It had taken Francine some convincing to get Wyatt back to the festival. She and Johnny did their best to put him in a better mood, but hurt still lurked behind his eyes, and the few times he did smile, it was only a half-hearted attempt.
As the sun set, they ate dinner with Wyatt’s brothers and their families, then trooped to the open-air pavilion for dancing under the stars.
A special tent had been set up for the kids to do arts and crafts and play board games while the grown-ups danced. When Maddy and her cousins all begged to go there, Johnny said he wanted to as well, which shocked her. He’d blossomed so much the last couple of weeks.
She and Wyatt checked him in with the woman in charge of the kids’ tent.
Francine knelt in front of him. “Now promise me you’ll stay close to Maddy and her cousins, okay? If you want to be with me and Wyatt, you tell this nice lady here, and she’ll call me.”
“Yes, Mommy.”
“Have fun tonight, sweetie.”
“You, too, Mommy! ’Bye!” He raced over to the table where the Sullivan kids sat.
“I don’t think he’ll miss me at all tonight,” she said, and stood up.
“Doesn’t look like it. Guess that means you can have some fun, huh?” Wyatt grinned at her and winked.
They left the tent and Wyatt took her hand, linking his fingers with hers as they walked to the dance floor. It sent shock waves up her arm, across her shoulders and down to her heart. How could something as simple as holding hands mean so much?
But it did, and she savored his touch. His fingers were strong and sturdy, his palms callused. Occasionally his thumb would stroke her hand, and she tingled in so many places.
He led her to the dance floor and turned to face her. Unlike the first time they danced at the barbecue, she willingly went into his arms. Two uncoordinated feet or not, she meant to savor every minute of tonight.
The band started another song, a slow one, and he pulled her closer, their bodies melding as one in time with the song. She laid her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and his arms tightened around her. It was more like hugging to music, and she loved it. Didn’t want it to end, wanted to stay that way forever.
She opened her eyes and stared at his neck. Moving her head just a touch, she was able to kiss his neck. She nudged his hair back and gently bit the skin just above his jacket collar.
Wyatt jerked, his hand flexing on her hip. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve never given anyone a hickey before.” She raised her head and grinned at him.
“You keep doing that and I won’t be held responsible for what happens next.”
“What? You’ll give me one back?”
His eyes mesmerized her as he studied her face. “Yup. But not where anyone can see it.” He lowered his head and spoke into her ear. “It’d be a secret, just between you and me. And every time you’d see my mark on your smooth skin, you’d remember the feel of my mouth on your body.”
She gulped, and her body went flaming hot. Taking a step back, she stared at him, then grabbed his hand and tugged him off the dance floor.
She wanted him now with a desperation she’d never felt before. Looking all around, she tried to find somewhere private they could go.
“What are you looking for?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Someplace we can be alone,” she said, frustrated.
His eyes squinted, and he looked up toward the sky. “I know a place.”
“We can’t leave. I just want a few minutes alone with you. Now.”
“Not leaving. Come with me.”
This time he pulled her through the crowds toward a row of buildings on a side street just outside the festival tents. He walked past the first building on the corner and ducked into an alley, taking her with him.
He stopped at a door cloaked in shadow. “Earlier I saw this building is still vacant. Wanna be a rebel tonight, Frankie?”
She nodded, not able to speak.
“Keep an eye on the street, make sure no one sees us.” He faced the door and she heard a soft bang, then metal grating on metal.
She glanced at him and saw the door stood open now. A light flashed—he’d pulled his phone out to light the way.
“Did you just break in?” A little frisson of fear interrupted her excitement.
“Nope. Well, not really. I just know the trick to opening the door. Call it a talent I picked up in my youth.”
“I don’t know about this. Is it safe?”
“I wouldn’t bring you here if it wasn’t. I thought you wanted a little rebellion tonight.”
She hesitated.
“Come on, little rebel.” He held a hand out to her, and she took it. He led the way to a staircase, his phone lighting the path in the deserted building.
Nerves and excitement warred together, coupled with an intense desire for this man.
She’d never done anything like this, even as a teenager. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told him she’d never acted out, had always been a good girl.
Tonight that would all change. Her own little rebellion with Wyatt. Tingles danced across her back and down her spine, and she experienced something she never had before. The need to be a little naughty.
The stairs ended at a door. Would her adventure end now?
He tapped the door just above the knob, then turned it. The door opened, and she realized they were on the roof. He led her outside into the cold air.
They walked to the parapet bordering the edge of the roof. It was just low enough for her to lean on and look over.
“Oh, we’re right over the festival!” She looked all around at the bright lights on the dance floor, the flags waving in the breeze, then up at the zillions of stars in the sky. Even with the limited lights from the town, she could easily see them all.
Warmth covered her back as Wyatt stood behind her, pressing his body to hers. “What was that about being a hickey virgin?” he asked, his voice low.
She turned around in his arms so she faced him. “I’ve never gotten nor given one,” she said, surprised at the huskiness in her voice. “You want one?”
He nodded.
“Where?”
He opened his denim jacket, unbuttoned his flannel shirt. “Right here.” He pointed to his left pec. “So I can see it if I look down, or in the mirror. And think of you,” he said.
She licked her lips, staring at his chest. Leaning forward, she kissed the area he’d pointed to, then licked it, heard his sharp intake of breath. She bit lightly, sucked the skin between her teeth, soothing it with her tongue.
His hand gripped her hips, and he pressed against her. He was so hard she gasped. Heat pooled low in her belly, and she scraped her nails lightly across his chest.
She pulled back, saw a dark mark on his pec, and it excited her to know she’d put her own mark on him. But it didn’t compare to the mark he’d left on her soul.
Slipping her hands between them, she unbuttoned her blouse, watched him watching her. The cold air hit her chest, and her nipples tightened even more than they had been.
He slipped his arms around her, arching her back, pulling her upper body closer. Bending over, he latched on to her breast through the lace of her bra.
She let her head fall back and just let herself feel. Tonight was all about reveling in Wyatt, even if they were stealing just a short time away together.
His lips and tongue traced her skin along her bra line, then he bit down gently, in the same spot she’d marked him. Happiness filled her that he wanted their marks to match.
She raised her arms and caressed his head as he gave her pleasure. Running her fingers through his hair, she savored the silkiness.
He lifted his head and looked at her chest. She looked down, saw the love bite he’d given her. She traced the mark with her index finger, dipping down just beneath the edge of her bra.
He groaned.
And she smiled.
He kissed her, and the power behind it, the intensity, took her by surprise. Their tongues tangled, and every stroke of his sent her higher, made her crave more. She pressed her hips to his, frustrated by the amount of clothes between them.
But they were on a roof in the middle of town. What could happen? They couldn’t even go out to his truck in case people walked by.
“Turn around,” he said.
“Why?”
“Just do it,” he rasped.
She complied, felt him lean against her again. He took her arms and laid them out along the parapet. “Keep your arms there.”
“What are you doing?”
“Tonight’s about your pleasure.”
Cold air slid across her legs as he raised the back of her denim skirt, and goose bumps prickled her skin. His hands glided down her legs, taking her panties off.
She heard the rasp of his zipper, then his hands were everywhere at once. He caressed her bottom, her stomach, her breasts. She couldn’t keep up with the sensations and finally let them spill over her, one after the other.
He slid into her, filling her body, filling her heart, filling her soul.
No one had ever touched her this way. Honestly, if she could finally admit it to herself, no one had ever made her feel this way, taking her to new heights with every stroke, every touch.
“You’re so beautiful, Frankie,” he whispered against her hair. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
His words set her free, and she came hard and fast, clenching her hands on the brick parapet. He followed her, grating out her name, over and over.
He moved back, and she mourned the warmth of his body.
She turned around and shook her skirt down, put her panties back on. She couldn’t believe what she had just done. Peeking over the edge of the parapet, she didn’t see anyone pointing up at them.
“Shit,” Wyatt said.
“What’s wrong?” She turned around to see him calling someone.
“A 911 text from my dad.”
Fear clutched her heart that something had happened to her father.
“Pop, what’s wrong?” Wyatt asked. His whole body tensed. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.” He hung up and grabbed her hand. “We need to go.”
“What is it? What happened?”
“A security guard found Johnny sleeping in one of the empty tents. He’s at the police station. A deputy recognized him from the other day, called my dad when they couldn’t reach you.”
She grabbed her phone out of her pocket, saw it was dead. “I knew I shouldn’t have let John Allen stay at the kids’ tent.” She ran to the door and hurried down the stairs, feeling her way in the dark.
“Frankie, wait for me. I’ve got the light.” He caught up to her at the bottom of the stairs, shone the light as they left the building.
“Where’s the police station?”
“About a mile from here. Come on.” He grabbed her hand, but she pulled away, saw the hurt flash across his face. She started running to the parking lot. She’d have to apologize later. Right now she had to get to her son. He’d been alone and scared, and she’d been off having fun.
Anything could’ve happened to him. And if something had, she’d never forgive herself for letting her guard down.
* * *
WYATT PULLED UP to the police station and parked in front. He stared out at the sign lit up like a glowing neon reminder of his past.
Frankie shoved the passenger door open. “Are you coming or not?” All he could do was stare at her, his voice frozen.
She got out and ran to the front door but looked back at him, then yanked the door open and disappeared into the building.
This was his fault. He’d convinced Frankie to have a little revolt against her respectable life. To live on the wild side, even if it was no more than a half hour on the roof of an abandoned building. With him.
He’d come home to change his life, to live quietly and stay out of trouble. Now he’d brought it to the woman and child he loved more than anything.
Forcing himself to shove the heavy door open, he finally got out of the truck. Each step up the sidewalk to the door felt like he was sinking in quicksand, or mired in thick, black tar. Reaching out to open the grimy glass door, his hand shook. He made a fist, inhaled a deep breath, then bit the bullet and opened the door.
Walking into the station, the chemical smell of industrial cleaners assaulted him, and he flashed back two years ago. Adrenaline spiked so high it made his head hurt.
The police radio squawked an emergency call, echoing around the room. Sweat trickled down his back, making his shirt stick to his clammy skin.
Two men across the lobby caught his attention—Pop and Mr. Wentworth.
Wyatt pushed himself across the lobby, his boots scuffing the cracked linoleum. “How’d you beat me here?”
“We were in town having dinner when the sheriff called because they couldn’t reach Francine,” Pop said.
An electronic door in the back of the station buzzed open and a deputy escorted Johnny out.
Johnny saw Frankie and ran to her. “Mommy!”
She fell to her knees and grabbed him in a hug.
Wyatt moved to go to them, but his dad stopped him.
Wentworth hurried over to her and Johnny. “Come on, Francine. Stand up.” He helped her up, patted Johnny’s back.
Wyatt shook his dad’s hand off and moved to Frankie and Johnny. “You okay, bud?”
Johnny nodded but didn’t reach out to him, which cut him in half.
“They don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you,” Wentworth said to Wyatt.
“Stop! Don’t talk about him like that,” Frankie said.
“I had him investigated, Francine.”
“Y-you what?” Wyatt asked, fear making him feel like he’d puke.
“Did you know he’d been in prison?”
She nodded. “Yes, he told me. In high school. He was innocent.”
“No, he was arrested a couple of years ago for smuggling drugs across the Mexican border into Texas, and he went to prison. He’s an ex-con, Francine. You shouldn’t be around someone like him. Nor should my grandson.”
Wyatt’s world caved in, and he didn’t know which way was up. Breath backed up in his lungs. He looked at Frankie, wanting to beg her to understand.
But she stared at him like she’d never seen him before. Worse, like he was the criminal her father accused him of being.
“It’s not true—” he said, reaching for her.
She jerked away from him, and it was like she’d stabbed him in the heart. “Why didn’t you tell me before? You had plenty of opportunity.”
“I was ashamed—”
“I need to get my daughter and grandson to the ranch. It’s been a long day, and I don’t want this to continue.”
“Take my car,” Pop said and handed his keys to Wentworth.
Wentworth pulled Frankie and Johnny close, led them past him and out of the station.
He started to follow them, but his dad stopped him. “Let them go.”
“I need to explain to her, tell her what really happened.”
“Tomorrow, son. Emotions are too high right now. Come on. Let’s go home.”
Wyatt handed his keys to his dad, afraid he’d crash his truck trying to get them back to the ranch.
Nothing had ever hurt this much. He just prayed she’d listen to him in the morning.
And not that he expected Pop to come to his rescue, but he’d just stood there, not saying a word, when he knew it wasn’t true. It cut him deep—his own father.