off to college and forgets his old man.” Holden was babbling. He was never at a loss for words, but he never babbled. And yet here he was. Babbling.
Ashley grinned.
Best. Monroe. Moment. Ever.
Ashley glanced around, trying to locate Shane. He’d enjoy this. The cousins were frenemies. But he had yet to arrive.
Devin rolled his eyes. “Dad.”
And there was the rain on Ashley’s parade, because Devin didn’t need to witness this scene.
Despite her severe case of nerves, Dr. Carlisle was making Holden squirm. “A son? You didn’t think that was something you should tell me?”
Holden tugged at the collar of his polo, wrinkling the navy fabric. Honestly, he didn’t look like the cock of Wall Street. More like a high school science teacher who’d accidentally set fire to the lab. “We’re going to tour Yellowstone and the surrounding areas via motor home. And I... Well, I...I had something come up that precluded me from calling you or...”
“Oh.” Dr. Carlisle held up a hand as blood seemed to drain from her face. “Excuse me...” She rushed around the side of the church. And then there was the horrid sound of retching.
Before Ashley could disengage herself from Wyatt’s hold, Ivy ran past.
Wyatt whispered, “One witness is probably enough.”
Meanwhile, Cam grabbed Holden’s arm, towing him toward Dr. Carlisle. “Come on. Time to face the music.”
“Why?” Holden looked shell-shocked.
“Because you got her pregnant, you idiot,” Cam said bluntly and with little sympathy.
Everyone froze.
“Dad?” Devin’s voice was a mixture of incredulity and horror.
Gabby gasped, no doubt thinking this was another one of her precious secrets revealed.
Holden stared from Devin to the direction of the retching and then toward Laurel, who sat glaring at him, very much the unhappy expectant empress.
Wyatt started to chuckle, and then it turned into full-blown laughter, the kind of false frivolity that resulted from too much pressure held in too long. His laughter cascaded across the slope and over the gathering of Monroes.
That was too much for Holden. He launched himself at Wyatt, taking them both to the ground.
* * *
“THIS IS GOING to be one heck of a shiner.” Ashley gently placed a bag of ice over Wyatt’s rapidly swelling right eye.
“You should see the other guy.” The cold immediately dulled the throbbing. It had felt pretty darn good to tussle with someone. He lay on his bed with Ashley sitting near. That felt good, too.
Ashley sighed, studying his face. “Why are men so proud of their stupid fights?”
“Fight? Holden tackled me and we rolled down the hill.” Until they’d collided with a tree. His fingers found hers, and for the first time in a day, she didn’t step out of reach or try to pull away. “I don’t think either of us landed a punch.” In fact, it was anyone’s guess how Wyatt ended up with a shiner. He could have collided with a tree, the earth or Holden’s hard head.
Ashley’s blue gaze was as tender as her touch. “I see a remake of Fight Club in your future.”
He liked it when Ashley made fun of him. It made him forget about dates he hadn’t had and babies he hadn’t expected. “In my defense, I didn’t start anything.”
“You did. You laughed.” She laughed, the melody filling the room and his heart with joy. “Of all the Monroes, you choose to laugh at the man with the biggest ego.”
“I thought that was Shane.” He would have raised his eyebrows dubiously if not for the pack of ice on his face.
“Shane used to be first. But then he fell in love with Franny Clark.” Ashley stared down at Wyatt with what felt like love in her eyes.
The frequent use of the L word should have made Wyatt extremely nervous, but for whatever reason, he wasn’t edgy. He was happy.
News flash: Sexiest Man Alive falls for America’s Sweetheart. Gets black eye and doesn’t care.
“This is nice,” he told her, meaning it.
A shadow ruined the shine in her eyes. “Nice?”
“Yes?” Did he have to put that in the form of a question?
Ashley extricated her hand. “You made a spectacle of yourself at Laurel’s welcome dinner. The resulting feeling shouldn’t be nice.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you think this is my fault?”
“Because it is! You laughed.” She brushed his hair away from the ice bag, her tender actions at odds with her rebuke. “Holden had just learned he was going to be a father. And you laughed.”
“You don’t see the irony in this? It’s as if I was watching what happened to me in real time. You don’t think there’s some humor seeing another man blindsided by fatherhood? Not even a little bit?” He removed the ice bag so he could see her more clearly, only his right eye wouldn’t focus.
“Maybe there’s a little bit of humor in there,” she allowed, easing the bag back over his face. “But maybe it’s something you laugh about years later. Not in the moment.”
“Can I come in?” Dr. Carlisle knocked on the door, which hadn’t been closed all the way. She stared at Wyatt’s face and then went into his bathroom to wash her hands. “Busy night for ice packs.”
Ashley got up to make room for the doc, and it felt as if by doing so she took all the warmth with her.
“Bad joke.” The doctor leaned over to examine his eye. “I’m sorry.”
“No apology necessary,” Wyatt said. And he meant it.
“No. I caused all this. I should have handled things better with Holden.” Dr. Carlisle glanced up at Ashley. “He just made me so upset.”
“Holden seems to have that effect on people.” Ashley smiled gently at Wyatt. “He’s stubborn and proud, like someone else I know.”
“I want you to ice this off and on for twenty-four hours.” Dr. Carlisle stood. “I’ll check on you in the morning.” She glanced at Ashley. “I’ll need someone to come get me if he acts odd or shows any signs of concussion—dizziness, drowsiness, vomiting...” Her hand drifted to her abdomen.
“Can do,” Wyatt reassured her, thinking how nice it would be to have Ashley watching over him.
The doctor brushed Wyatt’s arm with her hand. “Best not to exercise tomorrow. I’ve seen you out running every day.”
Wyatt removed the bag of ice from his eye. “But—”
“Take a day off. Doctor’s orders.”
Ashley walked the doctor to the door.
It struck Wyatt that in a few days, he’d be gone from here—gone from the small-town hero worship, gone from the community bustle created by and revolving around the Monroes, gone from Ashley’s highly structured, goal-oriented life.
“My mother would have liked you,” he said as Ashley closed the door. He put the ice pack on his eye, staring at the ceiling. Why had he said that? It wasn’t what he’d been thinking. He tried hard not to think of his mother, not to relive painful memories.
The mattress shifted and creaked as Ashley sat on the bed.
“You never talk about h
er in the media,” she said in a soft voice. And then she continued in a softer one, “It’s one of your interview terms, isn’t it?” Then instead of asking “What was your mother like?” she fell silent, as if respecting his privacy.
Wyatt felt the need to forget about boundaries and say something, because he felt Ashley needed to hear something personal. He just couldn’t find the right words about his mother.
“If this was your beloved action-adventure genre, Wyatt, this would be one of those quiet moments when the hero and his heroine weren’t tracking down villains or running from the overwhelming enemy forces.”
He should change the tone and protest her retreat into the film genre. He should make a joke and draw her into his arms. “You mean a quiet moment for a love scene?” he said gruffly instead, because it was the right answer, the answer that normally fit his real life when alone with a beautiful woman, but this moment felt nothing like that.
“No.” Ashley tsked. “This would be a moment of rest from all the action, one destined to be filled with intimate conversation.” She could have stopped there. She didn’t. “That’s what people who are growing close do in the movies. They have intimate conversations and reveal a deep, dark secret they’ve been carrying around for years.”
Wyatt didn’t want to be part of her unguarded scene. Not in real life and not in any movie. And suddenly, Wyatt knew why he stuck to the action genre. The character growth was minimal. The unveiling of deep, dark secrets rare. At least in the roles he’d been playing. And for sure in his most hated role—that of a cardboard, clichéd villain. His casting against type might have succeeded if he’d insisted on more character development in the script. His character might have been one of those villains people loved to hate because it was written and played so well.
But then he’d never have gone on a date with Laurel. Or met Ashley in Second Chance.
“Why do you have to pull up these movie examples?” They were killing him inside. He dared look at her. At that warm and colorful woman that was Ashley Monroe, film expert.
The Littlest Cowgirls--A Clean Romance Page 17
