Falling for the Rebel Cowboy Read online

  “Dad, I just tripped in the mud, and this nice man—”

  “Wyatt Sullivan,” he said, holding a hand out to her father, knowing damn good and well he wouldn’t take it. “Part owner of Sullivan Guest Ranch.”

  Father and daughter glanced at him. “You are?” they asked at the same time.

  He tipped his cowboy hat at her. “Yep.”

  “Anyway, Mr. Sullivan was helping me so I wouldn’t track mud all over the lodge.”

  “Thank you for helping my daughter.” The older man looked calmer but still had a suspicious look on his face. “You don’t look like a luxury-ranch owner. Besides, I met the owner, Angus,” her father said.

  “That’s my dad.” This man didn’t need to know Wyatt’s share wasn’t final yet. He would get it when he could prove to his dad he was home to stay.

  Wentworth ignored him. “Francine, why don’t you get cleaned up. We need you back in the meeting.”

  He looked down at his grandson. “And make sure John Allen doesn’t get dirty, too.” He dialed a number on his cell phone and went back the way he’d come.

  “I’m really sorry, Mr. Sullivan,” she said.

  “Wyatt,” he said, trying to keep his cool as long-forgotten rage bubbled up from his past.

  “Wyatt, I apologize for my father. He can be a bit...” She bit her lip.

  “Bossy?”

  “He is my boss.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “So, here for work, not vacation?”

  “Well, it’s a working retreat for us. Since we’ll be here a couple of weeks, we decided to let everyone bring their families. We try to keep everyone happy.”

  “Where are y’all from?”

  “New York City.”

  He blinked. “Long way to come for meetings.”

  “We have our reasons. Besides...” She gestured at the scenery. “It’s nice to see mountains instead of skyscrapers for a change.” She lifted her wrist and checked her watch. At least that wasn’t ruined. “I need to get cleaned up and back to the conference room. Thanks for your help.”

  “You need any help getting back?”

  “I think we’re fine. Thank you.” She took hold of her son’s hand. “Come on, sweetie.”

  “See ya round, Johnny.”

  The kid beamed, his grin a mile wide. “See ya!”

  Wyatt shook his head. At least the kid wasn’t like Frankie’s old man. Yet.

  “See ya, Frankie,” he called and snickered when she froze, her back going even more rigid than it had been. What was it about this woman that made him want to razz her? Was it that she seemed to take herself just a bit too seriously? He wanted to make her smile. Johnny said something to her as the two continued up the path, and she laughed, then they disappeared through the front door of the lodge.

  He looked around at the buildings glowing in the late-afternoon sun. His dad and Kade had expanded the lodge while he’d been away, and the main building was at least five times bigger now. Even not knowing anything about architecture, he could tell Kade had designed it specifically for rich people. Like Ms. Francine Wentworth and her bossy father.

  It wasn’t exactly home anymore, with all the new guest cabins, outbuildings and bigger barns, but at least each structure was designed to blend in with the natural beauty of Montana. But he still missed the old days when it had been a small dude ranch and they had regular people come out for vacation, to learn the old ways of ranching.

  Yeah, they still did cattle ranching now, and trail rides, chuck wagon dinners out in the meadows, but now instead of just families, big groups would come out for working retreats. Kade and Pop had been talking about adding spa services. This was Montana. People should come here to enjoy the land, the wildlife, the wide-open spaces.

  Not for fancy treatments and crap.

  Which made him think of Frankie and her hot-pink-polished toes and those long legs, a forbidden temptation.

  No sense thinking about her. She’d drop him faster than a bronc busts a greenhorn once she found out about his past.

  Chapter Two

  Wyatt strode to the equipment barn, heels pounding like a hammer setting stakes in the ground. His dog trotted next to him and woofed. He slowed down so Sadie wasn’t exerting herself in her pregnant condition.

  It was a pretty day, with the sun shining, birds singing, a crisp autumn breeze lifting the hair off his neck. Yet he was too pissed to enjoy it. His lesson that morning hadn’t gone well. He was finally doing something about getting his diploma, but how could he succeed when he had trouble comprehending what his tutor was teaching him?

  He felt stupid.

  He hated feeling stupid.

  Damn learning problems.

  And after that, the long email his dad had sent listing chores, talking about Wyatt’s place on the ranch, had made him so mad the letters got all jumbled up when he’d tried to read it. He knew he had to wait till he calmed down to revisit it.

  He huffed out a breath. After nine months of hard work, his dad still didn’t trust him. He’d never get the foreman job he was hoping for.

  Maybe if he was more like Kade. His second-oldest brother got along with their dad best—he was ranch manager and damn good at it. Luke, a year younger than Wyatt, did his part as the ranch veterinarian. Then there was Hunter, his youngest brother. Charmer, jokester and the glue that held everyone together. He’d missed them all while he was gone, was still trying to find his place now that he was back. He’d hoped the foreman job opening up would be it. He genuinely wanted it, and it’d prove to his family he was here to stay.

  But his dad wasn’t giving him a fair chance—he looked at Wyatt and saw a screwup. Acting out as a teen was one thing, but Wyatt hated thinking about his time in Texas. What had happened down there had been out of his control—his family knew it—but it didn’t erase the mark that dark period had left on him, or the way his dad looked at him now. “Why’d I bother to come back here?” he muttered.

  “’Cause it’s your home,” Nash said.

  Wyatt glanced around at his oldest brother, ready to let loose with a blast of cusswords, but saw Nash’s six-year-old stepdaughter, Maddy, standing next to him. She beamed at him and threw her arms up for a hug. “Good mornin’, Uncle Wyatt.”

  Wyatt picked her up, and she smacked his cheek with a kiss. “Morning, sunshine,” he said and ruffled her long dark curls. “How you doin’?” He’d never been one for kids, but he’d grown to love this little girl who shared her heart with everyone.

  “Good,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him her one-of-a-kind hug. He had to admit it was nice having a niece to spoil along with his four nephews.

  “Where’s Kelsey?”

  “I got her to go back to bed. Morning sickness hit hard today,” Nash said.

  “Does she need a doctor?”

  “She says it’s normal,” Nash said, but damn if his voice didn’t waver a bit, and he looked a little queasy himself.

  His brother had been injured and angry at the world when he got home from Afghanistan. Kelsey was the best thing that could have happened to him, and he’d fallen hard and fast for her. Now they ran a therapy program for veterans, and Nash was responsible for the horses on the ranch.

  “So what’s wrong?” Nash asked.

  “For some reason, Pop doesn’t think I know what needs to be done around here. He keeps sending emails and texts for chores that I’m already working on or planning to do. It’s like I didn’t grow up on a ranch with the rest of you.” He handed Maddy to Nash.

  “Need some help?”

  “Nah. I’ll just keep plugging away at it,” he said, his lip curling. “Well, see y’all later. Need to get to work.” Wyatt yanked open the sliding door of the equipment barn, and metal screeched. One more thing to tack on to his growing to-do list.

  He sl
apped the wall and ran his hand up the row of switches, turning the lights on and banishing the shadows cast by the ancient tractor. The smell of oil and gasoline mixed with sawdust and wood permeated the air. It was familiar, comforting to him in many ways. Each barn had its own smell depending on what it was used for. And he loved them all.

  He shucked his denim jacket and hung it on a peg by the door, then strapped on his tool belt. As he crossed the floor to the tractor, the tools clinked and jangled with every step, creating a beat in his head. He cocked his head, listening as he walked, already committing it to memory until he could get his hands on his guitar.

  Sadie walked to the side of the barn where he’d set up a bed for her. She stepped onto the pad, turned around three times, then plopped down, sighing as if she’d just run a marathon with a pack of wolves. He watched her for a few minutes, made sure she was okay. He’d found her wandering one of the meadows a while back, and when no one claimed her, decided to keep her. She made a great roommate, but now their little family would be growing when she gave birth.

  He turned his attention to the first item on the list. Another tractor with a problem. This one was older than the one he’d fixed the day before. He started taking the tractor’s engine apart, piece by prehistoric piece, convinced there were still more years left in her. He refused to let anyone haul it off to the junkyard. One of the bolts proved stubborn, and he grabbed his hammer and banged on it, letting loose a stream of profanities.

  “Hey, mister! What’s that mean?”

  The kid’s voice startled him, and he pounded his thumb instead of the bolt. He jerked around, sticking the tenderized thumb in his mouth, and saw Frankie’s kid.

  “Hey, Johnny,” he mumbled around his stinging thumb.

  “You okay, mister? I didn’t mean it,” Johnny said, hanging his head.

  “Not your fault, kid. My fault for getting mad at the da—dang-blasted tractor.”

  His thumb finally stopped throbbing, and he stuck the hammer back in his tool belt, then looked around for Frankie. “Is your mom with you?”

  Johnny shook his head. “She’s working.”

  Great, a kid wandering around a big ranch alone? Not good. “Isn’t someone watching you?”

  “No, sir. I was at day care. I’m bored. Can I help?”

  Wyatt shook his head, knowing the child-care worker at the lodge would be frantic trying to find him. The kid was a hoot—four years old, he guessed, going on forty, with proper grammar, pressed clothes and everything. Wyatt’s mom would have called the kid an old soul.

  Which was a shame.

  “How about I take you back up there? You don’t want to miss out on any fun, do you?”

  The kid looked up at him, his eyes a piercing blue. “I want to stay here.” He scuffed his shoe—a loafer, for Pete’s sake—at something invisible on the barn floor.

  Wyatt bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to laugh even as he felt sorry for the kid. Way too young to already be like a little old man.

  Sadie woofed, and Johnny looked at her. “You got a dog?” he asked, already racing over to her side. He stopped short, then reached a little hand out for her to sniff. Sadie looked up at the boy, and Wyatt could have sworn she smiled.

  “Mister, can I pet her?”

  “Sure. Her name’s Sadie.”

  Johnny crouched down next to her and patted her head. “I love dogs.”

  “You and your mom have a dog?”

  Johnny shook his head, his chin wobbling. “No. We can’t have one.”

  Poor kid. “Come on, let’s get you back to the lodge before they call out the big guns.” He walked to the door and waited while Johnny said goodbye to Sadie.

  The boy patted Sadie one last time and walked to the door, dragging his feet and looking as if Santa and the Easter Bunny had just crossed him off their nice lists.

  Wyatt squashed the guilty feelings down deep. Sure, he had nephews and a niece, but what did he really know about kids? The boys had been born while he’d been gone, so he was still trying to get to know them.

  But a guest’s kid? Not his pint of beer.

  They reached the lodge and Wyatt took him inside to the day care, made sure Mrs. Dailey had him in hand, then retraced his path to the barn.

  As he walked inside, he checked on Sadie, and damned if she didn’t look like she was frowning at him.

  Grabbing the wrench off the seat, he went back to working on the tractor in peace. He settled back in to work, losing himself in the task of stripping the engine bare to find the source of the problem.

  Sometime later he surfaced as a scuff quietly echoed, the noise sending goose bumps prickling along his back. The sound transported him back to a time when he’d been helpless, no defense other than his fists against men bigger than him.

  He gripped the wrench tighter and casually reached for the hammer with his free hand. No one would ever take him by surprise again.

  He jerked around, weapons raised, scanning for the intruder. His eyes searched the shadows until Sadie gave a soft woof, and he moved enough to see her and Johnny staring at him. How had the kid made it all the way inside the barn making so little sound?

  “What are you doing back here?”

  “I dunno,” Johnny said, his arms going around Sadie’s neck.

  “You can’t keep running off like that, kid. Mrs. Dailey will get upset, and your mom...well, let’s just say I don’t want to see her bad side.”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind,” Wyatt said, setting the tools down on the wheel of the tractor and pulling his phone out of his pocket. He dialed the day care lady and asked for Frankie’s—Francine’s, he corrected—phone number.

  Entering the number on his phone, he texted her to say Johnny was down at the barn, and wouldn’t stay in day care.

  A few minutes later, he received a text that she’d be right there. Not more than five minutes later, she came running into the barn, once again wearing fancy shoes. On a ranch.

  “John Allen Wentworth. Why did you leave the day care?”

  “I don’t like it there.”

  “Are the other kids mean to you?” He hadn’t thought about that being the cause of Johnny not wanting to stay put.

  The kid shook his head. “I want to stay here. With Sadie.” He buried his face in the dog’s shoulder.

  Francine turned to Wyatt. “I don’t understand why he’s doing this. I’m sorry.”

  Wyatt studied Johnny. “Maybe he just doesn’t like people? I can take ’em or leave ’em sometimes myself.”

  She stepped closer to him. “He’s really shy. But he’s never disobeyed me like this before. I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry he’s getting in your way.”

  “You okay if he stays here with me?” His words surprised himself. Surprised Miss New York as well, if the look on her face was right.

  “I don’t want to burden you.”

  He thought about it. “I’m just working on the tractor today.” The kid needed to have some fun, and if he was going to keep wandering around, at least Johnny could hang around the barn so Wyatt could keep an eye on him.

  She hesitated.

  “Look, I know you don’t know me—”

  She shook her head. “That’s not it. If you’re sure you don’t mind. I’ll be down to pick him up as soon as the meeting is over later today. You’ve got my phone number, right?”

  He nodded.

  “I really appreciate it.” She looked at her watch. “I need to get back. John Allen, you can stay here, but you mind Mr. Sullivan, okay? You do what he says and don’t go anywhere, you hear me?” She kissed the top of her son’s head.

  The kid bounced up and down. “I’ll be good. Promise!” He raced back to Sadie and sat down next to her.

  “Thank you, Mr. Sullivan. I appreciate it.”

  “Wyat
t.”

  Her nose crinkled. “What?”

  “I’m Wyatt, Miz Wentworth.”

  “Oh, yes. Call me Francine. Thanks again. I’ll see you later.”

  Wyatt watched her hurry up the path to the lodge until she disappeared through the doors. Must be hard for her to raise a child on her own and have to work. Kade had been doing it, but at least they lived here at the ranch, with plenty of family around to help out when he needed it.

  He got back to work on the tractor but checked on Johnny every few minutes.

  “Mister, how come you’re taking that apart?”

  Johnny’s words startled him, and he looked down at the kid staring up at him. “It stopped working.”

  “You know how to fix stuff?”

  Wyatt nodded. He might not be good with reading, but he’d always had a knack for anything mechanical.

  “Will you teach me?”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?” Johnny shrugged.

  “You got any old clothes you can change into?”

  Johnny shook his head.

  “Any play clothes that can get dirty, and your mom won’t care?”

  “Play clothes?”

  What was with Francine, that the kid didn’t have something to play in, to be a little boy in? Her suit yesterday probably cost more than three months’ pay, but her boy didn’t have jeans and a T-shirt? Surely he didn’t wear pressed clothes and dress shoes every day?

  “How old are you?”

  Johnny held up four fingers.

  Wyatt pulled his phone out again and called Kade. “You still have any of Toby’s old clothes from when he was about four?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Why?”

  “Got someone here who needs to borrow them.”

  “No problem. They’re in the spare room at my place. Help yourself.”

  Wyatt pressed the end call button. “Okay, kid. Let’s go. I think we can find something for you to wear.”

  Kade’s cabin was closest to the lodge and outbuildings, and it wasn’t too cold out, so Wyatt bundled Johnny into his own denim jacket and rolled the sleeves up, then they set off walking the short distance.