“What was that about?” Natalie asked once they were well away from the bonfire’s glow.
“You really don’t wanna know.”
“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” She rolled down her window. Sweet wood smoke laced the air rushing across her flushed cheeks and chest. “Your mom, bless her heart, just pressed my hot button nine ways to Sunday. Way I see it, I’ll tell you my frustrations, then you can vent yours.”
“Deal. Do you like shooting?”
Forehead furrowed, she angled on the seat to face him. “Haven’t done it since I was a kid, but it was fun then.”
“Oh,” he said with a sharp laugh, “you’re gonna love this.”
Twenty minutes driving across dark prairie landed them alongside an old wood outbuilding and trash pile from the land’s previous owners. One of the latest parcels added to the vast Buckhorn spread, the old Spring place wasn’t fancy, but according to Josie, Dallas had gone after it with a vengeance.
“Come on,” Wyatt said, taking a 30-30 rifle from the back window. “And grab the shells from the glove box.”
Moonlight shimmered off a pond. From somewhere—Natalie hoped far away—coyotes yipped. After handing Wyatt the ammo, she hugged herself to ward off a chill.
“Cold?” he asked, boots crunching on hard-packed dirt.
“A little.”
He removed his ranch coat, settling it about her shoulders. It was still warm and smelled of him—a delicious blend of leather and soap and citrus that quickened her pulse.
“Thanks.”
He cast her a faint, unreadable smile before fishing rusty cans from a burn barrel. After lining ten along the crooked posts of a barbwire fence, he took the rifle from under his arm and the shells from his back pocket and loaded the gun.
Handing it to her, he said, “Ladies first.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” she said, “but it’s been a while. As a refresher course, I’ll watch you a few times.”
Shrugging, he said, “Suit yourself. I’ve got to work some of this frustration out before I say something to Dallas I’m gonna regret.” Aiming at the farthest can, he fired, blowing it to smithereens. “Damn! Now that’s what I’m talking about.”
Natalie laughed above her still-ringing ears. “Hand me that gun, cowboy. Training camp’s over. I want a turn.”
He loaded it before handing it to her. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“No, but how hard can it be?” She prepared to fire, but he stopped her.
“A pose like that is going to give you one helluva bruise. Try this…” Behind her, he drew back the butt of the rifle, landing it square against her shoulder. His proximity set off explosions that had nothing to do with gun powder. The tall, lean length of him radiated heat to her shoulders and back and butt, igniting a tingling swirl in her belly. What was wrong with her? She’d never been attracted to Wyatt. He was the kind of guy she knew she could count on if she had a flat tire. He wasn’t the kind of guy a single, pregnant woman turned to for a rebound fling. He was renowned for breaking hearts—never saving them. “Feel better?”
With his warm breath in her ear, she most certainly did not feel better. What she truly felt was a yearning hunger for another kiss. Ludicrous, but undeniable. Forcing a breath, she nodded.
“Good. Line the can in your sight, then pow. Blow all your frustrations away.” He’d whispered that one little word, causing more damage to her resolve to resist his charm than she’d ever do to the can.
“This one’s for you, Georgina.”
“Sounds intriguing,” he teased.
She pulled the trigger, and found that the noise and thrill were just the ticket to clearing the angst buildup.
An hour later, having finished off the box of shells, Natalie sat alongside Wyatt in the old truck, warming her hands in front of blowing heater vents. “Thanks for this. It turned out to be exactly what I needed.”
“Happy to oblige.”
After a few moments’ comfortable silence, cocooned in the truck’s dark cab, Natalie said, “I haven’t yet found the nerve to tell my folks about my pregnancy. Their world’s pretty black and white, and having an unwed daughter with a baby on the way wouldn’t even begin to compute.”
“Sorry. When it comes to family disapproval, mine wrote the book.”
“Oh, please.” Twisting on the seat for a better view of his handsome profile, she asked, “What have you ever done that the mighty Buckhorns disapproved of?”
“Like your folks,” he said, narrowly avoiding a fallen tree, “they would prefer I be married. Oh—and they can’t stand my house.”
“Really? Town gossip says it’s pretty amazing.”
“I like to think so.” His smile warmed her far more efficiently that the heater.
“And lately, they’re mighty pissed about me leaving.”
“Hmm…Josie told me about your great Ethiopian adventure. Sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Something to be done before you finally do settle down with a wife and those requisite 2.5 kids.”
Natalie had expected Wyatt to appreciate her support. Instead, his expression hardened.
She asked, “Did I somehow offend you?”
He shook his head and gripped the wheel tighter.
“Then why the one-eighty in your mood?”
After a glance out his window at the inky nothing beyond the glass, he exhaled. “What the hell? I’ve needed to get this off my chest for a while now, and I like you, Natalie. Always have. Most girls fell for my Buckhorn hype, but not you. You always treated me like a regular Joe.”
Stomach sour, Natalie wasn’t sure she wanted to hear whatever Wyatt had to say.
“I appreciate that. Outside of family, and a few close friends, there aren’t a lot of people I can trust to keep my private issues private. Know what I mean?”
She nodded. “I feel that way about Josie. As happy as I was to see her marry Dallas, part of me mourned to have lost her. Sure, we’ll always be close, but not the way we were before she began bursting with family.”
Wincing, he said, “There’s that word again. The bane of my existence.”
“Family?” Wrinkling her nose, she said, “I would think however your relatives are, they’re still your blood and you love them.”
“Love has nothing to do with it. Their expectations for me to be just like them is what brings me down—especially since no matter how much they bitch and nag about me marrying and having kids, their hopes will never come to pass.”
“Why? You’re young. How can you arbitrarily decide you never want to be more than a bachelor?”
“Easy.” Thumping the heel of his hand against the wheel, he added, “Especially since it wasn’t even my decision. I’ll never have a son or daughter.”
“What do you mean?”
“To spell it out, I’m sterile.”
Heart aching for him, eyes stinging with tears she struggled to hold in, she asked, “H-how do you know?”
“Nasty case of mumps. Doc Haven tested me. That’s why I’m so desperate to get out of Weed Gulch. No one knows, and the last thing I want to do is tell them. I don’t want their pity or well-meaning lectures on the wonders of adoption. I need to be left alone, you know? Just come to grips with this in my own way.”
Hand on his forearm, she asked, “How long have you known?”
“A few months, and damned if the more kids my brothers and sister pop out, the more disconnected I feel. I will forever be the lone man out and it—”
When his voice cracked, Natalie scooted across the seat to put her arms around him.
He stopped the truck, killing the engine.
Though Wyatt never shed a tear, Natalie could only imagine how much his diagnosis had hurt. For a guy like him, his macho manliness no doubt meant the world. To never be able to have his own namesake must be crushing.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, holding him for all she was worth. “Ironic how your family wants nothing more than for you to produce a child, and mine is going to be peeved for that very fact.”
“Which is why I need to get the hell out of Dodge. For the most part, family is great, but this is one time when I just want to escape.”
Not sure what the politically correct thing to say was at a time like this, Natalie said the first thing that popped into her mind. “I don’t blame you. The Buckhorns are a pretty intense bunch. I can just imagine Georgina catching wind of this. Demanding you have every test in the book done, ignoring the fact that you’re a big boy and no doubt already double-and triple-checked this for yourself.”
“True.”
She gave him another hug. “You go off on this adventure of yours, and once you get back, maybe you’ll feel better about your lot, maybe you won’t, but at least you’ll be out there, living life to its fullest.”
Easing back, he said, “You’re amazing. How is it I never dated you?”
“Simple,” she teased, “I’m too smart to ever fall victim to your charm.”
ONE WEEK LATER, FIVE rows from Weed Gulch Elementary’s stage, Wyatt sat crammed between his sister-in-law Wren and his nephew Kolt. Wren’s nearly three-year-old daughter, Robin, sat on her lap, smelling like she might be having an issue with whatever she’d eaten for dinner. Trapped in a room bursting with families, Wyatt had never been more keenly aware of his own deficiency.
The one person who’d made him feel better about himself and his decision to leave town was Natalie.
Daisy’s dark-haired eleven-year-old son, Kolt, wrinkled his nose. “Aunt Wren, Robin really stinks.”
Just then Natalie stepped out from behind the blue velvet stage curtains. Natalie was the night’s MC. She looked good in a rusty-orange sweater over brown pants. He liked her hair, too. Loose and wavy. Pretty—like her smile.
Cash’s wife, Wren, laughed. “I know, hon. I told your uncle to not feed her bean soup, but he didn’t listen. She’s almost totally potty trained, but not good enough for that much fiber.”
“Shhh.” Weary of baby talk, eagerly awaiting whatever Natalie was about to say, Wyatt crossed his arms and prayed for the family portion of the night to end.
“What a wonderful turnout!” Natalie said with a bright smile. Had she always looked so good? “On behalf of our students and staff, thank you for taking time to attend our fall concert. The kids have worked hard, and can’t wait to show off their skills.”
Once the program started, Wyatt had to admit all of the songs and hand motions were cute, but instead of focusing on his nieces’ talent, he felt trapped under his own dark cloud. How different would the night be were he watching his own children perform?
The show droned on for two hours, during which every baby and toddler present screamed in turns. By the time the twins took their last bows, Wyatt was more than ready to bolt. But no. First, he had to have cake and punch in the deafening cafeteria. Why, why hadn’t he driven himself?
“Not that you probably deserve it,” teased a warm, familiar voice from beside him, “but come on. You look like a man in dire need of silence.” Natalie led Wyatt by his arm out of the chaos and into the bliss of her deserted office. She gestured for him to take a seat on the sofa. She parked behind her desk.
Hands to his throbbing forehead, Wyatt asked, “How do you stand being around here all day, every day?”
“It’s usually not this crazy. When school’s in session, rules and procedures keep the noise to a minimum.”
“Still…” He managed a grimace. “I’m starting to loathe kids. Which in my case is a good thing, right?”
“Oh, stop.” Tidying a pile of papers, she added, “The night hasn’t been that bad. And anyway, it’s over now.” Natalie looked awfully grown-up seated behind her big desk. How many crying kiddos had been in here for her to soothe?
He sat a little straighter.
She reached for an apple-shaped candy dish mounded with Hershey’s Kisses. “Want one?”
Shaking his head, he said, “I’m maxed out on sugar.”
Apparently she wasn’t, as she proceeded to unwrap three of the treats before popping them in her mouth. Her expression was one of pure pleasure. Damned if she didn’t look in the throes of an orgasm. The notion produced pressure beneath his fly, along with the asinine urge to lick a speck of chocolate from the corner of her lips.
Wyatt cleared his throat. “I, ah, wasn’t going to come tonight.”
“Why?” Was she aware that when she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her desk, her shadowy cleavage popped into view? “This was a big deal for the twins. I know they wanted their favorite uncle here.”
Wyatt snorted. “Cash is everyone’s favorite.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. The girls talk about you all the time. Bonnie refers to you as her favorite oil king.”
“Nice,” he said with a chuckle. After taking one of her candies, he added, “My Ethiopian residence card came today.”
“Are you excited?”
“Yes and no. As much as I’ll be relieved to get out of here, it’s strange to think the next time I see Esther, she’ll be walking.”
“How does that make you feel? Any regrets?”
He took more candy. Had Natalie always smelled so good? Like a mix of flowers and chocolate and the faintest hint of a just-sharpened pencil?
“Wyatt?” she asked, waving her hand in front of his face. “Earth to Wyatt.”
“Huh?”
“I asked if any part of you regrets leaving.”
Funny, but at the moment, the one thing Wyatt knew he’d miss about Weed Gulch was Natalie. His whole life she’d been right under his nose. How could he have not taken the time to know her before now? “Other than hot and cold running water, electricity and reliable meals, I think I’m good.”
She laughed, which made him smile, too.
Which was nice. If only for a little while.
“IS WYATT HERE?” ON Saturday morning, Natalie had found a travel book on Ethiopia at a yard sale. Hoping she’d run into Wyatt at Georgina’s latest gathering on Sunday afternoon, she’d brought it along.
“No,” his mother said, “he hasn’t even left the county lines, but for all the time he spends with me, he might as well already be gone.” Georgina, dressed in a Victorian period costume complete with a huge feathered hat, daintily sipped her chamomile tea. While all of the ladies present looked to be enjoying high tea, Cash and Dallas had holed up in the movie room. The mere thought of manly Wyatt eating petit fours and discussing the perfect Thanksgiving side dishes brought on a smile. “He said he had business in Tulsa, but I was up all night and this morning with indigestion and never saw him leave.”
“Hmm…” Natalie hid behind her orange spice.
Truth was, she hardly knew him well enough on a personal level to be disappointed by not seeing him today, so why did she now feel pouty? She’d been looking forward to giving him her gift. She’d never met anyone brave enough to just pack up and run away. Sure, lots of people talked about it, but Wyatt had the balls to actually do it. She admired him for that. And as anxious as she was about tackling the frontier of single-motherhood, she planned on adopting Wyatt’s fearless attitude when it came to raising her child.
“I’m tired of talking about my horrible son,” Georgina said above a classical crescendo, “let’s talk about you. I’m concerned. I spoke with your mom the other day at gardening club and she said she’s afraid you’re hiding something from her.”
Natalie lightly shook her head. “Mrs. Buckhorn, I don’t mean to be rude, but my personal, private business aside, you just called your son horrible for following his heart. I don’t mean any disrespect, but as the one woman in his life he loves above all others, shouldn’t you support his decision?”
“It’s not that simple.” Georgina set her cup and saucer on the table. “We need Wyatt here. His leaving is selfish. I need him here.”
“For what? From what he’s told me, he’s set up your oil holdings to practically run themselves.”
The older woman sighed. “Your frown tells me you don’t understand. My kind of clarity on these matters only comes with age.”
To be polite Natalie nodded, while inside, she vowed to never be so far removed from her son or daughter to stop communicating with them not just on the daily superficial matters, but on issues that truly matter.
Fed up with small talk and hearing advice on everything from getting Craig back to shedding those few extra pounds she seemed to have put on, Natalie didn’t bother consulting Josie before sneaking out the back door.
Cold November rain hitting her cheeks came as a welcome relief. As did the sweet smell of a wood fire. The house had been stifling. Too much perfume fighting for attention.
Once in her car, for the longest time Natalie rested her forehead against the wheel. What was wrong with the people of this town that they all felt not only obliged to share their opinions on the most personal aspects of her life, but downright entitled?
Wyatt was right to leave. If she hadn’t gone and done a stupid thing like believing Craig loved her, she might still be in a position to do some running herself. As it was, she couldn’t afford to abandon her job or support system—no matter how annoying they all might be.
Backing out of her parking space, Natalie had just decided to make an emergency ice-cream run when it occurred to her that maybe an even better way to spend her afternoon would be by talking out her frustrations about Georgina with the only other person who seemed equally annoyed by her pushy manner—Wyatt.
Before chickening out, instead of aiming her car for the main road, she steered down the blacktop lane leading to his home. In all the years she’d known the Buckhorns, she’d never seen Wyatt’s house. Come to think of it, not that many folks around town had.
Cash and Wren lived in a clean-lined home not half a mile from Georgina. Josie and Dallas lived with the Buckhorn matriarch in the main house, and Daisy and Luke resided in Luke’s cabin until renovations were finished on the historic wreck they were lovingly restoring. Wyatt, however, resided in the woods. Reportedly a good ten miles from the rest of the clan. Rumor had him living in everything from a tin shed to a mobile home to a playboy-style mansion.
Three miles into her trek, rain drummed her car roof. Poor visibility had her slowing to a ridiculous pace. Mile after mile, the blacktop road snaked through dense forest. Just when Natalie was convinced she must have driven all the way to Kansas, there it was. Wyatt’s house. Only town gossip hadn’t done it justice.
Like the oil rigs he spent most of his time working, the structure was steel, clinging to a wooded hillside. At first glance, a haphazard series of staggered boxes. Upon closer inspection, the hard metal bones had been covered in glass skin that even on such a dreary day, reflected forest and sky. The place was spellbinding. All the more so when through one of the center panels she spied Wyatt lounging on a couch, watching TV.
Parking alongside his black truck with its Buckhorn Ranch insignia on the doors, she left her purse in the car, struggling instead with an umbrella and his book.
At the end of a gray flagstone walk, she faced an imposing, cranberry-red door. Dripping, trying to keep her umbrella from flying away in the wind, she was on the verge of bailing on her impromptu mission, when the door opened and there stood Wyatt. Bare-chested, wearing faded jeans and nothing else.
“Thought I heard a car. What’re you doing here?”
“Nice to see you, too.” Leaving her umbrella, she brushed past him.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean that to come out the way it sounded. Guess I’m surprised to see you. Thought you’d be holed up with my family all day.”
“I was—for most of it, anyway. Then your mother ticked me off, and I just wanted out.”
“What’d she do now?”
“I’ll tell you just as soon as you show me where the nearest bathroom is,” she said, her teeth chattering.
He pointed down a shadowy hall. “First door on your left.”
Natalie finished with the necessities that her pregnancy had created and took one look in the mirror and cringed. The humidity had transformed her formerly straightened long hair into a frizz ball. Her mascara ran, and her complexion sported a vampire pall. If she’d brought in her purse, she’d have at least had a ponytail holder to tame her hair. As it was, she settled for using tissue to fix her face.
“Took you long enough.” Wyatt hadn’t left the entry hall.
“Are you the bathroom police?”
His white-toothed grin stole her breath. “I’ve seen feral cats look better than you.”
“If I had the energy, I’d beat you to a pulp.”
“Yeah, right.” He helped her remove her coat. “You tried once in fourth grade and failed miserably.”
“Only because Dallas came to your rescue.”
“That could be debated.” He tossed her coat onto an antique sideboard. The eclectic mix of furniture was genius. Had he done it himself or had help?
“Come on.” Taking her by her arm, he said, “Let’s get you warmed up.” He led her down a short flight of stairs to a room so awe-inspiring she literally couldn’t think of a single intelligent thing to say. Three walls were composed of floor-to-ceiling glass. Centered on the furthest wall was a river-stone fireplace, glowing with warmth. A mammoth plasma-screen TV hung above the mantel and a custom U-shaped sectional occupied the center of the cathedral-ceilinged space. A sumptuous white area rug covered maple floors. The overall effect was as if they were floating through the forest on a magic carpet.
“I shouldn’t be here.” Natalie nodded to her still damp clothes and specks of mud on her shoes. “I’ll muss something.”
Kneeling alongside her, he removed one of her black heels, then the other. His knuckles grazed her ankles, shocking her with the unexpected intimacy of his touch. “Next excuse?”
“Th-thanks.” Her teeth still occasionally chattered, but she suspected now more because of her erratic pulse than cold. His actions had been kind. Something Josie might’ve done—only with plenty of teasing and a goofy smile.
“No problem.” Taking the TV remote from the sofa, he muted a football game. “Coffee? Have a seat and I’ll put on a fresh pot.”
“Thanks, but—” she pointed to the bump beneath her billowy blue blouse “—no caffeine for me.”
“Right. I forgot.” Hands in his pockets, he looked to the floor, then met her gaze. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“You being pregnant. All the fertility around here is what’s driving me to leave. A wise man wouldn’t have let you in this house.”
“What’s that make you?” She couldn’t resist zinging back.
“Ouch.” His smile blocked all rational thought. “Guess that makes me not-so-wise, but seriously, it’s nice to see you.”
“Likewise.” They shared an awkward moment of silence, gazes meeting, then breaking, only to meet up again. Unable to cope with her awareness of his size, and how easy it was to recall every detail of their kiss, she struggled to remember her reason for being at his home. “I, um, brought you a book, but left it in the bathroom.” Hitching her thumb that way, she said, “I’ll go get it.”
“Let me,” he said, already halfway there. “You have a seat.”
She did, but mostly because of her rubbery knees than because he’d asked.
“This is great,” he called from the hall. Entering the living room, he flipped through the glossy pages. “I ordered one online, but it hasn’t come. Where’d you find it?”
“Yard sale. It was only a quarter, but I thought you might enjoy thumbing through.”
“I will. Thanks. Ethiopia doesn’t get a lot of coverage on travel sites.”
“Are you afraid of violence?”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. I’ll be working with a major oil player, though, so there will be security.” He sat on the opposite end of the sofa to her, still leafing through his gift. “The poverty aspect is tough, too. It bothers me that we’ll have the latest in gadgetry and freeze-dried gourmet when the locals are barely scraping by. But then on the flip side, our base camp is set up at a safari resort. Up until researching this trip, I never would’ve thought anyone went to Ethiopia on vacation. Turns out it’s a beautiful country.”
“Hmm…” Reflective, with her hand over her tummy, Natalie said, “All in all, it still sounds like a wonderful adventure, which is why I’m so miffed with your mom. She called you horrible and selfish for leaving.”
His only reaction was to shrug. “She’s told me her opinion to my face. At first, it stung. Now, I’m over it.”
“Still… Have you considered letting her in on your reasons for leaving?”
“Next topic.” He added a couple logs to the fire. “In general, how was the party?”
“The usual. Over-the-top food, decorations and conversation. When I left, Daisy was counting how many times she’d seen contractor ‘cracks’ at her new house. They had to tear down the new north wing and start over.”
He winced. “Makes me doubly glad I missed it.”
“If you don’t mind my asking,” she said, “why didn’t you at least want to spend time with your brothers?”
Stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles, he took his sweet time to answer. “Suffice to say it’s complicated.”
“I do have my master’s in counseling.”
He snorted. “That your not-so-subtle way of comparing my brainpower to that of a third grader?”
“Wyatt, I’m serious.” Though the rain outside fell harder, his complexion appeared red and overheated. “I get that your issues must be like a slow death inside, but you can’t run forever—well, you could, but you’d miss out on a lot.”
“Master’s or not,” he said, “feel free to drop it. You’re making me wish I’d never told you.”
“Sorry.”
“Are you?” he snapped. “You sit there judging me when you already have the one gift I never will. Think about it.”
Throat tight, Natalie sighed. She slipped on her shoes and coat and made it all the way to the door without him saying a word.
She’d just stepped back out in the rain when Wyatt called, “Hey, Nat?”
“Yes?” Was it wrong for her to hope he’d repair the gaping hole now between them?
“Thanks again for the book, but it’s probably best you don’t come around anymore.”