A Family in Wyoming

by Lynnette Kent

  “Travis,” she whispered, her hands at her throat. With a glance behind her, she stepped closer to the doorway. “What are you doing here?” She kept her voice down, so Amber wouldn’t hear.

  “Hey, babe.” He wore a crisp red shirt and new jeans, his hair was cut and he’d shaved recently. “You look beautiful, as always. How are you?”

  “You can’t be here, Travis. The order of protection says you’re to stay away.”

  He held out his hands. “Aw, come on, Susie. I can’t stay away from you. Not to mention my kids. How’s my little girl doing? And Nate?”

  “You have to leave.”

  “I’m sorry, Susie. You know I am.” He put his hands on the screen and peered inside. “Come out and talk to me. Let me see how you’re doing.”

  If she didn’t go out, he would try to come inside. She didn’t want him to go anywhere near Amber.

  She pulled open the screen door. He didn’t move away, standing almost on the threshold. Too close. “Back up,” she said. “Please.”

  Putting up his hands in a gesture of surrender, he stepped sideways. Susannah moved to stand on the other side of the door. “What do you want, Travis? Why did you come?”

  “’Cause I want my family back, that’s why. I miss you.” Driving his hands into his pockets, he hung his head. “Look, I know I’ve hurt you. I—I start drinking and I just get to feeling so bad because things haven’t turned out like they were supposed to. I’ve taken those feelings out on you, which is wrong because none of this is your fault. You’ve been the best wife there could be.”

  He glanced up, and his eyes shone with tears. “I want to start over, make things right. I want to be the best kind of husband and daddy there could be—dependable and considerate. I love you, babe. Come back to me. I’m begging you.”

  “Have you stopped drinking?”

  “I have.” When she frowned skeptically, he said, “I swear. I haven’t had a drop since the night you left. I’m serious about this, Susie. I need my family. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  She wanted to be convinced, wanted to believe that they could have a life together without harsh words and blows, without fear and anger. Maybe they could make it work. Maybe he would change this time, really change.

  Travis came close, caught her hands in his. “Please, Susie, honey. Let’s go home together. Right now. You don’t belong with these strangers. You belong to me.”

  To. One little word. And it made all the difference.

  * * *

  WYATT PUSHED THROUGH the swinging door into the dining room. “Here’s a glass—”

  Susannah wasn’t there. Amber stood on the threshold to the living room, peeking around the corner.

  He set the glass down. “What’s going on?”

  Amber looked over her shoulder. “It’s him. He’s out there. With Mommy.”

  The dread on her face was explanation enough. Wyatt put his hands on the little girl’s shoulders and steered her into the dining room. “You stay in here with Honey,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Don’t come out. I’ll take care of your mom.”

  When she nodded, he gave her a wink. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

  Standing in the living room, fists clenched, he listened without shame as Bradley promised to reform and pleaded for Susannah to come back. Would she buy this load of bull?

  “I can’t,” she said. “I won’t. I don’t belong to you or anyone else. I’m not property. I’ve spent thirteen years trying to justify a decision I made when I was seventeen. I want to get on with my life, with my children’s lives. I’m not going anywhere with you, Travis. And you have to leave. Now.” She paused. “Or else I’ll call the sheriff.”

  Wyatt smiled.

  Out on the porch, Travis Bradley swore. “I’m doing everything I can to make things right. You ought to respect that and cooperate. We’re still married, Susannah. You owe me—”

  “I don’t owe you anything.”

  “You owe me those kids. They’re mine and I’ve got a right to see them if I want to.”

  “The law says you don’t.”

  “I don’t give a damn what the law says. You’re gonna listen to me.”

  Wyatt didn’t wait to hear more. The screen door slammed behind him when he stepped outside.

  Bradley’s hands gripped Susannah’s shoulders as he held her up against him. He looked around at the noise of the screen. “What the hell—”

  Wyatt grabbed his shoulders, wrenched him away and threw him off the porch.

  “Get off my property,” he ordered. “Don’t ever come here again.”

  Bradley lay on his back on the ground, shaking his head in a daze.

  With a snort, Wyatt came after him. “Get your butt up and get out of here.” Taking hold of one arm, he dragged the guy upright and sent him stumbling toward his truck. A sharp twinge in his spine warned Wyatt he’d done too much.

  Some hero he was.

  But Bradley was even less of one. The bastard waited to retaliate until he could put the safety of the vehicle between himself and Wyatt. “You’ll see me again,” he yelled. “And I’m gonna get those kids. I swear it.”

  When Wyatt started across the yard, Bradley jumped into his truck and slammed the door. The engine sputtered and choked before it finally caught. In a whirl of dust, Bradley reversed in a circle, slammed into gear and raced down the drive.

  Turning toward the house, Wyatt found Susannah standing in the corner of the porch, arms wrapped around her waist. When he reached her, he saw she was shaking. Her face was pale, her eyes squeezed shut.

  His voice as gentle as he could make it, he said, “Bradley’s gone. Everything’s okay.”

  She didn’t move or speak, just stood motionless except for the trembling.

  “Are you alright?” He looked her up and down. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No,” she whispered. After a few seconds, she said, “It’s so cold.”

  She might be in shock. A blanket would help, but he hated to leave her alone.

  Raising his hands, he started to cup her shoulders and then hesitated. Should he touch her? Would she understand he just wanted to help? What if she panicked?

  “Susannah...” He set his palms lightly on her upper arms. “You can relax. It’s alright.”

  When she didn’t react, he curved his fingers to hold on. “Amber’s fine. You’ll be fine. We’ll take care of everything.”

  Suddenly, she gasped and, covering her face with her hands, began to sob.

  Without thinking, Wyatt put his arms around her and pulled her close. He patted her on the shoulder and stroked her hair, the way he would a distraught child. “It’s okay,” he murmured over and over.

  Then he realized she was saying something. He bent his head to listen and realized she was whispering, “I’m sorry. So sorry...”

  Since she didn’t seem to be in any shape to reason with, he just stood there, letting her cry. He’d taken off his brace this morning, which explained the ache in his spine after the brawl with Bradley. But he was glad he’d done it; he couldn’t imagine offering much comfort with that thing in the way.

  Instead, he could feel her face pressed against his breastbone, her tears wetting his shirt. Her sobs subsided, but her body still shook when she drew a breath. She’d been carrying a lot of pain around with her. Wyatt stayed still as she released it.

  Standing there, he noticed that the top of her head came just to his chin. Her shiny gold hair smelled simply clean, without any sweet, fancy scent. Under his hands, the muscles over her ribs felt firm and smooth. His mind’s eye showed him her figure, the slender curve of her hips, the roundness of her bottom, the slim length of her legs. Her flat stomach was tucked against his jeans, the swell of her breasts a sweet pressure over his ribs.

 
Desire crept in, quietly coiling, stealthily insinuating need into his blood, his bones, his belly. Wyatt fought to keep his hands still, his breathing even, as the ache grew more intense. Without success, he tried to evade the mirages his brain showed him—her soft mouth yielding to his, her skin sleek and damp under his palms. His body reacted as he’d feared it would.

  Susannah had gone quiet in his arms. He didn’t move, aware of her as he had never been aware of another person, wanting to give her all of himself, resisting with every ounce of his control.

  After an eternity, she shifted and pulled away slightly. Her gaze was fixed on her hands, which rested on his chest. Wyatt found himself holding his breath, so he wouldn’t encourage her to step away. He waited to find out what she was thinking, feeling. Had she sensed his passion? Did she share it?

  On the other end of the porch, the screen door squeaked open. “Mommy?”

  “Amber.” In an instant, Susannah had spun out of his hold and was halfway to the door. “Hey, sweetie. Everything’s okay.” She swept the little girl up in her arms and stepped inside. “Let’s go get the dining room straightened up and start cooking dinner. How does that sound? You can help me make the potato casserole...” Her voice receded as they went into the house.

  Wyatt turned toward the corner post of the porch and braced his hands against it. His heart was pounding, his breathing short, as if he’d run the hundred-yard dash.

  He cared about Susannah Bradley. Not just with neighborly concern, not friendship or compassion or casual affection. All these weeks, he’d been convinced he could see her every day and stay unmoved by her serene beauty and her gentle, yet determined, character.

  Instead, the worst possible thing had happened—he had fallen for Susannah, drawn to her in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. She was married, for God’s sake. How much more of a stop sign did it take?

  And even if she hadn’t been, he couldn’t impose his attention on a woman under his protection, especially one who was working for him. She might feel obligated to respond, afraid that if she didn’t he would kick her and Amber out, leaving them without a place to go and vulnerable to that bastard Travis Bradley.

  A woman coming out of a bad relationship needed time to recover, to stand on her own before considering whether or not she even wanted a man in her life. Wyatt couldn’t—wouldn’t—pressure Susannah into a connection she was not ready for.

  As for himself, he’d been down this road before, with Marley, and he’d sworn not to go there again. Susannah had plans for herself and her kids that did not include him or the Circle M. And his commitment to Henry MacPherson would keep him on the ranch until his dying breath.

  Whether that was what he wanted or not.

  Chapter Four

  “Don’t forget to wash your hands,” Susannah called as Amber headed for the bathroom. Then she put down the potato she’d started to shred, braced the heels of her hands on the counter and let her head hang between her shoulders.

  She couldn’t believe what had just happened. Standing on the front porch, for all the world to see, she’d burrowed into Wyatt, seeking...what? Protection? He’d given her that. Comfort? Consolation? He’d offered all she could ask. She should have been grateful for the support provided by a friend. She should have stepped away.

  But she’d found herself wanting more. His big, warm hands spread across her back made her aware of herself in a way she hadn’t been for years. She’d imagined those hands moving over her skin, and she shivered with anticipation. His heart beating against her ear set up a strange new rhythm for her pulse, urging her closer, rousing a need she hadn’t imagined she could still experience.

  She wasn’t a fool—she could tell his body had responded to hers. Men were more susceptible to physical cues than women, and she didn’t blame him. But thank God for Amber! If her little girl hadn’t interrupted, Susannah might have looked up at Wyatt with her feelings written on her face. She might have begged him for a kiss.

  And what a mistake that would have been. Kissing Wyatt would release emotions she’d been trying very hard to ignore—a concern and a caring that came perilously close to love.

  The thud of his boot heels in the dining room warned her to straighten up and get her face arranged. She had just grabbed the grater again when he came into the kitchen.

  Susannah glanced up with a smile but didn’t let her gaze connect with his. Given what had happened on the porch, it was the best she could do.

  He cleared his throat. “Where’s Amber?”

  “In the bathroom.” Hearing his stern tone, she raised her head. “Is something wrong?”

  “I wanted to talk to you. I’m glad she’s not here.”

  “There is something wrong.”

  Coming closer, he leaned a hip against the counter. “You should call the sheriff and report that Bradley turned up here. Deputy Wade Daughtrey’s a friend of ours—he’ll be glad to help out. Your husband violated the order of protection and harassed you. Daughtrey ought to be aware of that.”

  With a shake of her head, she resumed grating. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  She sighed. “If the sheriff comes after him, he’ll get even more upset, and who knows what he’ll do then? He didn’t hurt anyone today. Unless...” Now she stared at him, suddenly worried. “Are you alright? You don’t have your brace on and you grabbed him and—and... Did you hurt your back?”

  “I’m fine. Didn’t feel a twinge.”

  He avoided her eyes, so she couldn’t decide if he was telling the truth. “If he thinks he can come out here without consequences, he might try again.”

  When she only shook her head, Wyatt got exasperated. “I don’t understand why you haven’t sued for divorce and kicked this guy out of your life once and for all.”

  Her hands went still. After a moment, she looked up at him. “I did file for divorce. The day he was served the papers, he went out drinking. When he came home, he started hitting me. And Nate. That was the night you took us in. You saw what happened today when I defied him. If you hadn’t been here, hadn’t intervened...”

  She swallowed the remembered fear. “That’s why I don’t intend to challenge him again.”

  “It’s not right. How long—”

  “And don’t tell Ford. He’ll want to get involved.”

  “But—”

  Amber skipped into the kitchen, holding up her hands. “All clean, Mommy. See?”

  “Good job. We’re almost ready to mix the potatoes.” Holding Wyatt’s gaze, she shrugged. “That’s the best I can do for now.”

  Hands propped on his hips, he blew out a sigh. “Yeah. I guess so.” Then he sent Amber a wink. “See you later, alligator.”

  Her favorite rhyme. “In a while, crocodile,” she crowed and then giggled as he waved and left the room.

  Susannah blew out a sigh of her own. With half her mind on Amber and their dinner preparations, she realized she’d forgotten all about Lena’s food requirements and her plan to work out healthy menus for a teenager with diabetes. After dinner with the teenagers, there were ball games in the yard in front of the ranch house, another of Amber’s favorite things. She loved getting the chance to play with her brother, and the other kids were kind enough to include her in their activities. Susannah watched from the porch, trying not to recall the afternoon’s incident with Travis, trying to avoid Wyatt’s gaze and the memory of those few moments in his arms.

  Darkness brought bath time for Amber, followed by a story and the inevitable argument about going to bed. Susannah finally closed the door to their room about nine o’clock, exhausted with the emotional effort.

  She jumped when she realized Wyatt stood just across the hallway, hands in his pockets, leaning one shoulder against the wall.

  “That’s quite an e
ffort, getting her to sleep,” he said. “You’d think she’d be tired.”

  “The more tired she is, the harder she fights.” Susannah brushed strands of hair away from her face. She probably looked a mess. “She’s battling herself as much as me.”

  He gave a brief snort. “Who isn’t?”

  What did that mean? Susannah glanced at his face but didn’t find him smiling. Swallowing hard, she steeled herself to be practical. “Is tonight still okay for doing some work on the computer?” She would have preferred to keep more distance between them, but the needs of others came first. “Garrett says Lena will be back from the hospital soon. I’d like to be ready for her.”

  After a long moment, he straightened up. “Sure.”

  Following him down the passage, she couldn’t help letting her eyes linger on his broad shoulders, his long legs and narrow hips. Without the brace, he seemed hale and hearty, the classic image of a hardworking cowboy—strong and determined and too sexy to be close to.

  Yet here she was going into his bedroom.

  “I brought in an extra chair. Have a seat.” Sitting beside her, he propped an elbow on the desk. “So, have you ever used a computer?”

  “Lately only at the library,” she said, twisting her hands together in her lap. “The catalogs are all in the computer now.” He had switched on several lamps, but the shadows along the walls made the room seem small. Intimate.

  Wyatt didn’t appear to be affected by the atmosphere. “This isn’t much different. You just search for whatever you’re interested in. Such as diabetes diet. This is what you do.” He reached over to type on the keyboard in front of her, brushing her arm with his. “Hit return and—bang—you get all these listings with the information you want.”

  Susannah focused on the screen. “Is that millions of listings?”

  His mouth quirked into a grin. “Yep.”

  They were awfully close together, his knee just inches from her thigh. “Incredible.” Her palms were damp with nerves.

  A few clicks took her to a page with useful information she wanted to save. She started to ask for pen and paper, but then she hesitated. “Can I just print this off?”