by Liz Isaacson
Dalton extended his hand to shake Wyatt’s, smiling for all he was worth. “I’m still savin’ up for one,” he said. “I think you have a new one coming out soon, right?”
“November,” Wyatt said. “I can get you one.”
“You can?” Dalton’s voice pitched up to the ceiling. “That would be awesome.”
Whitney tugged on Jeremiah’s hand to get him to come into the kitchen with her. Dalton kept talking to Wyatt, and she was encouraged by his ability to get over his fear. “So I have something to tell you,” she said, moving to stand next to the counter with all the photography props.
Jeremiah took in the scene before them. “What’s all this?” He put the white bag of sandwiches on the table and looked at her.
She cleared her throat and pressed her fingertips together. “Jeremiah, I’m, uh, I take the baby photos I hang up in Wilde & Organic.” She sucked in a breath and held it for a moment. “I’m Lake Winters.”
His mouth opened and then shut again, his face draining of color. “You….”
“It’s fine,” she said. “I’m not upset or anything.” She swept her hand over the fruit she’d carefully prepared. “But my shoot tonight is a cute little girl named Charity, and her parents wanted her posed in a basket of fruit.”
Jeremiah searched her face, pure panic on his. Before he could say anything, Wyatt’s loud laughter filled the room, and Dalton came into the kitchen. “He’s so great, Aunt Whitney. Thank you so much.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a couple of bottles of soda.
“Are we eating?” Wyatt asked, and Jeremiah ducked his head and fell back a couple of steps. Wyatt opened the bag of sandwiches, his eyes glued to his brother.
Whitney turned away and got down glasses and a pitcher. She had bottled soda and water, but she suddenly felt like sweet tea. After all, it had helped soothe her nerves in the past, and she and Jeremiah couldn’t have the talk they needed to have right now anyway.
Chapter Twenty
Out of all the things Wyatt had to do as a rodeo champion, talking to kids was the easiest. Dalton clearly had stars in his eyes, and Wyatt wasn’t going to rope them and pull them closer to earth. If he thought the rodeo life was one he wanted, well, nothing Wyatt said would change that anyway.
“Do you compete now?” he asked the teen.
“I’ve done the junior bull riding,” he said, and Wyatt thought a kid as skinny as him would’ve been knocked off a bull by a stiff wind. “I placed first.”
“That’s great,” Wyatt said, meaning it. “Do you do FFA or plan on doing agriculture, animal care…?”
“Do you think I should?”
“There are great scholarships in the junior rodeo,” Wyatt said. “I got involved in it through my high school FFA program. And I got my college paid for by winnin’ bronc riding events.”
Dalton’s eyes widened, if that was even possible. “I’ll have to find out for next year.”
“You gonna be a sophomore?”
“Yeah.”
“You should be able to qualify if you’re winnin’ bull riding on the junior circuit already.” He lifted his soda bottle to his lips, noticing that Jeremiah and Whitney hadn’t said two words. “If your grades are okay, at least.”
He watched Dalton’s face fall slightly. Jeremiah had mentioned that Dalton liked hanging out with Whitney because she didn’t nag him the way her sister did. Wyatt understood that on a deep level, as he’d always seemed to be the third man on a three-man team. He’d come along right after the twins, and he never could quite get either of them to side with him, and Skyler and Micah had brought up the rear, and they were as inseparable as Liam and Tripp.
Stuck between them, with two older brothers who palled around, Wyatt had taken to animals more than his brothers. Sure, he had friends, but it wasn’t a surprise to anyone when he rode the rodeo circuit and left home the moment he could turn pro.
He took a bite of his steak sandwich, the sauce Lowry’s put on their meat something out of this world. He hadn’t come to lecture Dalton, but no one else was talking.
“What’s with the fruit, Whitney?” he asked, nodding to the spread on the kitchen counter.
“It’s for my shoot tonight.” She flashed him a tight smile, and Wyatt wanted to leave. At least give Whitney and Jeremiah the space they needed to talk. He picked up his sandwich and his bottle of soda. “I feel like eatin’ outside.”
“Wyatt,” Jeremiah said, but Wyatt shook his head.
“Dalton, you want to join me?” He saw a cat paw a tiny bell on Whitney’s back door. “Looks like that feline needs to go out too.”
“C’mon, Jones,” Dalton said, opening the door as he balanced his food and soda in his hands too.
“You don’t need to leave,” Whitney said.
“I like eating outside,” Wyatt said, and he followed Dalton into the garage, where he took a hard left and went through another door to walk into the backyard. Whitney was either hiding some very green thumbs, or she paid someone to keep her yard an oasis of trees, bushes, flowers, and vegetables.
“Wow.” Wyatt whistled as he sat at the outdoor table on the patio. “Look at this place. It’s beautiful.”
“Aunt Whitney shoots out here sometimes,” Dalton said. “I take care of the yard for her. She pays me.”
“You take care of this?” Wyatt knew enough to know the bushes had been shaped recently, that the cattails required a lot of tender care, and the fruit trees lining the back fence didn’t just grow by themselves. “That’s pretty amazing, Dalton.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I think I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever had.” He chuckled as he took another bite of his sandwich. “What do you think was goin’ on inside?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Aunt Whitney was acting weird before y’all got here.” He shrugged and picked up his sandwich. “Thanks for the food.”
“Yeah, of course.” Wyatt watched the boy for a moment. “You know there’s a horse training facility out at Three Rivers Ranch, right?”
“Bowman’s Breeds.”
“You should come work out there,” he said. “Ethan and Brynn are lookin’ for people all the time.”
“I applied,” he said. “I had to be eighteen.”
Wyatt nodded, though he didn’t understand that rule. “Maybe I could talk to them. I work out there now.”
Dalton looked at him for a moment. “You work out there?”
“Sure do.”
“But aren’t you, like, rich?”
Wyatt laughed, though he could see things from Dalton’s perspective. In fact, one of the main reasons he’d loved the rodeo so much was because of the earnings potential. He’d been a millionaire by the time he turned twenty-two, and he didn’t need his father’s billions to be a billionaire.
“Yeah, but everything has a price,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
As if answering, a twinge of pain moved through his back. “I mean, I’d be bored out of my mind without somethin’ to fill the daylight.” He put the last of his sandwich in his mouth and finished eating. “You should come out with me sometime. We’ll see if we can’t get Brynn to sign off on something for you to do. Even just feeding or saddling. It would be a job, and you’d like it.”
“I would like that,” Dalton said. “Thanks.” He grinned from ear to ear. “And maybe my mom wouldn’t be after me to work at the store so much.” He chuckled, and Wyatt saw so much of himself in the teenager.
“And I’ve got rodeo equipment and horses at Seven Sons,” he said. “Have your aunt bring you out next time she comes to see Jeremiah. We can do some training.”
“Are you serious? Like for real, serious?” Dalton jumped to his feet and leaned into the table. “Really?”
Wyatt smiled and said, “Sit down, Dalton. How much can you lift?”
“Lift?”
“Rodeo cowboys have to be strong,” he said. “I think you might wither away once fall comes.” Wyatt chuckl
ed so the teen would know he was kidding.
“I can get stronger.”
Yeah, and Wyatt could make the pain in his back, shoulders, and neck go away. He just smiled and said, “I can take you to the gym; show you the workout I do.” Of course, then he might have to admit to more than Marcy about his injuries. He’d just go slow, not do the moves full out. Dalton wouldn’t even expect him to.
His phone rang, and speak of the devil, Marcy’s name sat on the screen. “I gotta get this,” he said to Dalton, swiping on the call. He didn’t stand up and move away from the boy, because he didn’t have anything to hide.
“Hey, sugar,” he said.
“Wyatt Walker,” she said, her voice full of mock irritation. “How many times have I told you not to call me sugar?”
“It’ll have to be one more, baby.” He grinned at Dalton, really enjoying this game he and Marcy were playing. Of course, he’d like to be on the court with her full-time, but she was still holding him at arm’s length.
He could gallop out there for a while, though, and he honestly didn’t mind. “What’s up?”
“I’m wondering where you are and if you could bring dinner to Daddy’s. I was supposed to make it, but he didn’t get the ground beef out of the freezer. And then I thought I’d go get something, but I can’t leave him here.” Something moved on her end of the line, and when she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper. “He’s not doing so great tonight.”
“What do you want?” Wyatt asked, already standing up. “I’ve got a friend with me, but I’m sure he can come along for a ride.”
“Oh, I don’t want to pull you from something.”
Wyatt looked through the windows that showed him the dining room table. Jeremiah and Whitney seemed to be in quite the involved discussion, and Wyatt didn’t even want to take his trash back inside. “You’re not pulling me from anything, sweetheart. Tell me what you want, and I’ll get it and be there in two shakes.”
He nodded to Dalton, who picked up all their trash and led the way back into the garage. He put the garbage in a can there, and pressed a button to open the garage door. Wyatt listened as Marcy outlined what she wanted from JCW’s, one of the best burger joints in town—in Wyatt’s opinion. Not that he’d tried them all…yet.
“Mushroom Swiss,” he repeated to her as he ducked under the still-rising door. “Bacon cheeseburger. Large cheese fries. Got it.” He hung up and realized that he’d ridden to Whitney’s with Jeremiah.
“I don’t suppose you have a car and know how to drive?” He looked at Dalton, who pulled a set of keys from his front pocket. A grin filled Wyatt’s face, and he said, “Great, our first stop is JCW’s. My almost-girlfriend and her father need dinner. And I need ice cream.”
Dalton laughed as they got into the car. Wyatt had to slide the passenger seat all the way back just to fold himself inside the tiny sedan. “What do you mean by almost-girlfriend?” Dalton asked. “Because I think I might have one of those too….”
Wyatt sure did like this kid, and he explained his situation with Marcy as he texted Jeremiah about where he was going and that he’d get a ride back to the ranch with Dalton.
His brother didn’t answer, which was never a good sign. The man wore his phone, and he saw everything almost the moment it came in. Sure, he had some times where he was really busy around the ranch, but since he’d started delegating more to Orion, Dicky, and the other cowboys, Jeremiah could be found napping in the hay loft every single afternoon.
So it was very odd that he didn’t at least read Wyatt’s text, and he wondered what had gone south between Jeremiah and Whitney.
None of your business, he told himself, because he wouldn’t want one of his brothers sticking his nose into a situation of Wyatt’s that he was handling just fine on his own.
And that was why he didn’t tell anyone about his injuries or medical troubles. You’re going to have to, he told himself, not for the first time.
This past week, his doctor had told Wyatt he needed one more surgery to fix everything in his back. And he couldn’t go through that alone. Not again. Jeremiah at the very least would need to know, as he and Wyatt lived together.
But for right now, he just wanted a peanut butter cup shake, Marcy’s food, and the freedom to spend an hour with her. He hadn’t kissed her yet, and that was why he wasn’t really her boyfriend.
But maybe one day soon….
Chapter Twenty-One
Jeremiah knew he was coming across as angry and frustrated. And he was—with himself. “I’m so sorry,” he finally said. “I should’ve led with that.” He held up his hands in surrender. He didn’t want to fight with Whitney. But being honest and truthful was extremely important to him. Extremely. He had to be able to trust Whitney, and to find out she was a whole different persona?
He didn’t know how to process it. He just kept looking at the shiny, red apples. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t tell anyone but my clients.”
“We’re getting married in six weeks,” he said. “Were you ever going to say something?”
“Yes,” she said. “I just…I don’t know. I hardly do any newborns, so it hasn’t been an issue until now.” Her dark eyes flashed with fire too, and Jeremiah backed down again. This woman had him doing things he never thought he’d do, like swallowing his feelings and buying engagement rings.
Jeremiah nodded. He could accept that. “I’m very sensitive about this,” he said, ignoring his phone as it chimed. Whoever had texted could wait.
“I know,” Whitney said. “But I’m not Laura Ann, and you’ve told me to just tell you, and I did. Heck, I laid out the spread I’m going to be doing.” Her phone rang, and she said, “It’s Dalton. Just a sec.”
Jeremiah picked up his phone and saw that Wyatt had texted. He was going to get Marcy and her father some dinner.
“Yes, all right,” Whitney said. “Yeah, of course. Have fun.” She hung up. “Dalton went with Wyatt.” Her eyes glittered at him, and Jeremiah’s pulse pounced through his veins.
“What’s that look for?” he asked, smiling.
“I suddenly find myself in need of an assistant for my newborn shoot.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Well, you better find one,” he said.
“Jeremiah,” she said, almost a whine. “You can do it.”
“No way,” he said. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Dalton doesn’t either. He was just going to help with the lights tonight. I’m doing a new technique I learned in my class, and I don’t quite know what I’m doing.”
He cocked his head at her, glad their first argument had been somewhat minor. His stomach was still a bit tight, but he didn’t believe she’d deliberately kept something from him. “So if you have an assistant, you can blame them, is that it?”
“Ah, you’re getting to know me so well.” Whitney laughed, and Jeremiah stood when she did, helping her take plates and trash into the kitchen.
He snaked his arms around her from behind and pressed his lips to the back of her neck. “Sorry I’m a little intense. I don’t try to be.”
Whitney turned in his arms, clasping her fingers behind his neck. “I like how intense you are. But you can’t just jump to conclusions.”
“Agreed,” he said. “I’ll work on that.” He’d been making a lot of progress in his feelings about marriage and love and Laura Ann. Even four months ago, if he’d have found out about Whitney and Lake Winters, he’d have taken one look at the apples and pears and stomped out the front door.
So he’d definitely taken some good steps forward.
“And I’ll admit that one of the biggest reasons I told you was because Evelyn called and booked me for Thursday morning.”
Jeremiah looked into her eyes, seeing the slight panic there. He tipped his head back and laughed, swaying with Whitney in her kitchen. “Well, I’ll thank her then,” he said. “You don’t have to keep secrets from me, even if I wouldn
’t like them.”
“You just…you said the photography was ridiculous.”
Jeremiah stilled, understanding hitting him. “Oh, my goodness. Whitney, no.” He ran his fingers through her hair, wishing he could take back the stupid and rude things he’d said. “I didn’t…I’m so sorry.”
She closed her eyes and leaned into his chest, but he thought that might be a tactic so he couldn’t see her face. And he didn’t like that. “I don’t care what you do, baby,” he said. “Honestly, I don’t. Shoot zombie brides or babies and pumpkins. I don’t care.”
“You don’t like the pictures, though,” she whispered.
“I don’t have to like them,” he said, which he realized was the complete wrong thing to say. “I mean, of course I like them. I can see the artistic value in them.”
Whitney sighed and stepped out of his arms. “I guess it’s just like me liking asparagus and you not,” she said.
“I happen to love asparagus,” Jeremiah said. “But if you’re talking something like Brussel sprouts, then yes, it’s just like that.”
She gave him a quick smile, but it was tired and not full of her usual life. “I get to boss you around tonight, cowboy,” she said. “Consider it payback for saying the pictures were ridiculous.”
“Whitney.” He took her chin in one hand and looked at her. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded as much as she was able, and said, “Thank you.”
Jeremiah kissed her sweetly, because he wanted her to know he really meant the apology. Thankfully, that seemed to work, and she started directing him where to put the lights, the basket, and the fruit.
Before he knew it, the doorbell rang, and a couple came in carrying the cutest, most precious baby girl on the planet. Jeremiah’s whole heart melted, and he was once again reminded of how much he wanted to be a husband and a father. The ache to be married and have those family things felt unending, and he smiled as Whitney took the baby and cooed at it.
She looked up, and their eyes met. The moment was magical and perfect, and Whitney’s smile was pure and beautiful. “Jeremiah,” she said. “This is Bea and Wendall Roop. And their sweet baby Charity.”
