The Tycoon's Son

Vicki looked skeptically at him. “How did you manage that?”

“Mrs. Winters had some kind of emergency and had to leave, so my last class was just a study hall. I did everything then.” Richie turned toward the door. “So, I’m going to ride on the trail in the hills.”

“Okay, but be sure you’re back in two hours.” She called after him as he ran out the door, “You stay away from Mrs. Thackery’s house. I don’t want her complaining to me again.”

Wyatt had tried to force himself to work all afternoon, but he could not concentrate on anything other than the feel of having Vicki in his arms once again. It had been an impulsive gesture, one that he should not have given in to. She’d had him wrapped around her little finger once before, then walked out on him. The last thing he needed was for her to realize how easy it would be for her to accomplish it again. He did not want her to see the extremely vulnerable spot that still existed inside him where Victoria Dalton Bingham was concerned.

He finally gave up trying to work, left the house and strolled down the path toward the stables. Maybe a hard ride through the hills would settle the nervous tension churning inside him.

Fred Olson looked up from his desk when Wyatt entered the tack room, a quizzical expression covering his face. “Afternoon, Wyatt. Somethin’ I can do for ya?”

“Didn’t mean to interrupt you, Fred. I thought I’d take one of the horses out for a ride.”

“Need any help saddlin’ up?”

“I can handle it, thanks.” Wyatt grabbed a saddle, blanket and bridle and left the tack room.

It was just the type of afternoon for a brisk ride. The sky was blue, the sun just warm enough to take the coolness from the air without removing the crispness. He urged his horse into a trot as he cut across a field toward the stand of trees that marked the edge of the old trail he had enjoyed so much as a young man. Just as he emerged from the trees to join the trail, something flashed around a corner, startling his horse.

The animal reared, throwing Wyatt off his back, and the dirt bike and its rider skidded into a ditch. A moment later a teenage boy ran toward Wyatt as he lay on the ground.

“Are you okay, mister?”

Wyatt slowly got to his feet, testing his left leg before putting his full weight on it. He brushed the dirt from his jeans. “Yes, I seem to be all right. How about you?”

“Yeah.” The teenager glanced back over his shoulder. “But I don’t know about my bike.”

Wyatt grabbed the reins of his horse, then walked toward the ditch. “Well, let’s take a look at it and see. ”

The boy set the bike upright and Wyatt bent down to check the frame and wheels. A couple of minutes later he stood up. “It seems to be okay, except for some scratches in the paint. Hop on it and see if it rides the way it should.”

Wyatt watched as the young man rode about fifty feet down the trail and then back again. “How does it handle?”

“Handles okay,” the boy replied.

“You do know you’re trespassing on private property—” he saw the objection form on the boy’s face and his posture take on a defensive stance “—although the signs seem to have disappeared and I saw where the fence needs replacing.”

He scrutinized the teenage boy for a moment. “So, what are you doing out here zipping around a horse trail on a dirt bike? Do you live somewhere nearby?” he asked, neither angry nor accusatory, merely curious.

“Yeah, I live in town. Me and my friend Tim were riding on this trail the other day. I didn’t know this was someone’s property. I guess Tim didn’t know it either.”

Wyatt placed his foot in the stirrup and swung up on his horse. He looked down at the teenage boy, taking a moment to study him before speaking. “Try to be more careful from now on, okay?”

“Sure thing, mister.” The boy got back on his bike and rode in the direction of town.

Wyatt watched as the boy disappeared around the curve in the trail. Something about him touched Wyatt, something that seemed familiar, but he did not know what it was or why. The disturbing feeling continued to nag at him as he rode back to his house.

Richie arrived home just as Vicki returned from work. He did not move fast enough to hide the results of his mischief from her scrutiny.

“What happened here, Richie? How did you rip your shirt and what happened to your bike?”

“It’s nothing, Mom. I was riding in the hills and some guy came out of the woods on a horse. He got thrown off and I skidded into a ditch. That’s all. It was no big deal.”

“No big deal? Someone could have been seriously injured. Who was this man?”

“I don’t know, just some guy on a horse.”

“He didn’t tell you his name?”

The irritation sounded in Richie’s voice. “I don’t know who he was. He didn’t get hurt. I didn’t get hurt. The horse didn’t get hurt. My bike only got a couple of scratches. That’s all there was to it.”

“What, uh...” The nervous jitter started in the pit of her stomach. “What did this man look like?”

“I don’t know. He was just some guy. I never saw him before. He was tall with dark hair. He was older, even older than you are.”

Richie leveled a curious look at her, followed by a withering sigh that said he was sure her advanced age had affected her reasoning. “So what’s the big deal?”

“It’s nothing. I just thought he might have been someone I knew.” She tried to put forth a smile that said it was unimportant, but she was not sure how successful she was. “Why don’t you go on in and clean up while I start dinner?”

She went through the motions, but her mind was not on preparing the meal. All the land back in the hills belonged to the Edwards family—or, more accurately, Wyatt Edwards. Could he possibly be the man whom Richie had run into?

She closed her eyes and took a calming breath. She knew there was no way to keep Wyatt from coming in contact with her son in such a small town, but she certainly had not intended for them to meet when she was not there to control what happened. How was it possible for everything to be falling apart like this? She felt a tear trickle down her cheek.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

She looked up to find Richie standing in the kitchen door, staring at her. She could not quite read the expression on his face, but he looked concerned.

“No one got hurt and I’m sorry about ripping my shirt. It really was an accident, Mom. Honest.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, his words telling her that his concern emanated from an entirely different place than hers. But she knew the relief was only temporary. She would be seeing Wyatt again; there was no way of avoiding it. She also knew that each confrontation would bring her one step closer to what she feared the most.

Three

“I’m going to my dental appointment. I should be back in about an hour and a half, if that’s all right” Noreen grabbed her purse from beneath the counter.

“That’s fine. I have some paperwork to catch up on. Things seem to be pretty slow right now. In fact, they’ve been quiet all morning.” Vicki watched as Noreen left the store, then she returned to the order she had been working on for the grocery distributor.

Wyatt peered through the doorway separating the post office from the market. As soon as Noreen exited through the front door, he entered through the back.

“Good morning.” He tried to sound cheerful even though that was not the way he felt. The impulsive embrace of the previous day kept running through his mind. Even though it rekindled the passionate feelings he had been carrying inside him, it also reinforced the anger and hurt. There was a lot to reconcile, a lot she had to answer for.

Vicki looked up from her paperwork. “Uh...good morning.” She refused to allow any hint of the warmth his touch had caused to show in her expression. She did not want him to think she was happy to see him again, especially after the way he had pulled her into his arms.

Wyatt proceeded directly to the counter, his attitude all business. “I would like to place an order for some special food items. Can you handle that or do I need to go to the city to procure what I want?”

“If my distributor handles the items, then I will be able to get them for you. I’m just putting together an order now.” She looked up at him, trying her best to maintain a professional manner. “What is it you want?”

“What is it I want?”