Falling For The Rebel Cowboy

Her father slowly put his mobile back into his pocket. “I don’t want this to happen again. He’s my grandson and I’m making sure he’s on the right path for success.” He turned to her, and it took everything she had to keep her back straight. “Francine, take him up to the lodge and get him cleaned up. I want to debrief on this last meeting before dinner.” He turned on his heel and strode back up the path to the main lodge.

Dreading it, but knowing she had to get it over with, she turned to Wyatt. He’d knelt down and was consoling her son, something she should be doing. John Allen threw his arms around Wyatt’s neck and squeezed. Since he was facing her, the shocked look on Wyatt’s face surprised her, but it was soon followed by sweet tenderness as he hugged her baby back.

“I’m so sorry, Wyatt. He didn’t mean what he said.”

“Oh, I’ll bet he did,” Wyatt said, standing up. His face was devoid of any expression, and she never wanted to play poker with him...not that she even knew how.

“I am sorry,” she said and took John Allen’s hand. Words could hurt, and her father was a master at wielding them like a sword, both in the boardroom and out. “Thank you for watching him today.” She took her son’s hand and led him to the path that would take them to the lodge.

“My pleasure. Anytime,” came the low response. When she glanced back, Wyatt was already walking away.

Chapter Three (#u1cc44118-6485-5bad-9ad2-b7d83c7c4295)

Francine rubbed her temples, willing away the headache she’d woken up with. She glanced around the table at her coworkers, noticing the tension and stress clearly marked on everyone’s faces. The merger was stalled, and at this point, for every step forward, they slid back three.

At the first lull in a heated conversation, she spoke up. “I think we all need to take a break.”

Her dad glanced up, opened his mouth, then looked around the table and snapped it shut. “She’s right. Take a break and come back in—” he slid his cuff up enough to see his watch “—two hours.”

Sighs of relief sounded as everyone jumped up and headed for the door.

Francine stood up and stretched, grimacing at the stiffness in her back and neck. She sent a quick text to Mrs. Dailey to make sure John Allen had stayed put in day care that morning. The woman answered that he was still there, no problems. Francine breathed a sigh of relief, then crossed the room to the coffeepot, pouring yet another cup of caffeine to keep her going the rest of the day.

A movement outside the window caught her eye, and she looked out. A big truck sat in front of one of the barns, and a man stood in the back, unloading bales of hay. He’d lift a bale, then chuck it in front of the barn, where three other men hauled them inside.

Just as she took a sip of coffee, the man outside turned slightly, and she realized it was Wyatt.

Even as she watched, he grabbed a rag out of his back pocket and wiped his face, shoved it back in and grabbed up another bale of hay. His biceps flexed with each movement, and even being a city girl, she knew those bales had to weigh a lot. Yet he made it look effortless, his movements streamlined and graceful.

The weather was cool, yet he’d still sweat through his T-shirt, which now hugged his back.

It was almost hypnotic watching him, and she found herself relaxing for the first time in days.

A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped, sloshing coffee on the credenza. She grabbed several napkins and mopped it up.

“Didn’t mean to scare you. I called your name three times and you never heard me. What are you looking at?” Her dad glanced out the window.

“Nothing. Just thinking about the meeting—”

He frowned. “You were watching that Sullivan boy, weren’t you.”

She laughed. “Dad, he’s hardly a boy.”

“I get it. You’re a beautiful single woman, and he’s a relatively—well, a decent-looking man.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, something he did when uncomfortable.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

He looked at her, his mouth turned down in a frown. “I’m just saying, if you’re going to have a—a—an encounter—”

“Dad!” Her stomach did flip-flops, and heat bloomed up her chest to explode in her cheeks.

He held a hand up to stop her words. “I don’t think he’s the right type of man for you—in fact, I’m sure he’s been a lot of fathers’ worst nightmare.”

“You don’t know that, or anything about him—”

“You’ve been pretty quick to defend him. I’m just saying, you need to be more discreet.” He became more stern, pointedly saying, “That means no ogling the ranch hands. We have a great deal riding on this merger, and I don’t want any distractions or gossip.”

As if she didn’t know that. She was on track to be CEO one day—if anyone knew focus, it was her. And if she had imagined doing something with Wyatt—in the dark of night—the last thing she wanted was to discuss it with her father.

“I know what’s at stake. I’m not planning on doing anything—”

“Good,” her father said. Glancing away, he added, “I just don’t want you hurt again...once is enough, trust me.”

Her dad was a blunt man, but his words softened her. He’d been through a divorce when her mother left them. Over two years ago, she’d followed in his footsteps with one of her own. “Dad, I’m sorry.” She slipped her arm through his and laid her head on his shoulder.

“It was a long time ago. You were too young to see it, but your mother and I were never happy together.”

“We’ve never really talked about it. I know you’ve seen a few women over the years, but do you regret never marrying again?”

“No, I don’t.” He squeezed her hand. “Besides, even if your mother and I didn’t get along, at least she gave me you. And I’m very happy about that.”

She smiled. “Me, too, Dad. We make a pretty good team at Wentworth’s, don’t we?”

“No one I’d rather have more at my side.”

“I learned from the best,” she said. It was true. Her dad could be tough, but he’d trained her from a young age to be a sharp-minded businesswoman. Oh, she’d worked hard to earn it, but she counted her blessings to be highly placed in a Fortune 500 company. It was where she and her dad connected, especially after her mother left—he’d always been there for her.

“I’ll be back in a little while,” her dad said. “You should go out, get some fresh air.” He stopped at the door and looked back at her. “I love you, Francine. You’re one hell of a businesswoman. All I ask is that you don’t make a mistake you’ll regret, for yourself or my grandson.”

She nodded. Glancing out the window again, she noticed they had finished unloading the hay from the truck. The three men who’d been helping Wyatt stood around a cooler, drinking water and laughing at something. Wyatt was off by himself, staring out at the lake.

She and Wyatt hadn’t talked much, but she could sense he usually kept to himself. John Allen had certainly taken to him quickly, and he rarely liked strangers. She’d sensed a reserve about Wyatt, much like her son’s, around other people, as if he was hesitant to let himself get close to anyone.

That was probably why her son had bonded with him—and it was also a reason to stay away.

Chapter Four (#u1cc44118-6485-5bad-9ad2-b7d83c7c4295)

Early the next morning, Francine made sure her son was at the day care, under strict orders not to leave. Her father was on a conference call to Germany when she left the lodge. She walked down the front steps, and a little pink sports car caught her attention as it sped down the road leading out of the property. Cute car.

Her mission of the morning was to find a way into town and buy her son some play clothes. Her dad had complained the evening before about her son wearing someone else’s old worn-out clothes, even if it was just temporary. She felt a little guilty, escaping on her own, but she really needed it. Besides, it’d be fun to surprise John Allen with a cowboy hat.

“Need some help, ma’am?” Wyatt drawled from behind her.

She turned around, and he stood there, looking so much like every bad boy her father had warned her away from. Black cowboy hat, black T-shirt, denim jacket, dark hair just a bit too long, a scar slashing white on his chin—she hadn’t noticed it before. His blond Labrador stood at his side staring up at her with deep brown eyes, so maybe Wyatt wasn’t all bad. A country song about a man and his dog came to mind.

“As a matter of fact, I do. Does Uber come out here? I can’t seem to find any drivers on the app.”

His quirked eyebrow made her feel stupid.