Wyatt: Return of the Cowboy (2 page)

“I’m fine.”

“You look…older.”

“You haven’t changed one bit.”

She wiped at her damp cheeks. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He could tell by her smile that his compliment had pleased her.

“You’re home. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting and praying for this day.”

At her words, the invisible hold on his chest loosened, then released entirely, allowing him to breathe again.

“Me, too.”

“I’m so sorry about our disagreement in the hospital. I shouldn’t have pressured you.”

“You were just trying to help.”

“What brought you home? Are you staying?”

“I got the invitation to your anniversary party.”

She blinked. “You did?”

“You weren’t the one who sent it?”

“No, I…” She averted her face. “I would have. I wanted to. Your father, he refused—”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

“He’s a stubborn man.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You are alike that way.”

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t turn my back on one son in favor of the other.”

“You did leave,” she added gently, “and refused to talk to him when you called. Things might have gone differently if you’d stuck it out.”

“I’m not sure that was possible.”

She clasped his hand in hers. “What’s important is that you’re here now.”

“Except he’d rather I wasn’t. He made that perfectly clear.”

“You can’t leave again.” She gazed at him imploringly. “Not yet.”

“I won’t let him take his anger at me out on you.”

“His bark is far worse than his bite.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“Please stay, Wyatt, and give your father a chance.” Her fingers tightened. “He’ll come around eventually.”

He hadn’t in twelve years. Would a few more days make any difference?

If not for the invitation, Wyatt would get in his truck and head to Wyoming. Someone, Wyatt thought it must be Jay, wanted to see him.

“Okay. For a day or two.” Attending the party on Saturday was out of the question unless his father did indeed come around.

“Thank you.” His mother clung to him.

He held her close, thinking she’d grown shorter during his absence.

“I’d better find your father before he comes looking for me. Call me tonight on my cell.”

“I don’t have the number.”

“Paige will give it to you.” After yet another hug, this one brief, she hurried down the hall to the office.

Out in the saloon all eyes were once more fastened on him, including Paige’s. She stood just inside the front entrance, holding his coat.

She must want him gone even more than his father.

Wyatt was inclined to grant her wish despite his mother’s pleas.

He crossed the room and took his coat from Paige. A blustery wind howled outside. It matched his mood. “Take care, Paige.”

“Wyatt, wait.”

He paused. “For what?”

“I have an old motor home parked behind my garage. It’s not much to look at, but the heater works and the sheets on the overhead bunk are clean.”

He stared at her, not sure he’d heard correctly. “Are you offering me a place to stay?”

“If you want. Just until the party.”

“Why?”

“For your mother. She’s been awful good to me.”

“All right.” Wyatt decided to accept before he changed his mind. Besides, he wanted to talk to his brother. “I don’t know where you live.”

“I’m off in a few minutes. You can follow me home.”

“I’ll wait for you in my truck.”

“It’s cold out there.”

No colder than in here.

He was about to tell her he’d be fine outside when the saloon door flew open. Carried by the wind, it banged into the wall. Wyatt stepped quickly out of the door’s path, taking Paige with him. He didn’t realize his arm lay across her shoulders until he followed the narrowed gaze of the saloon’s newest occupant: a boy no older than eight or nine.

“Mom?” he said, his backpack sliding from his grip onto the floor.

“Mom?” Wyatt repeated, dumbstruck.

Paige went to the boy and placed an affectionate hand on the top of his snow-covered stocking cap. “Wyatt, this is my son, Seth. Seth, this is Mr. Malone, Ted and Arlene’s son and Councilman Malone’s younger brother. He’s going to be staying in the old motor home. Until the party,” she hastily clarified.

The boy observed Wyatt with eyes far too mature and far too wary for a kid his age.

“Nice to, um, meet you,” Wyatt muttered, grappling with the fact Paige had a son. He really should have written or called her in the last twelve years.

Seth looked up at Paige. “I’m hungry.”

“Give me a minute to fetch my things.”

She left Wyatt and Seth alone, during which they silently evaluated each other. Wyatt had the distinct impression he fell short of Seth’s expectations.

Well, why should the kid be any different than everyone else in town?

Chapter Two

Somewhere in between the first moment Paige saw Wyatt in the saloon and when she’d overheard his father’s cruel rejection, she lost her mind. No doubt about it.

Checking the rearview mirror—for the umpteenth time in the last five minutes—she let out a sigh. The fire-engine-red Dodge pickup remained glued to her bumper.

Nice truck, she mused. He’d won it last year at the National Finals Rodeo in Vegas when he took the World Championship in bareback bronc riding. Paige knew this because Arlene kept a scrapbook on her younger son’s career, which she hid in a nook behind the mountain of paper products stored in the closet.

Arlene sometimes shared the scrapbook with Paige. She didn’t with her husband. Ted would only get mad, tell her she was wasting her time.

Poor Wyatt. Paige hadn’t blamed him for leaving. She’d have left, too, under the same circumstances—would be gone now if Wyatt kept his promise and sent for her.

Only he hadn’t.

“Mom. Mom!”

“Yeah, sweetie, what is it?” How long had Seth been calling her name?

“I need some poster board for my science project.”

“Okay. I’ll run to the drugstore after supper.”

“Why can’t we go now?”

Seth liked stopping at the drugstore, where he’d pester her for an ice cream bar—and usually get one.

“Because Mr. Malone is coming home with us.” Another quick glance in the mirror, another sigh. At this distance, Paige couldn’t make out Wyatt’s face, but she recalled every detail from their unexpected meeting in the saloon.

The same startling eyes, not quite blue and not quite gray. Same strong chin, same rugged profile. The same unruly brown hair that looked in need of a cut even when he walked out of the barbershop.

Same wide-shouldered, narrow-hipped build that caused many a woman’s gaze to linger.

The only noticeable difference in Wyatt’s appearance had been his swagger, or lack of it. His trademark walk was now stilted and slower. The result of his fall or something else? Paige wondered.

“Mom! I asked you a question.”

“Sorry, sweetie. I wasn’t listening.”

He pouted, his arms folded defensively across his middle. “Why does he have to come home with us?”

“Mr. Malone is an old friend of mine. We grew up together. Went to school together.”

And had their lives changed in a single instant when his brother Jay drove the car in which they were all riding off the road and into a tree.

“Was he your boyfriend?” Seth asked petulantly.

“Nope. Just pals.”

Paige had wanted more but was too afraid to let Wyatt know her true feelings, worried it would ruin what they had. And in those days, she needed a friend far more than a boyfriend.

“Tell me about the science project,” she prompted, hoping to distract Seth from the topic of Wyatt.

Her plan succeeded. Seth chattered enthusiastically the remainder of the drive home.

Activating the automatic garage door opener, she pulled in beside bicycles, a lawn mower, boxed holiday decorations and an assortment of just plain junk. Wyatt parked in front of the house.

“Am I okay here?” he called upon getting out of his truck.

“Fine for now.”

“Nice place.” He admired the outside of her modest three-bedroom home, then reached into the bed of the truck and removed a scuffed duffel bag.

“It’s a fixer-upper. And, as you can see, I’m still fixing it up.” She hoped he didn’t notice the worn paint and missing roof shingles and instead noticed the young maple trees peeking above the snow and the colorful flower boxes she’d had built last spring.

“It suits you. I like it.”

Paige did, too. She’d bought the house right before Seth started preschool. On her own. With no help other than from the bank. Next to her son, owning a home was her greatest accomplishment.

“Come on in.”

They entered the house from the garage, wiping their boots on the mat first. In the kitchen, Seth flung his backpack onto the table and began unloading books and binders.

“What’s to eat?” He slumped into a chair, his mood an about face from earlier.

“How `bout a cheese crisp?”

“Okay.” He eyed Wyatt glumly.

“You want one, too?” Paige asked.

Wyatt shook his head. “I’m good. Thanks. Though I do like cheese crisps.” He flashed Seth a wide smile.

It wasn’t returned.

Paige silently fretted as she fixed Seth’s snack. He wasn’t usually surly to guests. Granted, none had ever stayed in the motor home before.

“Can I get you a cold drink?” she asked Wyatt.

“I wouldn’t refuse a glass of ice water. Sorry to be such an inconvenience,” he said, taking the glass she’d poured.

“You’re not.”

“Not yet.” He flashed that wide smile at Paige.

She promptly melted. Like always.

Damn.

He wasn’t attracted to her. He was leaving in a week, if not a few days. He had a boatload of emotional baggage. All stellar reasons to avoid Wyatt Malone.

Unlike her son, however, she returned his smile. “I can show you the motor home now.” She glanced over Seth’s shoulder at the math homework spread out before him. He loved science and reading but struggled with numbers. “I won’t be long,” she told him.

His answer was to compress his mouth into a thin, disgruntled line.

“He’s a good kid,” Wyatt said once they outside.

“Most of the time. He’s not used to men coming by. My fault.”

“Your ex-husband isn’t in the picture?”

“We were never married. He left when Seth was three months old. Didn’t like being tied down. At least, that was his excuse.”

She felt Wyatt’s gaze on the back of her neck. If not for the chilly air, her skin would have warmed.

“Here we are,” she announced with exaggerated cheeriness.

The battle-weary Winnebago was hard to miss. It sat in the small backyard like a resting giant.

Paige went first to the side panel, turned on the gas and lit the water heater. Then, she unlocked the door, unfolded the metal steps and climbed inside. The motor home rocked gently when Wyatt ascended the steps after her.

“It’s freezing in here.” She went straight for the small gas furnace mounted in the wall. The stubborn igniter required several attempts before lighting. “There,” she proclaimed with satisfaction and spun around.

Wyatt had placed his duffel bag on the dining table’s bench seat and was watching her every move.

This time, her cheeks did flush.

“The closet’s over there. Here’s the bathroom. The refrigerator. Stove. Pots, pans and plastic cups are in the cupboard.” She gave him a tour of the motor home, standing in one place and pointing. “And you found the table.”

“The bed?” One corner of his mouth curved up.

“Ah…yeah.” She placed a hand on the overhead bunk. “There’s a sleeping bag in the closet if the two quilts aren’t enough.” She tried to step aside so he could view the bunk. “Not much to look at but it’s fairly comfortable.”

“Trust me, I’ve slept in a lot worse places. Being on the road at lot teaches you to appreciate home. Even a motor home.”

“I suppose.”

“Take a lot of trips in this baby?”

“Hardly.” She laughed nervously. “The furthest I’ve ever been is Billings.”

The reminder of his broken promise to take her with him when he left twelve years ago hung in the air between them.

“Then why buy a motor home?”

“Because the Roundup RV Park was where I lived until five years ago.”

“In here? With Seth?”

“We managed all right.” Paige’s chin lifted a notch. She’d done the best she could with what little she had. “Beat the heck out of staying with my mother.”

“How is she?”

“On oxygen and more medications than I can count. She hardly leaves her apartment, which is ironic since she was hardly home while I was growing up. You saw her more than I did.”

Paige’s mother had spent most afternoons and every evening in the Open Range Saloon.

“That’s a shame.” Wyatt’s tone conveyed genuine sympathy.

“The only good thing about it is she’s not here. Not making my life miserable. Not humiliating me by bringing home strange men who’d disappear later, never to be heard from again.”

Paige had loved school. It was her escape. But, oh, how she’d hated mornings and coming face to face with whatever man staggered out of her mother’s bedroom.

“I understand.”

Wyatt did, he wasn’t just offering empty platitudes. Their lousy upbringings and unloving parents—her mother, his father—had bonded them at a young age.

“People—guys—thought I was like my mother. It was rough fending them off. When I met Dan, Seth’s father, I thought things would be different. That he was different. Then I got pregnant, and he left town, pretty much the same way he appeared. Out of the blue. It got really rough after that, especially since I was working for your parents. Barmaids and unwed mothers, it seems, have reputations, deserved or not.”

“I should have taken you with me,” Wyatt said. “I meant to call, as soon as I settled someplace permanent. Only that didn’t happen.”

She nodded, swallowing the bitter lump lodged in her throat.

“Why didn’t you leave on your own?”

“Money. I was barely eighteen and flat broke. Much as I wanted out of the house, I didn’t want to wind up on the streets somewhere. Not too much later your parents hired me at the saloon, and I met Dan. It all worked out.” She mustered a smile. “If I’d left, I might not have Seth, and he means the world to me. Speaking of which, I’d better get in the house and check on the homework situation.”