Cowboy For Keeps

A month ago he’d had the world by its tail. He’d had everything in control. He’d managed to match his younger brothers up with good wives and he’d been able to rest easy that he’d done his parents proud in his family responsibilities. His brothers were happy and that had made him happy. But then he’d crashed his plane and turned his world upside down. The stupidity of his actions ate at him as much as the consequences did.

Looking at him with the patience of Job, his middle brother, Seth, spoke up. “We aren’t so sure your mind is working. The fun-loving brother we know and enjoy is sitting in this dark house looking like he hasn’t showered in days.”

“Seth—” Wyatt bit the word out but Cole, his youngest brother, butted in.

“We love you, bro, and you know you have to snap out of this. You’re not going to be in that chair for long.”

“Look, you two, go to work and leave me alone. I’m not joking.” He had lost his sense of humor three weeks ago.

Cole held up his hands and gave a lopsided grin that usually made anyone and everyone smile along with him. “We’re goin’,” he said. “No call to get so riled up. That temper’s one of the reasons we’re worried about you.”

Wyatt hiked a brow as a shooting pain ripped through his left hip and tore through his lower spine. He gripped the arm of the wheelchair with his hands and willed his expression to remain pain-free. “I’m only skimming the surface here,” he said, trying not to clench his teeth. “You need to stop worrying about me. I’m an adult.” Who’d made a bad error in judgment.

“Cole, let’s give him some space.” Seth headed toward the door. “But Wyatt, whatever you do, don’t run Amanda Hathaway off. Yes, you want to be alone, but remember you need her. And the agency said she was the perfect person for the job.”

“Yeah, so give her a chance,” Cole drawled. “Don’t forget Mule Hollow is a long way from the nearest rehab center. It wasn’t easy to find a physical therapist willing to come all the way out here to live for three months.”

“And you can’t do therapy on your own,” Seth added somberly. “Not this time. Not even you, Wyatt.”

He got that loud and clear.

“As stubborn as you are,” Cole prompted when Wyatt remained silent, “and as driven, there is no doubt in our minds that you’ll be back up globe-trotting in record time. With the right physical therapy program. So stop worrying—and we know you are. You can’t hide it from us. Just like you can’t hide the fact that you’re in a heap of pain right now.”

“I’m fine,” Wyatt snapped as his gut tightened at the denial as the spasm began to ease up a bit. They came and went at their leisure and he’d begun to wonder if this was what a woman felt like when she went into labor…if so, it was a miracle there were children born.

“Look,” he said. “I don’t need you two knuckleheads trying to run my life—”

“Oh, man, you did not just say that!” Cole hooted, his eyes dancing as he stared at Wyatt in disbelief.

“You, the master of interference—”

“Not that the two of us are complaining,” Seth interjected with a grin. “You found us both our wives and we are eternally grateful. But you aren’t yourself these days, Wyatt. Not since the accident. We’ve got to help you get out of this funk you’re in from being out of control of everything.”

Seth’s somber, determined gaze locked with Wyatt’s. He knew Seth couldn’t be budged when he had that look—it was chock-full of Turner stubbornness. It was true he was in a “funk,” but it was only to be expected. He was letting down his clients and his firm because he’d been careless…and careless was unacceptable in his book.

“I should have gone back to Dallas so y’all wouldn’t worry—”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Seth countered emphatically. “We love you and want what’s best for you. Therapy out here on the land you love is the best way to get you healed up.”

“That’s all we care about,” Cole added, all laughter and teasing gone. That in itself told Wyatt how concerned they were for him. “You just need someone to help you get the full range of movement back into that hip and arm. Then you’ll be your old overachieving self again. If it were either one of us in your position, this is what you’d be doing for us and you know it.”

It was true. He’d have meddled in their lives until he got what was best for them. “I’ll be fine,” he grunted, not liking losing control of his life like he had. It was not a feeling he’d ever experienced before, and he wasn’t dealing well.

“Yeah, you will be after the PT arrives. Now we’ll go to work.” Seth walked out the door.

Cole sauntered after him, but stopped in the doorway. “Hang tough, big bro.”

Through the window, Wyatt watched them leave. Their boots thumped loudly as they hurried across the rough wooden porch and down the two steps to the old stone sidewalk that led to where they’d parked the ranch truck earlier. He reminded himself that his little brothers were only looking out for him because they loved him. Still, having the control taken away from him fisted him up inside. Giving control of his life over to anyone wasn’t something he did…but it seemed he had no choice. If he wanted his life back he was going to have to trust this Amanda Hathaway.

Seth and Cole wouldn’t have hired someone who wasn’t capable, he assured himself an hour later as a red SUV pulled over the cattle guard.

Feeling suffocated inside, he’d moved his wheelchair out onto the porch. He waited as a woman got out of the vehicle. She was young, about twenty. No, she’d have to be around twenty-four or-five to have a degree in physical therapy and have any kind of experience at all. They’d said she was good at her job…hard to believe if she was as young as he suspected.

She seemed ill at ease as she tucked a strand of fine brown hair behind her ear and looked his way. Being ill at ease didn’t give him any more confidence in her than her young age.

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed as she walked up the path. Surely this wasn’t the woman he was supposed to put his confidence in? If he was going to have someone living on the premises for the next two or three months, invading his privacy and telling him what to do, he expected someone who looked as if they could do the job they were hired to do. His ire escalated with each step she took toward him.

She was medium height with a slight build—no way could she help him get in and out of the wheelchair. She came to a halt at the foot of the steps. Up close it was worse. She had the fresh face of a kid, made more so by the splash of freckles and large doe eyes that looked up at him with what he could only call fear. Seth and Cole were dead meat!

“Who are you?” he demanded before she had time to say anything.

“I—well, I’m Amanda. Amanda Hathaway.”

This was a joke. It had to be. He was notorious for pulling jokes on his brothers. This would be just like the two of them to get him back for stunts he’d pulled. But he knew it wasn’t true. Even they wouldn’t pull a stunt like this now.

Nope. This was the woman he was supposed to give control over to—the woman he was supposed to trust with his future.

He didn’t think so.

Despite what his little brothers thought, he could still make decisions on his own and that started with telling Amanda Hathaway she wasn’t staying.

Chapter Two

Wyatt Turner didn’t look right in the wheelchair.

It was the first thought that had hit Amanda when she’d spotted him sitting on the porch. Her confidence had faltered as she’d driven the three hours to Mule Hollow—not surprising since she hadn’t been feeling like herself. Seeing Mr. Turner did nothing to help matters.

He was an extremely physically fit man with a broad chest and the lean build of someone used to working out. A man who took care of himself—though she’d already assumed that about him. Joyce had said he was a high achiever, driven to be the best. If that was true, keeping physically fit would fit the profile.

He was handsome—or would be if he didn’t look so angry. He had black, wavy hair and bold features including a strong jaw, which at the moment was dark with a five o’clock shadow. It wasn’t, however, his look and build that had her smoothing her hand across her flyaway brown hair in a display of nerves. No, it was his eyes. Hard, intense cobalt-blue, they narrowed and grew cold as they studied her. These were the all-seeing eyes of a man who read people for a living.

He probably hid his thoughts well. He looked as if he only let a person, or a jury, see what he chose to let them see.

Amanda stilled her nerves. She didn’t have to look close to see he was not happy to be in a wheelchair. He was probably not used to needing someone else.

Despite her resolve that she could handle this job, Amanda’s heart fluttered with worry and she wondered if she’d made a mistake in coming.

No mistake.

This man’s intensity might serve to be her saving grace. If he was as demanding as she assumed he would be, that meant all her time would be consumed.

And all-consuming was exactly what she needed right now.

“I’m sorry I’m running a bit late. I’d hoped to be here before lunch but traffic on I-35 was killer.”

“How old are you?”

His question caught her off guard, halting her rambling. “I’m twenty-four.”