Falling for the Rebel Cowboy

by Allison B. Collins

  Or work, he amended silently, glancing at Frankie still sitting at the table as he lined up with Luke, Kade and Hunter on the dance floor. Nash had said he wasn’t ready yet to try dancing again. In that one way, Wyatt considered him lucky—well, not really, considering he had a leg injury, but it got him out of making a spectacle of himself up here in front of everyone.

  Another song started, one they’d all practiced line dancing to. Pop swore it was the only way to break the ice with guests who were sometimes too shy or too intimidated to get up and have fun on the dance floor.

  Wyatt didn’t mind dancing, but he’d much rather it be one on one with a warm woman in his arms, alone in a sea of other couples on the floor who weren’t watching every step he made.

  He glanced at the table where his dad and Bunny sat and saw Frankie’s father with them. He stared at his daughter across the rows of tables, then jerked his head.

  Wyatt looked at Frankie, and she nodded, then stood up. His eyes followed her as she circulated among the guests—probably her coworkers and their families. Guess she’s doing the Wentworth duty now.

  The last couple she talked to sat closest to the dance floor, and when she was done, she looked up at him and his brothers, smiling a real smile this time. She watched him for a few minutes, and as ingrained as the steps were, he was afraid now would be the time he’d stumble over his feet, make an ass of himself in front of this sophisticated woman. He jerked his head, beckoning her to join them.

  Her eyes widened, and she shook her head.

  Come on, he mouthed silently.

  She shrugged, shook her head again.

  Just then Kelsey walked up next to her and grabbed her hand, pulling her along to the dance floor. They slid into place behind him and his brothers, where he assumed they watched the steps. The line dance turned them sideways, then backward, so she and Kelsey were in front of them now.

  Frankie laughed as she stumbled over the steps, trying to watch Kelsey and look back at his steps to keep up.

  Her laughter brightened her whole face, took her a little ways off the pedestal he’d imagined her on earlier.

  Eventually a few other guests got up to join them, and soon everyone was laughing.

  The music changed suddenly to a slower song, and he turned slightly, in time for Frankie to bump into him.

  He held his hand out. “Dance?” he asked her, surprising himself.

  She backed up a step and shook her head. “No, I have two left feet when it comes to any kind of dancing. Thanks, though.”

  “Aw, come on. I’ll teach you how to two-step.”

  She hesitated, staring at his outstretched hand like it was a bear claw or something. Just as he was about to give up and drop it, she took his hand and stepped forward, then put her other hand on his shoulder. He’d danced this way many times—why now did the touch of her warm hand in his make his body tighten? He’d never known hands could be one of those zones people always mentioned when talking about sex.

  “I’ll apologize now for stepping on your toes,” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

  He turned his mouth to her ear. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. My boots can handle it.”

  A tremor tumbled through her, and he wanted to continue whispering in her ear if that was what it took to make her feel something. He had a feeling she stuffed her feelings down deep, and it was a real shame.

  The third time she stepped on his toes, she winced and started pulling away. “See? I’m not any good at this. I’ll just go sit with my son and you can find a better partner.”

  He kept his grip on her hand, pulling her back to him. “How ’bout we slow it down and just move to the music?”

  She looked up at him, her blue eyes popped wide-open. Her gaze slowly dipped down his face, as if studying it, ending at his lips, and it shot sparks straight to his groin. He wanted to kiss her, right then and there, but he knew it would only give her trouble with her father and a reason for her coworkers to talk.

  He knew he should stay away from her.

  He knew he should stay away from her and her fancy suits and shoes.

  He knew he should stay away from her and her cute kid.

  But God help him, he couldn’t stay away. And it scared the hell out of him.

  Chapter Six

  Francine drew even with Wyatt’s solid black horse, Deacon, at the top of a small rise, and reined her chestnut to a stop. She glanced at him, holding her son perched in front of him on the horse, both staring straight ahead. “Why are we stopping?”

  He gestured with a nod of his head. “Sunrise.”

  The sky filled with the most glorious colors—pinks, oranges, yellows, purples—and she was in awe. The sun tipped the rims of the sharp-edged mountains gold, and they stood out against the sky—majestic and grand reminders of how beautiful the countryside was. This was definitely worth the early hour, and now she felt bad for grumbling into her coffee.

  “Amazing,” she breathed, noticing the puffs of air coming from her mouth. “This beats the exercise bike and treadmill, reading emails and headlines this time of day,” she joked.

  Wyatt stared at her. “Do you always work?”

  “No, not always,” she said, annoyance—and maybe a little guilt—putting a snap to her words.

  “Yes, you do,” Johnny said, leaning forward from his perch on Wyatt’s horse to look at her.

  She caught a grimace on Wyatt’s face just as he turned his head away.

  “Well, your grandfather isn’t going to let me run the company someday without hard work.” She tugged her hat down a little lower on her head. “But I promise to try to spend more time with you.”

  Guilt pricked her insides. She’d been thinking about the new program the company was working on until Wyatt stopped his horse. Johnny—and when had she started calling her son Johnny?—rarely called her out about working so much. This was all she knew. She’d grown up spending time at her father’s office—mostly because it was the only way she ever got to spend any time with him as he built his company from the ground up. It hit her hard that now she was doing the same thing to Johnny.

  The sun crested over the mountain and illuminated Wyatt and Johnny on the stunning horse. She’d never seen a horse so black—his coat gleamed with iridescent jewel tones in the sunlight, much like the underside of a raven’s wing.

  Johnny giggled, that infectious sound that always made her heart ping with happiness, and she looked at him pointing up at an eagle. The predator rode the air current, searching the meadow for breakfast, soaring until it finally swooped down.

  Her baby boy had already laughed more on this trip than he had the previous month at home.

  And just what did that say about her as a parent?

  “Hey, Frankie. You coming?”

  Startled, she glanced up to see Wyatt’s horse several yards away. She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t noticed they’d started up again. Clicking Molly to get her going, she noticed the easy way Wyatt sat on the horse. His body moved and flowed as Deacon walked across the meadow, almost as if they were one.

  Never had she seen a man more at home on the back of a horse. Or a more sensual one. Comfortable in his own skin, he exuded sex appeal without trying to. He was made for life out here on a ranch, at one with the land he lived and breathed.

  How could he stand the isolation? Yes, his family lived here, and they had year-round guests. But still...

  She looked around at the towering mountains, golden in the early morning. They curved and loomed as if protecting the land, protecting the Sullivans and their ranch, protecting all of the animals that made this place their home.

  By the time the sun had risen high above them, she found herself enjoying the peace and quiet of the valley. No traffic rushing, no crowds jostling her, no constant sirens and horns. She found herself relax
ing, really relaxing and letting go of work worries, for the first time in years.

  And what surprised her even more was that she was having fun helping Wyatt spot cows that had wandered off alone. A couple of times ranch hands had ridden out to meet them and gather the strays to take back to the rest of the herd later on.

  She’d worried that Johnny would get bored, but he was having the time of his life. Wyatt had been great about explaining the ins and outs of a working cattle ranch and answering all of her son’s questions.

  Throughout the morning, she’d made a point of taking pictures of the beautiful scenery, the cows and especially Johnny on the horse. Which meant Wyatt was included in some of them. But that couldn’t be helped. Right?

  One particular stunning view of the mountain covered in autumn-colored trees, with a silvery waterfall cutting a swath straight downward, had her stopping yet again to take photos. After she’d taken some from every angle, she looked up. Wyatt and Johnny were far ahead of her, almost specks on the horizon.

  Rustling in the bushes to her left made her jump, and she peered closely to see what it was. A low mooing sound had her wheeling her horse around to where the sound came from.

  She got off her horse, grabbed the rope looped around the saddle horn and walked cautiously toward the bushes. A cow’s head appeared through a break in the foliage, and she slowly approached it. “Did you get lost?”

  The cow mooed at her and tossed its head up and down.

  She looked up to see where Wyatt was, but she didn’t even see them now. Pulling out her cell phone, she noticed only one bar. She typed a quick text to Wyatt and hoped he would get it.

  Walking around the bushes, she spotted the problem. The cow had her leg tangled up in some dry branches. Francine leaned forward to move the branches, but the cow kicked backward at her, and she had to jump to the side to avoid its hoof.

  “Oh, come on. I just want to help you.”

  She walked forward again, and the cow kicked back, this time grazing her shin. She rubbed the throbbing spot with her hand. “Now cut that out. I’m not afraid of you,” she said, hoping the words would convince herself as well as the cow.

  The cow turned its head to stare at her, and while Francine had never seen an angry cow, this one was definitely pissed.

  “You know what? My dad gets that same look on his face when Dow Jones takes a plunge. Now let me help, okay?” She walked closer again, a ball of fear rotating in her gut. The cows hadn’t looked this big from the back of a horse. Sidling up next to the animal, she started to bend over, but the cow slammed into her and knocked her into the bushes.

  She was momentarily winded but managed to catch her breath. “That does it.” It was one thing to let her father run roughshod over her, but a whole different thing to let this stupid cow do it. She extricated herself from the dried branches and walked several feet away. As she brushed dead leaves off her clothes, she noticed a rip in her jeans and a hole in the sleeve of her brand-new denim jacket.

  She grabbed the rope off the ground and stomped to the cow. “Now settle down, Bessie,” she said, and slapped the cow’s rump.

  The cow swung its massive head around to give her a death glare.

  Francine took advantage of the movement and got the rope around its neck.

  Keeping as much room as she could between them, she pulled dry brush away, then worked to untangle the cow’s leg. As soon as the cow was free, it mooed, and broke through the bushes.

  Francine hurried around to try and catch it, but didn’t need to worry. The cow had stopped next to Molly, and was munching on some grass. “You okay, sweetie?” Francine asked the cow, rubbing her hand along the smooth hide behind her neck.

  The cow mooed again, then turned its head and swiped its tongue along Francine’s right cheek. It took everything in her not to flinch at the warm slobber now coating her face.

  “Oh...well, then. You’re welcome,” she said and stepped back. She waited until the cow went back to eating grass, then scrubbed her sleeve along her cheek. Can a cow’s feelings be hurt? She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to find out. Then Francine rolled her eyes at herself and pulled a pack of wipes from her pocket to scrub her face. At least she hadn’t worn much makeup today—since Bessie had just licked half of it off.

  Now she had to hurry and catch up to Wyatt and Johnny. She picked up the trailing rope and started to remount her horse but noticed a cloud of dust on the horizon. A horse and rider emerged, galloping at a fast clip toward her.

  “Frankie! Are you okay? What happened?” Wyatt shouted as soon as he came within earshot. He had one arm tucked around Johnny, holding him tight to his body.

  “I found one of your lost cows.”

  Wyatt reined in his horse, then slid off. “Why didn’t you wait for me? That cow could have killed you.” He whispered the words so Johnny wouldn’t hear, but they had the full force of angry cowboy.

  “Poor thing had her leg caught in some dead branches. I had to help her.” When he continued to scowl, she added, “I can take care of myself, you know. Been doing it for years now.”

  “You’re a city girl. This is the wilderness. A wild animal could have been stalking that cow and would have gotten a buy one, get one free dinner with both of you. There are wolves out here, Frankie, and cougars, bison, bears.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, her pride stinging. “And I don’t need a lecture.”

  She started to walk away from him, but he grabbed her and bundled her into a hug. “You don’t know what I was imagining—you out here all alone and lost.” He squeezed her tighter, wrapping his big body almost around her, and she could honestly say she didn’t mind one little bit.

  “Did you think I was helpless?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Wyatt drawled in her ear, then finally let her go and stepped back.

  “Mommy, you saved a cow?”

  She beamed at her son, who was sitting atop the horse just fine alone, she noticed. “I sure did. I couldn’t leave her here all by herself.”

  “I’m proud of you, Frankie,” Wyatt said. “Just don’t ever do that again.”

  “Guess I’m not so bad for a city slicker, am I?” she asked him.

  “You’re okay in my book.” He smiled, and his words sent a surge of warm pleasure through her chest.

  He looked at her again, then gently cupped her chin and turned her face sideways. “You’re hurt.” He dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at her cheek. “Not bleeding now, but you’ve got a scratch.” He turned her face the other way. “Why is the other half of your face all red?”

  “Oh. That. Bessie licked me when I got her out of the branches.”

  Wyatt stared at her a second, then he burst out laughing. She glared at him, but Johnny’s little-boy giggles soon followed.

  “I’m glad I can amuse you both so much,” she said mildly and climbed back up on her horse. She cut around Wyatt and Johnny, towing Bessie behind her.

  Wyatt and Johnny caught up to her before too long. “Head that way,” he said, pointing toward the lake. “Johnny and I rounded up a few more cows and left them there. I’ve got more help coming out to take them back.”

  Just as he said the words, she saw a couple of cowboys were already there, leading the wayward cattle back to the ranch. She gratefully turned the rope over to one of them and said goodbye to her bovine charge. Watching as the two cowboys and their faithful dogs herded the cattle along, she wondered what it was like at roundup time, with hundreds of cattle being collected by all the cowboys.

  Not that she’d be here to see it, but it would be cool. Loud and dusty, but exciting to see anyway.

  She wheeled Molly around and followed Wyatt and Johnny, heading toward a sparkling blue lake.

  Colorful rocks and gravel surrounded the body of water that went as far as the eye could see. Tall reeds and grasses swayed in t
he breeze at their end of the shore.

  “The water is so clear. Is it all like that?”

  Wyatt nodded. “Pretty much all over the ranch. I’ve seen rowboats out there that look like they’re hovering over the water instead of sitting on it. Swimming in it is great—you can see everything real clear.” He leaned closer to her. “Makes for some fun skinny-dipping,” he whispered.

  Her cheeks went blistering hot, and she couldn’t get the image of him swimming naked in the lake out of her head. Oh, God.

  He reined his horse to a stop under a tree and slid off. He tied the reins to a branch, then lifted Johnny down. She walked her horse under the tree as well and dismounted. Wyatt took the reins from her and tied Molly off, making sure the horses could access grass and water.

  She unbuttoned her jacket and took it off. “Day really warmed up, didn’t it?”

  “Yup,” he said, pulling things out of his saddlebags. He spread a red-and-white-checkered cloth on the ground, then set out food.

  “You brought a picnic?”

  “Mrs. Green. She runs the lodge kitchen with an iron oven mitt and a big heart. Woman can’t stand to see anyone not eating.”

  Francine spied fried chicken in one container. Normally she stayed away from fried foods, but the sight of the golden-fried deliciousness made her mouth water. He opened other containers and set plates by each of them, along with plastic utensils and napkins.

  Just as Johnny was reaching for a chicken leg, she snatched his hand. “Hold on, young man. You know the rules. You’ve had your hands all over that horse and who knows what else today.”

  Johnny sat back and held his hands out, palms up.

  She pulled the packet of sanitary wipes out of her jacket pocket and took one out, then cleaned his hands with it. Glancing up, she saw Wyatt watching her, a piece of crispy fried chicken halfway to his mouth. She dropped her chin and looked at him, one eyebrow raised, as if daring him to ignore her rule.