“Yes,” Wyatt said, distracted. He got it together enough to refocus and pay the star some attention. “Wyatt Brandt.”
Dylan put out his hand. “Nice meeting you.”
“Same here.”
They shook hands. “I understand you think the river’s too fast to do the crossing scene today?”
“That’s right. I told the director we should wait. I know the area, and that current is only going to get stronger as the day progresses. It’s not safe for the animals. Clouds are starting to gather and those breezes are gonna turn ugly in a few hours. The winds will only complicate things. Sorry, I know it’s not the news you hoped to hear.”
“No need to apologize. We can shoot around it. Keeping the animals and crew safe is a priority. I just wanted to hear it from you.”
“Sure thing.”
“So, you’re from around here?”
“I’ve lived in Texas all my life. I own Blue Horizon Ranch some twenty-five miles from here.”
“Horses?”
“Cattle, but we have a string of Arabians and cutting horses on the ranch, too.”
They spoke about horses and Texas for a while, and Wyatt came away thinking that Dylan McKay wasn’t a stereotypical prima donna celebrity. It was on the tip of his tongue during the conversation to ask him about Brooke. But that didn’t happen. Dylan had been called away. Just as well. Wyatt had come to the conclusion that he needed to speak to Brooke himself.
Sure, she’d lied to him about who she was.
But he’d left her alone in a hotel room after a wild night of sex, without much of an explanation.
He marched over to the honey wagon with a clear vision of what needed saying, but as he came close to knocking on the trailer door, his mind began to blur. Visions of Brooke slapping his face a good one flashed in his head. She might call security to toss him off the property.
He’d like to see them try.
But his hand clenched into a fist and he rapped on the door regardless. Things needed saying. It was as simple as that.
The door opened, and he was shell-shocked when a pretty, pregnant redhead stood facing him. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Uh, sure. I wanted to speak with Brooke. I’m Wyatt Brandt.”
“Okay, Wyatt. Let me see if Brooke is available. What can I tell her this is about?”
Hell, the wagon wasn’t that big. Brooke was probably hearing this whole conversation. “Just mention my name. Tell her I hope she’ll see me.”
“I’ll see him, Emma.” Brooke said, her voice stony. And then she appeared in the doorway. She wasn’t happy about seeing him, yet her beautiful brown eyes widened a bit when she looked at him, turning his brain to mush. The words he wanted to say fled him faster than a jackrabbit running from a hound.
“Hello, Brooke.”
“Wyatt.”
Emma gave them both a curious glance. “You know, I just remembered I have an errand to run.”
Out here? There wasn’t a town for miles.
“You don’t have to leave, Emma. This won’t take long,” Brooke told her.
“No, no. I’ve really got to, to, uh...talk to Dylan. He’s waiting on me to meet him down by the river.”
Emma ducked her head and scooted down the steps quickly, giving them privacy.
Brooke’s curvy body blocked the doorway. “I’m not inviting you in.”
“There’s no need for that. I just wanted to say...” Brooke’s arms were folded and any minute now, she’d be tapping her foot, schoolteacher style. “Listen, I have some explaining to do. But so do you. You lied to me.”
“About what?”
“About your name. You faked your identity.”
“I have my reasons for that. But you skipped out...and oh, never mind.”
“Can we talk?”
“I thought that’s what we’re doing.”
“No, I mean really talk. I feel badly about how I had to leave you that morning. I do, and I want to make it up to you.”
If body language had anything to do with it, she’d surely refuse him, but something stopped her. Instead, she seemed to be considering it. “What did you have in mind?”
“Come out to the ranch and have dinner with me. We can talk there, uninterrupted.” Well, that depended on two little rascals and their sleep schedule, but he couldn’t offer her anything more right now. His sense of honor was at stake. He didn’t usually treat women the way he’d treated Brooke, and he wanted to make amends. “I can pick you up later and take you to the ranch.”
“No. I don’t think so,” she said, and he felt the disappointment all the way to his toes. “I’ll drive out. Just give me directions...easy directions, or I may not find it,” she said.
She was agreeing? Why was he so damn happy about that?
“Great. It’s about half an hour’s drive from here and it’s practically a straight run. I’ll write down the directions. But I’d be happy to pick you up.”
“No, I’ll drive to you,” she said, in a tone that meant business.
He got it. She wanted to be able to leave at a moment’s notice. He didn’t care. At least the nagging thoughts plaguing his mind would be put to rest after he explained the whole one-night-stand business.
The trick was trying to sort it all out in his own head first.
* * *
With her windows rolled down and a light drizzle dotting her windshield, Brooke was actually enjoying the ride. The muggy Texas day had given way to an evening of fresh scents and cooler temperatures. Her windshield wipers clicked on and off and her driving arm was hit with an occasional raindrop as she steered over remote terrain toward Wyatt Brandt’s ranch.
If it weren’t for the baby she was carrying, she wouldn’t be making this drive, but the opportunity to tell Wyatt the truth presented itself today when he shown up on the set of The Price of Glory. Seeing pigs fly would’ve shocked her less than having Wyatt Brandt appear at the river.
But as luck or bad karma would have it—she wasn’t sure which—Wyatt had come out of nowhere again, her not-so-miraculous cowboy. Talking to him had become inevitable. She certainly couldn’t speak with him on Dylan’s set; there were too many opportunities to trigger gossip and speculation. And at Zane’s home, there’d be too many eyes and ears around to have a private conversation, namely her brother’s and Emma’s.
Country music filled the silence of the road. Brooke sang along with Reba to keep her mind off what she was about to do. The words of “Cowgirls Don’t Cry” poured out of her as she traveled over a lovely wooden bridge, the creek below surging with water. Alongside the water’s edge, a carpet of healthy bluebonnets stretched out as far as the eye could see.
The picturesque image stayed with her and gave her a sense of peace. Soon white fences lined with Mexican oaks standing tall and probably designed for privacy came into view. Long branches with leathery leaves waved at her as she drove by. Within a minute, she came upon brick columns and iron gates and a pretty metal sign embossed with the sun rising over the land, welcoming her to Blue Horizon Ranch.
She sighed. Grateful to have made it without getting lost or running out of gas, she now had to contend with the fact that she was here. And one way or another, her life was going to change forever when she revealed her pregnancy to Wyatt Brandt.
As she drove through the open gates, the sudden strong scent of cattle filled her nostrils. Texans told her she’d get used to the smells around these parts, but it wasn’t exactly vanilla sugar she was breathing in and she sincerely doubted that smell would be a treat to her nose anytime soon.
But oh man, the ranch was beautiful. The branches of whispering oaks formed a canopy over the road leading to a beautiful slate-gray stone ranch house. Wide windows gave the place an open feel. Across the way, the barns and outer bu
ildings were faced with white wood and gray-toned shutters. It was homey and contemporary at the same time. Brooke immediately loved Wyatt’s home. From the outside.
What lay in store for her on the inside was another matter.
She drove the circular drive and parked the car. She was on time for a change.
She’d dressed for dinner in old Brooke style, wearing basic black hip-hugging slacks, a silver-and-black shimmery top, and a wide belt. Her shoes were skyscrapers in red suede. She wasn’t entirely sure she’d dressed this way out of defiance or as a shield of armor. She knew one thing: she felt comfortable in her own skin, and right now she needed that burst of confidence to confront Wyatt and tell him the truth.
She knocked at the door, and when nothing happened, she hit the doorbell. Inside, she heard the chimes ring out. A moment later, the door opened and she stood face-to-face with Wyatt.
Holding a squirming baby boy dressed in tiny denim overalls.
It was the last thing she expected. The child’s melt-your-heart blue eyes were a perfect match to Wyatt’s. The baby took one look at her and turned his head into Wyatt’s shoulder and clung on for dear life.
“Wyatt?” She was rendered speechless after that, staring at the man who’d made her insides quiver just one month ago. Now he looked the picture of domesticity, his pale blue shirtsleeves rolled up, a stain that looked like sweet potato on his collar, his short blond hair disheveled.
“Come in, Brooke. I’m glad you made it okay.”
She stared at him, still not believing what she was seeing. He’d never mentioned having a child. Although there’d seemed to be a silent agreement between them not to delve too deeply into their private lives. But being a father? Having a child was news he should’ve shared with her.
When she stood rooted to the spot, Wyatt moved aside and nodded, encouraging her to enter the house.
She stepped inside, instantly aware of her surroundings: the planks of light gray flooring under her feet, the brightness of the rooms even as dusk was settling. But what struck her the most was seeing the parlor crowded with toys: a fire truck and princess car suitable for a toddler and musical instruments and blocks everywhere. Everything was tidy and yet, it was there.
Wyatt closed the door behind her. “This is Brett, my son. He was supposed to be sleeping by the time you arrived. Obviously that didn’t happen. Babies tend to make liars of their parents.”
“You never mentioned you had a child, Wyatt.” She tried hard not to put accusation in her tone.
“Would that have made a difference?”
“I don’t know.” It was the truth. She’d been so incredibly drawn to Wyatt that if he’d been open with her and told her he was a father, would she have fallen so easily into bed with him? She wasn’t sure.
The baby inclined his head toward her, his rosy face so sweet, so curious. “Hello, Brett.”
Brett clung tighter to Wyatt’s neck.
“He’s not much of a talker yet.”
“How old is he?”
“Going on nineteen months.”
“He’s beautiful, Wyatt.”
“Thanks, he’s the best part of me. Well, him and his twin sister, Brianna.”
“There’s two of them?” Her ears twitched at the sound of her own voice. Twins? Wyatt had two children. This was all a bit much for her to take in. Her crazy hormones brought the threat of tears. She forced them down and tried not to think about what his reaction would be when she told him her news.
“Yes, and they’re a handful, believe me. Listen, I want to explain all this to you. Why don’t you have a seat in the dining room?” He started walking and she followed. “There’s wine and cheese and other snacks ready. My housekeeper, Henrietta, is gone for the day, but she put out a nice spread for us. It’ll just take me a few minutes to put Brett down to sleep and change my clothes.”
He gave her another cursory glance. “You look pretty, by the way,” he said, his miracle cowboy charm taking hold again. He was such a freaking gentleman, she had trouble remembering how he’d dumped her after a spectacular night of sex.
A night that they’d conceived a child.
“Please,” he was saying, “have a seat.”
Robotically she obeyed. And once he excused himself, she sat there stunned and feeling foolish. Her perfect miracle cowboy had engaged in lies of omission. Was he at that wedding just to hook up with a woman? Was her man radar off that much that she couldn’t recognize a player?
But deep inside, she kept telling herself it wasn’t true. She couldn’t have been that much off the mark with Wyatt. He’d been wonderful that night, and today, he’d invited her to his ranch to explain. Yet it nagged at her that if they hadn’t accidentally met today, it would’ve been solely up to her to seek him out. It put her in an awkward spot.
A waterfall of rain poured over the gutter above the dining room bay window, drawing her attention. Lit by surrounding lights, it was a pretty distraction even if the skies were dark and filled with dreary clouds. It sort of mirrored her mood right now. Her nerves were jumping, and she bounded up to walk around the room, stopping to look at the pretty things in the china hutch, expensive yet tasteful pieces of crystal, delicate dishes and gold-rimmed teacups.
“That teacup set dates back to post-Civil War,” Wyatt said quietly.
She hadn’t heard him enter the room, but he stood behind her now and when she turned around, he was a breath away, staring into her eyes. The faint hint of his cologne brought reminders of being naked with him, of his hands on her and...
“It was my grandmother’s favorite...” His voice trailed off as his gaze dipped down to her mouth.
Brooke felt the jolt down to her toes and looked away, pretending interest in the rain.
She wasn’t going there with him, not again. There was too much unsaid between them.
He sighed and stepped away, pulling out a chair for her. The table was set perfectly, with some of the same fine china from the cabinet. She sat back down. Before he took a seat, he offered her a glass of wine.
“No thanks,” she said. No alcohol for her.
He nodded, probably thinking she was being careful because she’d have to drive home. Well, there was that, too.
“You haven’t touched anything,” he noted.
“I’m not hungry right now, Wyatt.” She was queasy about being here and queasy in general due to being pregnant.
“Okay, we can wait on dinner.”
He braced his elbows on the table, matched the fingers of both hands in a steeple under his chin and sighed. “Brooke, I’m very glad you’re here. The way I left you that morning was...unforgivable. I was out of my element and unsure what to do.”
“You didn’t appear unsure of anything the night we were together.”
“Maybe it was you...”
“Don’t butter me up, Wyatt. I can’t get past the fact that if we hadn’t accidentally met today, I would’ve never heard from you.”
“You gave me a fake name.”
“And you ran out on me after we...” She shook off the thought. She’d been over this in her mind a hundred times.
“I guess we both have explaining to do.”
“You go first,” she said. “And then I’ll let you know if I want to share my reasons with you.”
He nodded. Of the two sins, his was by far the worst, and he seemed to know it by the miserable look on his face. “My explanation is simple, but hard to admit. I lost my wife about ten months ago. She got in the car one day to pick up diapers for the twins and she never returned. She was pushed off the road by a semitruck. Her car plummeted off the shoulder and crashed into a tree.”
Brooke gasped quietly, surprised to learn of Wyatt’s loss. It explained a lot about why he hadn’t spoken much about his past. He was probably still
in a great deal of pain. When she’d met him he’d told her he was newly single. She’d thought that meant he had broken up with a girlfriend, or he was divorced. It never occurred to her that he might be a widower.
“That’s awful, Wyatt. I’m so incredibly sorry.”
She couldn’t imagine losing someone she loved that way. One minute they were alive and vital and then in the blink of an eye, they’re gone. How terribly sad it was for the mother who would never know her children. And those poor little babies, too. It was tragic all the way around.
She’d never forget how she felt when Dylan’s life was in danger. She’d been absolutely terrified for him and she couldn’t imagine losing him. But Wyatt had had to face that reality. He’d become a widower at a very young age.
“Thanks. I’ve been wallowing in self-pity and grief and as you can see, I have my hands full with the twins. They’re about all I can handle. Two is like having four. Henrietta keeps reminding me how hard it is on her. I’m trying my best to find a suitable nanny, but it isn’t easy. The last two who worked for me were mediocre at best. The babies didn’t seem to respond to them, and they flaked on us a few times. I can’t have that. I need someone reliable. Henrietta is sticking with me for the short term. She’s getting on in age and she just can’t do both jobs. I offered to hire more help so she could take the kids on full-time, but her hubby is chomping at the bit for her to retire. I can’t say as I blame him.”
Wyatt’s shoulders lifted in a shrug that spoke volumes about his frustration. “My friend Johnny Wilde pressed me to go to that wedding. He said I had to get out and start living my life again. So, between him and Henrietta urging me on, I decided to go. The wedding was a way to distract me from the real issue that day. It was Madelyn’s birthday. She would’ve been thirty.”
Brooke was beginning to get the picture. “Was I your distraction, Wyatt?”
He gazed into her eyes, and his head made a slight movement. Was that a yes or a no? She couldn’t tell what he was thinking or what he was about to say by the solemn expression on his face. “You were...but in an unexpected way.”
Twins for the Texan Page 5
