A Family In Wyoming

The man on the other side of the breakfast bar gazed at her for a long moment. Then he chuckled. “Of course he did. It’s a great idea.” He offered a handshake. “Welcome to the staff at the Circle M. Wyatt is the main one you’ll be making breakfast for, besides yourself and Amber. Occasionally I’ll need something, too, and maybe Dylan, those mornings after he stays up late working on his sculpture. The camp kids do most of their own cooking, so Ford, Caroline and I try to show up for their meals as a gesture of support. I expect to lose a good ten pounds this summer, when all is said and done.”

She laughed with him. “I’ll have a supply of cookies on hand, to keep your strength up.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise.”

By six thirty, she’d explored all the cabinets and the refrigerator, started a pan of biscuits baking and arranged a place setting at the breakfast bar, where Garrett said Wyatt preferred to stand and eat. When she heard new steps coming down the hallway, she quickly poured a big cup of coffee and turned just in time to see Wyatt enter the kitchen. Wearing a wrinkled T-shirt and sweat pants, with his hair uncombed and his puffy-eyed face unshaven, he reminded her of a bear just coming out of hibernation.

She couldn’t help smiling at him. “Good morning! Here’s your coffee. How do you like your eggs?”

“Damnation,” he growled, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds. When he opened them again, he was scowling. “I’d forgotten you were here.”

So much for the first day of her new life!

Chapter Two (#u6d3d95ba-3ebe-56d7-b4d2-d2411032e6ae)

July

“Will you play with me?” a little voice asked. “Please?”

Honey, dozing on the floor beside the desk, raised her head at the intrusion. Wyatt started to glance over his shoulder, but a stab of pain in his back stopped him. With an irritated snort, he swiveled his chair away from the computer instead.

But his bedroom seemed to be empty. “Who’s there?”

The five-year-old peeked around the corner of his dresser. “Me.” She eyed him nervously. “Amber.”

Not wanting her to be afraid of him, he kept his tone gentle. “Why are you hiding, Me Amber?”

She glanced behind her. “My mommy said not to bother you,” she said at a lower volume.

He smothered a smile. “So why did you?”

“’Cause I want to play Candyland.” Coming out from behind the dresser, she displayed the game box she was holding. In a bright yellow T-shirt, green shorts and green sneakers, she reminded him of a cheerful dandelion. “And you can’t play by yourself.”

Wyatt remembered playing the game with Dylan when his brother was about this age. “Did you ask your mom to play with you?”

Her golden curls bounced as she nodded. “She has to dust the bookshelves. And wash the windows. And sweep the fireplace.”

“That’s a lot to do.” In the short time she’d been there, Susannah Bradley had systematically overhauled the place, room by room. He scarcely saw her during the day, she stayed so busy. And the house had never been so clean, so easy to live in. The meals she prepared tempted him as food hadn’t in years. On her breakfasts alone, he’d have been well fueled for a full day’s work...if he wasn’t stuck in the house with nothing to occupy him but wrangling numbers.

The least he could do was give her daughter a few minutes of his time. “Sure. I’ll play with you. Come on in.”

He rolled his chair over to the bed and they set up the board on the mattress, which Susannah made up for him in the mornings while he ate breakfast—an image he tried to avoid when he went to lie down at night. The image of her graceful hands smoothing his sheets did nothing to foster a good night’s sleep.

“Now, this is how you play,” Amber said, explaining the rules as she shuffled the cards with an endearing clumsiness. She was very serious about the process, frowning as she moved her piece from square to square, instructing him on the meaning of each card he drew. Even though he knew next to nothing about little girls, he felt he had the situation under control.

Until she landed on a licorice square. “No!” She bounced on the bed, upsetting the playing pieces and scattering the cards. “I don’t want to lose my turn!”

He made the mistake of arguing. “That’s the way you said the game works.”

“But you’ll get ahead of me,” she wailed. “It’s not fair!”

In the next moment, Susannah’s voice came down the hallway. “Amber? Amber, where are you?” Then she stood at his door. “What in the world...?”

Getting to his feet, Wyatt cleared his throat. “We’re...uh...playing Candyland.”

Standing by the bed, she crossed her arms and glared at her daughter. “What did I tell you?”

Staring at her hands, Amber hunched her shoulders. “Not to bother him.” Then she looked up. “But he wanted to play. Didn’t you?” Wide blue eyes, still wet with tears, begged for his support.

“I did.” He caught Susannah’s gaze. “It’s okay. Really. I’ve got nothing but time.”

“You’re very generous.” Taking a deep breath, she let her arms relax. But a faint flush on her cheeks revealed that she was still upset. “You don’t have to be a babysitter. It’s not part of the arrangement.”

“I’m not a babysitter,” he shot back. Then he softened his tone. “I’m a friend. Amber’s friend. And yours.”

Her shoulders slumped slightly. “I know. I just...hate taking advantage. We owe you and your brothers so much already.” Even though she must have been working hard, she seemed neat and fresh, her sleeveless blue shirt and khaki shorts as crisp as when he’d first seen her early this morning.

“You’re helping us out.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “And we’re grateful.”

She started under his touch. Her gaze flashed to his face and then away.

Wyatt withdrew his hand quickly, silently cursing himself. Like a mistreated horse, a woman who’d been abused would naturally be shy of men. How had he let himself forget?

“We’re doing fine in here,” he said then, jaw tense, fingers shoved into the pockets of his jeans. “Don’t worry.”

Stepping to the side of the bed, Susannah pointed a finger at her daughter. “No more tantrums over the game, Amber. You’re a big girl and you know you have to play by the rules. Nathan taught you. Remember?”

“I ’member. I’ll be good.” She beamed an angelic smile. “Can we start over? I messed up the board.”

Wyatt frowned at her. “I think I’ve been conned. But, yeah, we can start over.”

He only wondered if he would have to do the same with her mother.

* * *

SUSANNAH WENT TO the kitchen and poured herself some coffee, cradling the mug with both hands to hold it steady.

Wyatt had touched her. And she’d jumped, like a nervous teenager. How stupid could she be?

She didn’t believe for a second that he would hurt her. That wasn’t the problem. But her own response had shocked her—an immediate urge to lean into his hand, to savor the warmth of his palm, the strength of his fingers.

Where had that come from?

The sound of footsteps heralded Caroline’s arrival in the kitchen. “Good afternoon! I see you have a formidable project underway in the living room.”

“I noticed the books needed dusting.” Susannah gathered her scattered thoughts. “I’ll have everything restored to order by dinnertime.”

“I’m impressed that you decided to tackle it at all. There’s no telling when—if ever—that chore was last attempted.” Dark haired and petite, wearing jeans and a green T-shirt, boots and a white hat, she epitomized the perfect cowgirl. “I left Dylan and Garrett watching the kids jog their horses around the corral. I’m dying for some coffee to keep me awake.” Pouring a cup, she sent Susannah a conspiratorial wink. “Too many late nights spent on the phone with Ford in San Francisco.”