Wyatt: Return of the Cowboy Read Free Page B

who’d disappear later, never to be heard from again.”
    Paige had loved school. It was her escape. But, oh, how she’d hated mornings and coming face to face with whatever man staggered out of her mother’s bedroom.
    “I understand.”
    Wyatt did, he wasn’t just offering empty platitudes. Their lousy upbringings and unloving parents—her mother, his father—had bonded them at a young age.
    “People—guys—thought I was like my mother. It was rough fending them off. When I met Dan, Seth’s father, I thought things would be different. That he was different. Then I got pregnant, and he left town, pretty much the same way he appeared. Out of the blue. It got really rough after that, especially since I was working for your parents. Barmaids and unwed mothers, it seems, have reputations, deserved or not.”
    “I should have taken you with me,” Wyatt said. “I meant to call, as soon as I settled someplace permanent. Only that didn’t happen.”
    She nodded, swallowing the bitter lump lodged in her throat.
    “Why didn’t you leave on your own?”
    “Money. I was barely eighteen and flat broke. Much as I wanted out of the house, I didn’t want to wind up on the streets somewhere. Not too much later your parents hired me at the saloon, and I met Dan. It all worked out.” She mustered a smile. “If I’d left, I might not have Seth, and he means the world to me. Speaking of which, I’d better get in the house and check on the homework situation.”
    “I really appreciate you letting me stay here,” Wyatt said. “I can pay you—”
    “I wouldn’t hear of it.” Did he think her destitute?
    “Maybe you’ll let me take you out to dinner one night. Seth, too.”
    “We’ll see.” Her guard lowered slightly. Wyatt probably hadn’t intended to offend her.
    “I really need to go.”
    She squeezed past him, acutely aware of their thighs and arms brushing and the unsteadiness of her breathing. Throwing open the door, she all but leapt out of the motor home and bolted into the house.
    It had been a mistake inviting Wyatt to stay with her, and not just because of the old, angry feelings he stirred inside her.
    * * *
    Wyatt stepped outside the motor home. The snow had stopped falling while he’d settled in, but the air remained icy cold. He rubbed his hands together, debating on returning for his gloves. Evening came early this time of year, and it would get even colder before long. Already the sky was growing dark.
    He headed for the side gate, not wanting to disturb Paige by traipsing through the house.
    “You leaving?”
    He spun at the sound of Seth’s voice. “Just to the market. I need a few supplies. Coffee in particular.” He’d been so caught up in his own thoughts he hadn’t noticed the boy.
    “Mom’s inside. Paying bills.” Seth gripped a coiled lariat in his right hand.
    It was then Wyatt noticed the roping dummy with its plastic calf head not far away, the snow surrounding it trampled down by boy-sized boot prints.
    “You like to rope?” he asked.
    Seth shrugged and slapped the rope against his leg.
    “You any good?”
    “I’m better than Jerome Pickler.”
    “That’s saying something.”
    “Mom told me you’re a rodeo champion.”
    “Was. For a while. Bronc riding, not roping. So, I bet you’re better than me, too.” Wyatt sidled closer. “Want to show me some of your throws?”
    Seth shrugged again.
    “Come on, maybe you can teach me a thing or two.”
    To Wyatt’s surprise, the boy raised the lariat over his head and began twirling it. His throw landed nearly on mark.
    “Not bad. Try again.”
    Seth did better his second attempt, though he didn’t quite nail it. “Takes me a while to warm up,” he said, reeling in the lariat, which glided over the snow like a slippery snake.
    “Sure.” Wyatt moved so that he was standing directly behind Seth. “I knew an old cowboy once. He used to say the secret to roping calves was imagining the lariat was your arm, only longer,