“I’m coming. But you’re going to have to give me time to fix garlic bread and a salad while the spaghetti heats through.”
Scotty skipped ahead with his pet. Tandy lagged behind. She’d assumed all the patrols she’d led over rough terrain in Afghanistan would have prepared her to chase after and feed a few hundred cows. Obviously not. She was exhausted.
“Honey, why don’t you build something with your Legos while supper warms? I’ll bring Manny his plate first. I hope he’s not feeling worse, now that the fog has settled again.”
Scotty stopped at the front door and glanced around. “It’s almost dark and the wolf man hasn’t come. Do you think that bad guy from last night shot him?”
“Scotty!” Tandy gasped his name as she reached around him and turned on the interior lights. “Area ranchers may not want him here, but no one would go that far.”
“They might,” he said, trudging down the hall. “Didn’t you see? The bad man had a gun.”
She hadn’t noticed. She worried that Scotty had heard too much violent war-talk, living with an uncle in the navy, as well as his dad and herself.
She headed to the kitchen and in about forty minutes the meal was ready. But she hadn’t taken time to clean up. She still felt grungy from a full day of herding strays out of canyons. Oh, well, she’d shower before bed.
“Scotty, come eat. The garlic bread is due out in a minute.”
She heard him leave his room just as the doorbell rang.
“I’ll answer the door, Mama.”
“Okay. It’s probably Manny. Tell him I’ll fix that plate, or better, he should come eat with us.” She tore off a piece of foil to cover the dish if he didn’t elect to stay. He’d said often the hired help shouldn’t eat with the boss. Silly as it sounded to her, apparently he’d been that way until her father got sick and needed assistance preparing his meals.
The oven timer dinged. She slipped on oven mitts to remove the casserole dish and the hot bread.
From the other room a male voice she didn’t recognize said, “Hi there, young man. I’m here to pick up a key to one of the casitas from Ms. Graham. Is that your mother?”
“Are you the wolf man?” Scotty exclaimed, his tone filled with awe. “Mama’s in the kitchen putting pa’sketti on the table. It’s super yummy. Come on in and eat with us.”
Tandy almost dropped the bread. In the middle of finding a place to set the hot item she heard the man laugh. It was a deep rumble that reminded her of how disheveled she looked. Her free hand flew to smooth down her hair. Not wanting her first meeting with her renter to put her at a disadvantage for wearing grubby jeans and a sauce-spattered work shirt, she called to Scotty. “His house key is on the end table beside the lamp.”
Before she could add that the casita was stocked and ready, she heard their new tenant saying how the food certainly smelled good.
Considering the lateness of the hour, the poor man had probably been traveling through the fog instead of stopping to eat. Having a change of heart for someone who’d been a friend to her dad, she stepped to the arch and almost fell over Mr. Bones. “Scotty, show him where to wash up. I’ll set another plate.”
Tandy rushed back and set out another place setting. She was tearing off extra paper towel for napkins when her son, jabbering a mile a minute, dragged their guest into the kitchen. Glancing up, a welcoming smile froze on her lips, and the paper towel fluttered from her hand. She and the newcomer both grabbed for it, causing their hands to connect. The strength in his fingers sent shock waves rippling up Tandy’s arm. She quickly withdrew, leaving him to catch the towel before it hit the floor.
Wyatt Hunt was nothing like she’d presumed. For one thing, he was a lot younger. And gosh, he was tall. Over six feet, she judged. Wide shouldered and narrow hipped, he wore cowboy garb as if it’d been tailor-made to fit his muscular frame. His dark blond hair showed a stubborn curl. When he smiled down at Scotty, a dimple flashed in his left cheek.
His good looks sent Tandy’s heart thudding like a jungle drum. She felt even more rattled when considering again how crappy she must look.
But the unexpected weakness that attacked her knees annoyed her. Good grief, she’d worked with, and had outranked, more handsome men than him. What was wrong with her? “Sorry to stare, but I’d assumed from conversations with Dad that you were his age,” she blurted even as her son urged the man to sit in the chair beside him. “He never actually mentioned your age during our phone calls, but it was an impression he gave in how he talked about views you two shared.”
“Curt and I hit it off, but he was what...sixtyish? Twice my age. Is this where you’d like me to sit?” he asked Tandy, pointing to the chair Scotty kept urging him toward. “Are you sure I’m not putting you out?”
“Oh, no. I feel as if I know you. You were so good to Dad. Scotty, let him fill his plate first. I’m going to take this one over to Manny. His arthritis is acting up,” she told Wyatt, who also knew the other man.
“Ask him if there’s anything I can do to help,” Wyatt said after sitting down. “Carry in wood for his fireplace or something. Or if you’d like, I’ll take him the plate.” He started to rise again.
“That’s not necessary.” Tandy deftly covered the plate with foil. “I’ll ask about the wood. You two tear off bread slices while it’s hot.”
She dashed out and was gone only a few minutes. Returning, pretty much out of breath, she scooted around the narrow table and took a seat directly across from their guest. When her knees bumped Wyatt’s, he didn’t seem to notice.
“How is Manny doing? I’m sorry his joints aren’t any better than they were during the roundup I helped him with last year.”
“He appreciated the food and your offer. He swears he’s better, though, and will ride with us tomorrow,” Tandy said, putting a scoop of spaghetti on Scotty’s plate.
“All of this looks so good.” Wyatt eyed the offerings as if it was a feast.
“Uh, help yourself.” Tandy scooted the casserole dish toward him. She took a deep and deliberate breath before serving up salad for her son. And she followed that with a squirt of dressing for the boy, who continued to gaze rapturously at their unplanned guest as if he’d never shared a supper table with a grown man before. It probably had been a while, Tandy thought.
“I’m not the greatest cook,” she mumbled, then didn’t know why she had felt a need to say anything.
Wyatt glanced up from his full plate and smiled at her. “You could’ve fooled me. I’ve only had a taste, but spaghetti is a favorite of mine, and garlic bread hits the spot.”
Scotty beamed. “Mama fixed it ’cause it’s my favorite next to pizza, which she can’t make,” he added.
Tandy filled her plate. “Knowing Dad, he probably told you I went into the army after college. There we always had cooks or ate MREs. I hoped I’d have more time to spend with cookbooks after moving back here. Turns out I have a lot to learn about raising cattle. Maybe things won’t be so hectic after we acquire a full herd.”
“It’s a shame we had to sell all of Curt’s cattle after he passed so suddenly. I grew up in cattle country, so I know herds build slowly.”
“I’ve bought a decent amount of heifers. Manny’s looking for a bull to round out my stock. So far, no luck.” She frowned and rolled noodles around her fork. “After the stockmen’s meeting last night, it’s a toss-up whether anyone will sell me anything. Are you aware local ranchers are unhappy with me for renting you a casita?”
“I’m sorry. I might’ve guessed, considering how many reacted poorly when we began this project.” The man shred his bread. “I’ll make other arrangements and move elsewhere. No sense in you taking flak.”
“You can’t go away.” Scotty stopped eating. “There was a bad man at the meeting who yelled at my mom. He’s scary. I’m glad you aren’t old
like Manny ’cause you can punch him if he acts mean again.”
“Scotty.” Tandy shook her head. “No one’s going to punch Mr. Hicks. Fighting isn’t how we solve our differences.”
“But Auntie Lucinda said...” Whatever he’d been about to say withered under his mother’s stern glare.
Wyatt gazed briefly at the upset boy before returning his attention to Tandy. “Often it only takes one disgruntled person to stir up mob mentality. Area ranchers have all been informed that our agency will pay double for any cattle they can prove our wolf pack brought down. I don’t like hearing they’re still so upset. To date we haven’t had a single confirmed incident.”
“Dad favored repatriation of the Mexican gray wolves to this area. I recall him telling me the elk population had exploded and they were ruining the range grass where he grazed cattle.”
“True. He might’ve been the only local rancher who understood the Game and Fish program. By the time my team mapped this area and chose the best spot to release two wolf pair, Curt was too ill to attend any of our meetings. I hope no one harassed him. If they did, he never told me.”
Tandy shook her head. “I don’t think they did. Last night, Preston Hicks said as much. My parents were well liked. Dad kept ranching a long time after my mom died. Apparently I’m a different story. But I don’t push around easily. Besides, you and I have an agreement. I’m fully prepared to honor it.”
Wyatt nodded and ate a few bites.
“Me and Mama want you to stay. I’ve only seen wolves on the TV,” Scotty said. “Wolves look like dogs. Why don’t people like them? I wish I knew more about ’em.”
“How old are you?” Wyatt asked, pausing to study the boy.
Scotty puffed out his chest. “I’m gonna be six pretty soon. In March. But I already know the alphabet and I can count to a thousand.”
“Good for you. I thought you were older,” Hunt said and grinned. “The state Game and Fish Department has informational pamphlets we give to schools on the different varieties of wolves. There’s more reading than photographs, though.” He considered for a moment. “I know there’s a library in town. I’d be happy to see if they have any books on wolves for younger kids during my next supply run. That is, if your mom has no objection.” He shifted his gaze to Tandy.
“You don’t care, do you, Mama? A book on wolves would be so cool. It’d be even cooler to see a real live wolf. Then I could phone Mark, and he’d want to come visit me.”
Tandy choked on a cherry tomato she’d bit into. “Scotty. Hawaii is a long way from Arizona. Airplane flights are costly.” She didn’t want to tell him that his aunt might not welcome having Scotty invite Mark to Arizona. Which was a shame since the divorce was all at the feet of Lucinda’s brother.
Seeing her son’s face cloud, Tandy quickly said, “Let’s see if Mr. Hunt can find a suitable book, Scotty. Then we’ll talk about you getting in touch with Mark.”
“Please, if you don’t mind, both of you call me Wyatt. Mr. Hunt is too formal.”
Tandy nodded at Scotty to show it was okay with her, then added, “We call Manny by his first name.”
“Okay, Wyatt,” Scotty said with a grin. Wyatt winked at her son.
“Finish before your spaghetti gets cold. And stop feeding Mr. Bones the mushrooms you’re picking out.”
Scotty’s eyes snapped open. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t like ’shrooms.”
Tandy smothered a smile. “Neither does Mr. Bones. He’s spit them all out on the floor. So just push them to one side of your plate. And be careful where you step when you leave the table.”
She noticed Wyatt’s blue eyes sparkled with humor, giving Tandy another twist in her stomach, a reaction similar to when she’d heard him laugh. That had been extraweird since the last thing she was in the market for was a romantic relationship. If falling so hard and fast for Dan had taught her anything, it was how unreliable her heart was. Plus, she didn’t want to get involved with another man who traveled for work.
For the remainder of the meal, between bites, Scotty shot questions about wolves at Wyatt. He asked why so many people didn’t like them. He asked what they ate. And if it hurt wolf pups to get vaccinations. “I don’t like needles,” he said.
What amazed Tandy was how Wyatt didn’t brush her son off. Instead he patiently answered every question in language appropriate for his age. That wasn’t anything Scotty’s own father or his uncle would’ve done. She’d seen them ignore or send away Scotty and his three cousins.
By the end of the meal Scotty had begun to yawn. “It’s time we let Wyatt go check out his casita, and you, young man, need to get ready for bed while I clean off the table.” She stood and began stacking plates.
“The meal was great,” Wyatt said, folding his paper towel napkin. “Let me help with dishes.”
His offer was nothing Tandy expected or was used to. Even out in the field, a lot of guys in uniform assumed the females in their squadron would naturally take on all domestic chores. “If you want to carry your plate to the sink, I’ll fetch your key. I did make the bed up over there and set towels in the bathroom. Manny handles his own laundry. Am I correct to assume you’ll do the same?”
“I will. I brought bedding. But thanks for readying the place. I had a morning meeting in Albuquerque so I drove straight through, not wanting to roust you from your bed to get the key. I tried calling the house. You must’ve been out with the cattle. That reminds me, can we exchange cell numbers before I leave?”
“Sure.”
“Me’n Mr. Bones are going to bed. G’night, Mom. G’night, Wyatt. I hope you find me a wolf book.” The boy threw his arms around the legs of the man he’d only recently met and gave him a good-night hug before he hugged his mother.
She watched boy and dog lope noisily down the tiled hallway and waited until she was sure Scotty had gone into his room before they traded numbers. She handed Wyatt the casita key, murmuring, “Thank you for not dismissing Scotty’s questions out of hand. But I don’t want him becoming a bother. I’ve noticed since we moved here how curious he is about everything. Even I tune him out at times, and I’m sure my ex-husband did, too.” She shepherded the tall man to the front door.
“Ex-husband?” he said unexpectedly. “Uh, sorry if that sounded rude. Curt didn’t know you were contemplating divorce, did he? I...ah...probably shouldn’t say anything.” Wyatt seemed embarrassed. “He lamented never hearing from his son-in-law. Not even when he was most sick. Manny said it probably wasn’t easy to get calls out from a war zone, but you managed a couple of calls a week. I remember thinking it especially odd since Curt said your husband was stationed in the Philippines.”
Tandy opened the door and clung to it while Wyatt shrugged into his jacket.
“Look, tell me to stop being nosy. But, I thought the world of your father. He treated me like a son. Stuff that worried him worried me. I’m sure you had good reason for not telling him if your marriage was in trouble.” Wyatt crossed the porch. “Thanks again for the terrific meal. Uh, would you rather I conveniently not find a kid’s book on wolves?” He hesitated at the steps and leveled an uneasy gaze on Tandy.
“A kid wolf book would be great. But, just to clarify, my marriage ended abruptly after Dad died. I truly appreciate all you did for him. I hope you don’t think I’m horrible for not coming home for his funeral. I tried to get leave, but the fighting in Afghanistan had heated up and nonessential flights from our base were grounded without exception. I so regret that.” She smudged away an errant tear. “You’d left by the time I finally managed to make it home.”
Wyatt shook his head. “I didn’t think you were horrible. Fortunately your dad had prearranged his funeral. The funeral home in town carried out his wishes for a private service. Manny and I attended. We both understood why you couldn’t be here.”
“Thanks. Man
ny said as much, but it helps to hear you agree. About the book for Scotty, please don’t go out of your way to find one. I know you must be on a schedule.”
“In case you couldn’t tell, I love educating anyone who’ll listen about ensuring wolf habitats remain as nature intended. I’ll keep the book age appropriate. I hope I can find one with photos.” Giving a final wave, Wyatt descended the steps.
Tandy heard him whistling as he crossed the sandy yard to the casita next to Manny’s. It wasn’t until she saw lights spill from his door and windows that she realized she still stood in the cold after she could no longer see and admire the man’s lithe stride.
Copyright © 2017 by Rosaline Fox
ISBN-13: 9781488013348
Stealing the Cowboy’s Heart
Copyright © 2017 by Debbi Quattrone
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
Stealing the Cowboy's Heart Page 21
