He rolled his eyes but set the chicken on his plate and held his hands toward her.
She held the packet of wipes out to him, but he shook his head, moved his hands closer to her. Seriously?
She pulled another wipe out of the packet, then proceeded to clean his hands.
His very large hands.
His very large, manly hands.
Hands she tried to ignore as she wiped every bit of them clean.
Hands that she wanted all over her body.
“I think they’re clean now,” Wyatt said in that deep, rough voice that shot arrows straight to her girlie bits.
Shoving the dirty wipes in the saddlebag, she fought to keep the heat from her cheeks, wished it would snow or something. Anything to cool her body after having something so innocent as cleaning hands turn into something so intimate.
She fixed a plate for Johnny, then herself, needing some time before she could risk looking at Wyatt again.
Honestly, what was wrong with her? He was so not the type of man who had ever attracted her. She liked men clean-cut, suit and tie, executive office—boring, her conscience shouted in her head.
Wyatt was the opposite—long hair, untucked shirt, dusty cowboy boots and a constant five o’clock shadow. The whole thing put together made for one hell of a sexy, mouthwatering man.
Wyatt said something to Johnny, pointing at the lake. She followed their gaze to see an enormous moose with huge antlers sprouting from its head walk out of the brush not too far from where they were picnicking. She swore it was as big as, if not bigger than, a pickup truck. Following behind him were another moose with no antlers and a younger moose.
“Mommy, look! Mooses!”
“Shh, sweetie. We don’t want to scare them.” She tried to keep the fear out of her voice, didn’t want to alarm her son. While Johnny’s gaze was still pinned to the moose family at the edge of the lake, she shifted to stretch out behind him and reach over to tug on Wyatt’s sleeve.
Wyatt turned to look at her, and her mouth went dry. Every move he made was sensual. Even when he didn’t mean to, it was part of him, what made him so attractive to her. Heck, to any woman, she was sure.
He bent over her, that long dark hair framing his face, and God help her, she wanted him to kiss her.
“What?” he whispered, his eyes dropping to her mouth.
“Um...” Great, now her brain wasn’t functioning. “Moose,” she whispered, pointing at them.
He cracked a grin. “Yes, Frankie. Moose.”
Her synapses finally kicked back in. “I mean, are we too close? Will they charge us?”
“As long as we’re quiet and don’t make sudden moves, we’ll be fine. It’s rare for them to be out this time of day. Must be hungry or thirsty.”
Even as he said the words, the big moose wandered into the water until he was shoulder-deep in the lake, then dipped his head. The water turned his coat an even richer dark brown. The young moose pressed close to the other one, then dipped its head to drink water at the shore.
“Why is that big one in the water so deep?”
“That’s the male, a bull moose. He’s scooping up plants from the bottom of the lake to eat.”
Johnny turned to look at her and Wyatt. “Look! They’re a family, just like us! A daddy, a mommy and a kid.”
* * *
A COUPLE HOURS LATER, Johnny’s words still echoed in Wyatt’s head. A family. Something he’d never really given much thought to. ’Course, he’d never found anyone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Shocked and very surprised, he had to admit the kid had wormed his way deep into Wyatt’s heart.
But Frankie. She was so far out of his league. Beautiful, smart, dedicated and a good mother, even though she worked way too many hours.
For one thing, she was some big executive in her dad’s company. Woman worked almost 24-7. In fact, they’d had to hurry back so Frankie could clean up and get to the afternoon meeting. Johnny had begged to stay with him the rest of the day, and Wyatt had been surprised she’d agreed, after making sure he was okay with it.
He and Johnny had spent the afternoon in the horse barn. He’d taught Johnny how to take care of the horses after being ridden. Then they’d mucked out stalls and repaired tack, and he had to admit it was a lot more fun doing the unending chores of a working ranch with Johnny keeping him company.
Late afternoon, they headed back to Wyatt’s place. He and Johnny stopped by Frankie’s room on the way to grab a bag of stuff to keep the kid entertained. But they didn’t end up needing it. Johnny kept up a constant chatter about everything they had seen and done on the ride that morning, and then about getting the horses settled in clean stalls. By evening, Johnny was yawning so much it looked like his head was going to split open. Good thing Frankie had given permission for her son to stay until she picked him up later.
He got Johnny settled on the couch, then saw the kid holding a book. “Will you read to me, Mr. Wyatt?”
Wyatt held very still, dread churning acid in his stomach. “I need to get some work done. Why don’t you read it?”
Johnny yawned again. “No, you read to me. Please?”
Now how could he refuse that cute face blinking sleepily up at him? He sat down on the couch, and Johnny scooted next to him. Flipping through the book, Wyatt noticed there weren’t a lot of pictures, but definitely lots of words. So not what he needed.
He flipped to the first page with pictures and thought a minute, then started making up a story.
“Hey, that’s not how it goes,” Johnny interrupted him, pointing at the first line.
“You sure?”
Johnny nodded. “Yup. It’s my favoritest book of all.”
“Haven’t you ever made up different stories to go with the pictures? We could try that, if you want.”
Johnny looked up at him, his mouth quirked in a frown just like his mom’s. Then he yawned again. “Okay.”
Wyatt had to think fast to keep the kid entertained until Johnny’s head finally drooped, and he fell asleep. Getting up from the couch, Wyatt moved quietly so as not to wake Johnny, then pulled a throw over him.
As he passed the kitchen table, he knocked an envelope onto the floor. He picked it up, but really wanted to chuck it out the door. It was the details of his GED test. He opened it slowly, hoping he’d read the name wrong the night before. He traced a finger over the line affirming who his exam proctor would be. Miss Bromfield.
Old biddy number one, the one who’d most likely told Frankie about his past in high school. Hell, she’d probably gotten a kick out of talking about his bad reputation back then, and the night he’d spent in jail.
Of all the teachers he’d ever had, and the ones who taught in town now, why couldn’t it be one of them proctoring the GED test he’d signed up for?
But no.
His luck it had to be the one teacher who hated him the most, who never gave him an inch or extra time to complete assignments. She hadn’t cared when he’d told her he had trouble reading.
Now, when it mattered, when he was ready to do something about getting his GED, she had to be the one person whose help he needed.
He’d just have to work extra hard and get it over with fast.
A beep from his back pocket sounded, and he pulled his phone out. A text from Frankie.
Mtg running over. Okay for JA to stay longer?
He sent a text back to her. No prob.
He grinned at her response. UR the best.
He looked over at Johnny, still sleeping on the couch, and decided to go over his lesson plans. He grabbed a beer and settled at the kitchen table.
* * *
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, a knock sounded at the door. He got up and opened it to a yawning Frankie, leather tote bag in hand. “Hey. You look exhausted,” he said, opening the door wider. “How’d
you get here?”
“I am,” she said, covering her mouth over another yawn. “One of your brothers dropped me off.” She stepped into the cabin, and he noticed her shirt was half untucked from her navy slacks. Even the thin blue stripes on her white shirt seemed wilted. “Where’s Johnny?”
“I put him in the guest room.”
“I’m so sorry I’m late. Did you two have dinner?”
“Yep.”
He heard a growl and realized it was coming from Frankie.
She blushed and slapped a hand to her stomach.
“I guess you didn’t have dinner?”
“I wasn’t hungry. I just wanted to get finished for the day.”
“Want a sandwich?”
“I’d love one, if it’s no bother.”
“No bother at all.”
“Thank you.” She set down her bag. “I’m going to go check on Johnny. Be right back.” And she walked in the direction he pointed for the guest rooms. He’d woken Johnny from his nap to eat, then settled the boy into the guest room.
He made a turkey sandwich for Frankie, adding chips to the plate just as she walked back into the living room.
“He’s sound asleep. Sadie is curled up right next to him.”
“How many pictures did you take?”
“None,” she said and fiddled with one of her cuffs.
He just looked at her.
“Okay, about fifteen. Maybe twenty.” She spread her hands wide. “Hey, I can’t help it,” she said and smiled.
He grinned, jerked his chin toward the couch. “Sit down and relax. Almost done here. Want something to drink? I’ve got iced tea, soda—”
“Beer?”
She kept surprising him. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped the top and took everything to her. She sat ramrod straight on the couch, hands folded in her lap.
“I told you to relax.”
“I am,” she said, looking up at him like he was dumb or something, her mouth quirked.
“Yeah, right.” He set the plate and beer on the old coffee table, pulled her high heels off, and swung her legs up onto the couch. “This is how you relax at my place. House rules.” Grabbing a couple of throw pillows, he set them behind her back, then handed her the beer. “Drink.”
She stared at him as he sat at the other end of the couch, then tilted the bottle to her lips and drank. “Oh, God, that’s good. Icy cold.” She started to set the bottle down on the table. “Coaster?”
He took the bottle from her and plunked it on the old wooden coffee table, then handed her the plate. “Eat.”
She saluted him. “Yessir.” She leaned back, balancing the plate as she bit into the sandwich. She finished chewing and swallowed. “Wow. Best. Sandwich. Ever.”
He felt, rather than saw, her feet flexing on the sofa cushion next to him. Having seen the torture devices she wore every day, it was a wonder her feet didn’t bleed or fall off. Going on instinct, he reached for one of her feet and set it on his lap.
“What are you doing?” she mumbled around a bite of sandwich, trying to yank her foot back.
He held on to it. “Helping you relax after a long day.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
He pushed his thumbs into her arch, rubbing out the aches.
She moaned. “But don’t let me stop you.”
Her moan did things, and he wanted to rub a lot more. Why was he doing this? She was a guest, her and her son. It wasn’t like she’d be staying any longer than the two weeks her father had booked for the retreat. Don’t get involved. She’s way out of your league, dumb ass.
She set the plate on the table and sank back against the pillows. He set her foot down gently, then pulled the other one onto his lap. He’d never had a thing for feet, but Frankie’s were pretty, with the hot-pink polish on her delicate toes.
He heard deep breathing and glanced up to see she’d fallen asleep.
Great. Wake her and Johnny up, drive them to the lodge, get them upstairs? Or put her in the third bedroom and she could get that much more sleep.
The dark shadows under her eyes made the decision for him. Her face was pale, making the scratch on her cheek stand out.
He’d been scared shitless when he realized that morning Frankie wasn’t with him and Johnny. Images of her being attacked by a wild animal had flashed through his mind, one after the other, until he couldn’t stand it. Then he’d seen her with that damn cow, so proud of herself, dust covered, scratched, her clothes torn and cheek bloody.
He’d wanted to take her in his arms and never let go, which scared the ever-loving hell out of him.
So instead he’d yelled at her.
He stood and went to his bedroom for a T-shirt, set it on the bed in the other room. He checked the guest bath and made sure it was stocked.
Walking back into the main room, he stood next to the couch, then gently touched Frankie’s shoulder. “Hey, you need to go to bed.”
She groaned and turned her face into the back of the couch.
He bent over and picked her up, and she snuggled into his arms, tucked her face into his neck. His body hardened instantly, and he wanted to carry her to his own bed. Dangerous territory here.
He entered the guest room and set her gently on the bed. Eyes barely open, she latched her arms around his neck before he could back away and pulled him down. She kissed him and sighed, her lips warm and soft, tempting him beyond belief. He cupped her cheeks but wouldn’t let himself touch her anywhere else when she wasn’t fully awake.
“Hey,” he whispered. “Frankie.”
Her eyes opened wide, and she scanned the bed, the room, then his face. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to be a gentleman right now.” He pulled her arms from around his neck and stepped back. “You need to sleep.”
“I’ve got to get Johnny and go back to the lodge.” She tried to stand, and he gently shoved her back down.
“You’re exhausted. He’s sound asleep, and you’re about there. Take the extra time and sleep here. You can even lock the door if you don’t trust me.” He grinned.
She looked up at him, her face so serious. “I do trust you.”
Her words shook him to the bottoms of his boots. He didn’t think anyone had ever said that to him. “I left a T-shirt for you,” he said, hating the rasp in his voice. “Bathroom is through there. Get some sleep.”
He forced himself to turn away and close the door before he gave in to need and begged her to let him stay.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, Francine woke up and stretched. The black cotton T-shirt she wore was old, washed so many times it felt soft as silk, and she snuggled it up to her nose. Wyatt’s faint scent clung to the material, and she inhaled. Maybe he won’t notice if it’s missing?
She’d slept like the dead and felt great. Glancing at the clock, she noted it was still early, not even six. The meeting today didn’t start until eight, so she had time to wake Johnny and head up to the lodge in time to get ready...and before her father or anyone else noticed she and her son hadn’t spent the night in their suite.
She snuggled under the green comforter decorated with a moose border, content to lie still for just a few minutes more. Glancing around the guest room, she noted the simple, rustic furnishings. A cozy nook had a bay window and a window seat with pillows dressed in dark greens and browns. She’d love to curl up there with a steaming cup of tea and a good book. Yeah, in what spare time?
Big wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling. It all lent itself to a very warm and comfortable room, one she liked even more than her suite at the lodge. A stone fireplace sat opposite the bed, firewood laid in—all she’d have to do was strike a match and light it. The room was the complete opposite of her modern high-rise apartment in the city.
For the first time in
a long time, she actually felt relaxed.
A painting rested on the mantel over the fireplace. A snowy scene in the woods, with a few trees casting long shadows across the white snow. She got up to study it more closely and felt the isolation depicted, sensed there was a lot of underlying meaning in it.
Was that how she felt, what she’d experienced since her separation and divorce? Maybe because she was so isolated and insulated at work.
She looked for the name of the artist, but it only had the letters KS in the lower corner. Maybe she could ask Wyatt, or up at the lodge, who the artist was. She’d love to see more of his or her work.
Wandering to the window, she peeked out the curtains and saw the crystal-clear blue lake Wyatt’s cabin bordered. “What a gorgeous setting,” she murmured. The lake was so calm today she could see the mountains and trees reflected like a mirror in it.
A huge elk stepped out of the trees not ten yards from where she watched. His dark brown coat was thick, burnished by the sunrise, and he had an impressive set of antlers on his head.
Laughing to herself, she wondered if deer and elk compared antlers the way men compared cars and other stuff.
She took advantage of the brand-new toothbrush on the sink in the guest bath and freshened up, then dressed in her clothes from the previous day.
As much as she hated to leave her cozy nest, she had to head back to the lodge and get ready for the day. Opening the solid wood door, she headed down the short hallway.
Walking into the open living space, she realized she’d been so tired the night before she’d missed the gorgeous view through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Even better than the view from her room.
Turning toward the kitchen, she noticed another gorgeous view—Wyatt stood at the stove, a hand towel slung over his shoulder, cooking something. She hadn’t paid attention to the gourmet’s dream kitchen that opened into the living room. Gleaming stainless appliances, granite countertops, rich wood cabinets and a rough stone archway framed the stove. She wasn’t much of a cook, but even she coveted this kitchen.
Johnny sat at the kitchen table coloring. He looked up at her and grinned. “Hi, Mommy.”
Falling for the Rebel Cowboy Page 7
