Arrested by Love: A Long Valley Romance Novel - Book 3

by Erin Wright

  Yeah, it was damn nice to be home again.

  Just as he got to the front porch of the double-wide, the snow crunching under foot as he went, Jorge opened up the front door and stepped outside. His weathered face lit up when he caught sight of Wyatt. “¡Hola, señor!” he said. “You casa!”

  They tended to talk a mixture of Spanglish to each other, punctuated when necessary with hand gestures. It was a cross between charades and high school Spanish. It kept Wyatt from forgetting too much from his high school days, anyway.

  “Hola,” he said warmly, shaking Jorge’s hand. “¿Cómo estás?”

  “Bien, bien. Come. My chickens! Huevos, for you.” He gestured and they walked into the cramped double-wide together. Jorge chattered quickly to his wife, Maria, in Spanish, as grandkids came crowding into the living room. Wyatt greeted them and chatted with them for a minute; unlike their grandparents, the kids were completely fluent in both Spanish and English, which meant that at times, they acted as translators between Wyatt and Jorge.

  Wyatt knew that some of the ranchers in the valley wouldn’t put up with the language barrier and would’ve fired Jorge long ago, but he was a damn hard worker, and he also had a large family to support. Wyatt couldn’t imagine chucking him out into the snow, no matter how many games of charades he had to play.

  Jorge pulled a dozen eggs out of the fridge. “For you, for you,” he said, shoving the carton into Wyatt’s hands. “Bienvenido a casa. Happy to see you.”

  Shooting Jorge a grin, he flipped the carton lid open to admire the double row of brown and white eggs. “Gracias,” he said. “Muchas gracias.” He knew how precious eggs were during the winter; mid-January was probably the slowest time of the year for egg laying, and he knew Jorge’s family could use the eggs.

  But he also knew that Jorge took pride in giving them to him, and if there was one thing that Wyatt Miller understood, it was pride.

  After some high fives with the grandkids, he made his way back outside into the bitter cold. He hurried to drop off the carton back at his house and then took to walking the fields, checking fences and reacquainting himself with his farm. Afterwards, he’d make a trip over to his barn to curry and feed his horses.

  Yeah, it felt damn good to be back home.

  Chapter 22

  Abby

  Abby walked down the jail cell block to get to the supply room in the back. She needed to put replacement batteries in all of the smoke detectors every other month, per county law, and so they kept a huge tub of them in the back supply closet.

  As she passed Wyatt’s cell, her heart hurt a little. It was stupid. She was so happy for him; so glad that he’d gotten out and was a free man, relatively speaking. Sure, he had to put in his community service hours, which thankfully Vet Whitaker had agreed to be the sponsor for, but that and some counseling were light years ahead of being locked up behind bars.

  So she was happy for Wyatt, she really was. It was a good thing, having him out and free again and moving on with his life.

  She began pulling batteries out of the tub, counting mechanically as her brain spun through what was really bothering her: She missed him.

  She should be glad for him that he was finally free again. That Maggie Mae was able to run in the fields again. And she was, she really was.

  But a selfish part of her wanted him back in jail. His cell was so empty every time she walked past it. And it would always be “Wyatt’s cell” to her. He’d become such a part of her day; teasing her or simply reading quietly as she walked past, but he’d been there, always there.

  No, that wasn’t right. She didn’t want him back in jail again. She wanted him out and free. She wanted him happy. She just…wanted to be with him too.

  She scooped the batteries up and carried them back up to the front of the jail. It was time to pull out the ladder and begin replacing batteries. Oh, the glamorous life of a small-town cop. When she went to the Cleveland Elementary School on Career Day and talked about being a cop, she always somehow managed to leave out any mention of changing batteries in smoke detectors.

  Finally, Morland came in and relieved her so she could head home. With a happy sigh, she headed to her house and began…

  Slowly driving herself insane. She tried watching TV but quickly flicked it off. Nothing on there appealed to her. She pulled out her favorite author’s new book, The Girl with the Make-Believe Husband, but then all she could think about was husbands and marrying and…

  She stood up. She’d make herself a cup of tea. It was too late for coffee; with the caffeine jitters, she’d never be able to go to sleep. She’d just brew up some Earl Gray and sip it while…knitting. She could knit. Or rather, she’d knitted in the past. No time like the present to reacquaint herself with her knitting needles. Maybe she could knit some scarves for the homeless shelter in Boise. That’d be a good thing to do. They always needed—

  Her personal cell phone rang, and Abby practically leapt for it. Anything to do that wasn’t thinking about Wyatt Miller was a Very Good Thing at that point.

  “Hello?” she said breathlessly, shoving the phone between her ear and shoulder as she put her tea kettle under the faucet.

  “Hi, Abby?” His voice rumbled through the phone, warm and friendly. She almost dropped the phone into the overflowing water but just managed to catch it and shove it back between her shoulder and ear before flipping the gushing water off. She sank against the edge of the sink.

  “How did you get my personal number?” she asked, totally confused. She hadn’t given it to him; she never gave it out to prisoners. Not that she would’ve told him no if he’d asked for it, because he was Wyatt Miller, not just any ol’ prisoner, but he hadn’t asked, and thus she hadn’t given it to him.

  “It’s a small town, Abby. It’s not hard to get someone’s number if you want to.”

  She rolled her eyes and then realized that he couldn’t see her. Gah. Sometimes, small towns were a little too up-in-her-space for her.

  Of course, it wasn’t that she was upset that he was calling. It’d just thrown her off, was all. She poured some of the extra water down the drain and then put the kettle on the stove. “What can I do for you, Mr. Miller?”

  Which was a ridiculous thing to call him, considering everything, but it just sort of slipped out. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach that she was going to screw this relationship up out of sheer ineptitude, just like she had every other relationship she’d attempted over the years.

  She was 33 and single for a reason, and she couldn’t blame all of it on the fact that her father was the sheriff, or her weight.

  He hesitated for a moment and she was sure she’d completely blown it, but he finally went on and she blew out a breath of relief. “I’ve really been enjoying working with the kids and Adam this past week,” he said. “I started to wonder if you’d like to come along with me? I know how much you like horses.”

  That was true. Pretty much everyone knew how much she liked horses; it didn’t take much to know that. You just had to know her back in her high school days, when she was on the Long Valley Roping Team and was winning most calf roping events that she entered. Her favorite horse of all time, Black Diamond, was the only thing that got her through her mother’s death.

  Horses were expensive, though, and she hadn’t been able to afford the upkeep in the last couple of years. Her heart yearned for it. “Yes, please,” she said, and she was a little embarrassed by how breathlessly happy she sounded, but she couldn’t help herself. He might as well have asked her if she wanted a pot of gold delivered to her house in the morning.

  Except time with horses was more priceless than gold.

  “Fine, fine. I’ll come by your house tomorrow around three – will you be home?”

  “Yeah, I work the morning shift tomorrow, so I’ll be cutting it close, but I’ll be here.”

  “See you then.” He hung up without another word, which was just when her tea kettle let out an ear-piercing whistle. The water wa
s hot. She pulled it off the burner and flipped open the cap at the end of the spout to stop the whistling. She just stood there and stared at it though, not moving another inch.

  He wanted her to spend time with the horses. He was going to come over and pick her up.

  Was this some sort of…date?

  A small smile that grew larger the more she thought, burst into place. Wyatt Miller was asking her out on a date, but he was so out of touch, his “date” was asking his parole officer to come do his community service with him.

  She was pretty sure this had to be a first. She probably shouldn’t laugh, but it was so damn typical of Wyatt. She wasn't sure who else she knew would think that community service was a romantic atmosphere, but at the same time…

  She couldn’t find it in herself to be disappointed in the lack of romance in their upcoming date. Any date of any kind with Wyatt was one to be excited about.

  But also, she could sorta-kinda-maybe pass this off as not-a-date if word somehow got back to her father. She could simply be checking up on him. Making sure everything was going okay. Sure, she’d never heard of a parole officer doing that before, but why not? They were a small town and made up rules as they went along all the time. This could just be another made-up rule.

  She sat down on the couch with her cup of tea but realized that she was now struggling with another problem: She was filled with a completely different set of jitters. Before, she hadn’t been able to settle on anything because she missed Wyatt. Now, she could hardly remember to blow on her tea before sipping it because she was going to see Wyatt. She wasn’t sure which state of mind was worse for her.

  Jasmine jumped up and cuddled next to her, stretching her paw out across Abby’s lap as she stroked down the soft fur.

  “Jasmine, I need to get my head on straight.” Jasmine’s purr rumbled through her leg, which Abby decided to take as agreement.

  “Even though Wyatt isn’t my prisoner anymore, he is still on parole. Then even after he gets off that, the idea that I could date him is…ludicrous. Simply nuts. Father would have a heart attack, and then rise up off the table at the ER and strangle me with his bare hands.”

  Jasmine kept purring. Abby put down her empty tea cup on the end table, and then began petting Jasmine with both hands. The volume on her cat increased exponentially.

  “So tomorrow afternoon is going to be nothing more than a parole officer checking up on someone and making sure they’re not drinking or doing drugs or beating someone up.” Truth be told, she hadn’t heard of Wyatt touching a drop of alcohol since the night his family had been killed by that drunk driver, and she’d be willing to bet next year’s salary on the fact that he’d never taken drugs.

  And if he was going around beating people up, the sheriff’s department would be the first ones to hear about it.

  Which meant that if they were going to get all technical about it, there was…well, zero reason for her to go with him out to Adam’s place.

  Other than she just wanted to.

  Dammit.

  She scooped Jasmine up in her arms and flicked off the living room light. “Let’s go to bed,” she said, cuddling Jasmine to her as she navigated through the darkened living room. “I have a non-date date to go on tomorrow, and something tells me I’ll need all the rest I can get to make it through it.”

  Jasmine gave her a quick swipe across the lips with her roughened pink tongue, which Abby promptly decided to assign absolutely no meaning to at all.

  Chapter 23

  Wyatt

  He pulled up in front of the old Brightbart’s place – Abby’s place; he’d need to start calling it that, no matter what habit dictated – and sat for just a moment in his truck, staring out through his windshield. He hadn’t slept well the night before, so nervous about this whole date – was it a date? – that he’d just tossed and turned the whole night through. He’d spent the morning trying to keep himself busy so he wouldn’t totally make himself crazy as he waited for three o’clock to arrive, but he’d be the first one to admit that he was failing.

  He left his truck rumbling – it was hard on diesels to be turned off and on in the cold – and headed up to the front door. Now wasn’t the time for nerves. He was just picking Abby up and they were going to head over and hang out with a bunch of kids who loved horses and he wasn’t going to kiss Abby and everything was going to be fine.

  Just fine.

  He raised his hand to knock on the door but it swung open from underneath his knuckles to reveal Abby, smiling and heading out the door. “Ready?” she said as she went past him.

  He spun around and stared at her as she hurried up her walk towards his truck. Why had she been lying in wait like that? And why was she in such a hurry?

  He went after her, held her door open for her, and then went around to the driver’s side and swung in. Pulling out and heading out into the countryside towards Adam’s place, he cast about for something to ask, finally barking out, “How’d you sleep?”

  Except he winced as the words came out because they seemed rather…aggressive. He sounded like he was demanding, not asking. She smelled so good – the lemon scent wafting off her – and looked so good in a pair of form-fitting Wranglers and pearl-snap shirt, that he was lucky he was keeping his truck on the road. He was having a real hard time facing forward, to be honest. He was all mixed up inside, and nervous as hell.

  He gripped the steering wheel harder, trying to convince himself that breathing was a good idea.

  “I slept fine,” she said, sending him a sideways glance. He was aware of every move she made, like it was being telegraphed directly to his brain and when her tongue flicked out and wet her lips, he felt it real strongly…somewhere else.

  He shifted in his seat.

  “Good,” he grunted.

  “How’s your week out there been going so far?” Abby asked.

  “Fine, fine,” he said. “The kids in this program are…good.”

  He stumbled for a moment. That wasn’t strictly true in the well-behaved sense. They often tested boundaries and he had to keep a close eye on them. But they were sure awesome to be around. He’d found himself falling in love with a couple of them, especially Juan. He was a foster kid, only nine and wanting nothing more than to be loved…and being so scared no one would.

  He saw a lot of himself in Juan.

  He cleared his throat again and grumped out, “You’ll like the kids. And the horses.”

  Why was he being like this? The other night at her house, he hadn’t acted this way.

  Maybe because he hadn’t spent the twenty-four hours previous to that night staring at the ceiling, working himself up into knots. Maybe he shouldn’t ever see Abby except as a surprise. He could only accidentally run her down with his cart at the Shop ‘N Go before being allowed to spend time with her. Then he wouldn’t have time to work himself up into a lather beforehand.

  Seemed like a good enough plan, minus the randomness of it all. He wanted to see Abby a lot, not just occasionally.

  He swallowed hard. It was thoughts like that that had him wrapped up in knots.

  “I appreciate the invitation,” she said with a gentle smile, turning in her seat to look at him. “I have a couple friends who have horses and let me come over and ride them sometimes, but I sure do miss it.”

  “Why don’t you have horses out at the Brightbart’s place? They have that barn – I’m sure you could house a horse in there and put it out to pasture during the summer.”

  She shrugged. “I’m sure you know this, but horses are…expensive, and then the Brightbart kids – they want to be able to rent out the pasture as another source of income. So if I want a horse, I have to pay extra for that pasture, on top of vet care, hay, and everything else that a horse needs. Plus, no horse should be alone, so I really ought to have two, which just about doubles all the costs…” She heaved a sigh. “It’s a lot for a deputy’s salary, you know?”

  He did know. Money was always tight – that�
�s just the way the world was. If he spent a little more on one thing, that meant cutting back elsewhere. Truth was, being locked up in jail at the tail-end of harvest this past year could’ve ruined him financially, and he knew it, and the judge knew it. He was damn lucky that he had Declan in his corner, or the bank could’ve ended up with his place back on the auction block for someone else to take a chance on.

  They pulled into Adam’s place, which was actually his mom’s place. Ruby had arthritis and wasn’t able to live by herself anymore. He’d moved back in with her to help take care of her years ago.

  Adam was good people.

  Wyatt shot Abby a smile. “Ready?” he asked, a little less gruffly than before. He felt a tiny bit more at ease than previously, and he realized it was because she’d opened up to him about finances. That wasn’t the kind of topic you talked about with just anyone, and yet, she’d trusted him enough to tell him the truth.

  That meant a lot.

  She grinned back at him. “Ready!”

  They hopped out of the truck and towards the barn. It was horse time, and Wyatt couldn’t wait.

  Chapter 24

  Abby

  When she’d riled herself up last night about going out with Wyatt on their non-date date, she’d imagined a lot of scenarios playing out in her head, anywhere from just hanging out as friends to him sweeping her off her feet and finding a hayloft to make love to her in. Granted, that was a far-fetched one but it was her daydreams, dammit, and thus in them, she could make love to Wyatt without her father going into nuclear meltdown over it.

  The one scenario she hadn’t imagined? A morose Wyatt barking at her.

  At first, she couldn’t fathom what was going on. He’d been so totally different the night they ate dinner together, and that had just been a week ago. He’d obviously wanted to be around her, because he asked her to come with him today. So why was he snapping at her like a wounded animal?