Her Country Heart (12 page)

The ride back to the farm seemed longer than usual. Mike didn’t speak. She tried, but couldn’t think of much to say to him that wouldn’t start an argument.

In the driveway he turned off the engine and glanced at her, his expression grim. “Amy, I’m a plain spoken man and I have simple plans for my life, marriage to a good woman and a big family.” He looked her in the eye. “I’ve had a crush on you since high school. I’ve thought about you—a lot. Maybe I let my fantasy of you get out of hand, but I expected more from you. You let me down.”

“Mike, I…” suddenly cold she rubbed her arms.

“You’re a good looking woman. I’ll admit that.” He interrupted her. “Damned attractive, but you have a different way— you live by lose rules and you live with Wyatt. Tonight I realized I need a woman—let’s just say someone who is less complicated.”

“You mean not a slut.”

“That’s not what I said. But if the shoe fits… I live quietly. I’m a traditional man. There is nothing wrong with that.”

“No.”
You’re just an old fashioned traditional jerk.

“If you ever
need help finding anything at the grocery store I’ll help you, but—” He turned the engine back on.

It was her signal to leave his car. No walking her to the front door. Not that it mattered, but he had proclaimed he was an old fashioned gentleman. He should walk a lady to the door.
Oh
. The message was clear. In his eyes, she wasn’t lady just a fallen woman giving out favors to Wyatt.
Good grief.
She was sitting next to a dirty minded dinosaur in the body of a young man.

Her throat tightened and for a moment she fought tears of anger. Mad that she’d wasted an evening and had been made a spectacle by people she didn’t even like.

As soon as she was out of the car Mike gunned the engine of the compact car and speed away. She was left to fumble in the dark for her key. She entered, slammed the door and leaned against it. Were all men jerks?

She changed into a short pink nightgown but was too angry to sleep. In the kitchen, she brewed a pot of decaf coffee.

The front doorbell rang. She glanced at the old wall clock that hung near the stove, damn near eleven o’clock, too late for a caller.
Bobby
. There must be something wrong
.
She ran to the door and yanked it open.

CHAPTER 18

Wyatt
filled the doorway of the old farmhouse and was silhouetted by the moon.

“I parked down the street. I didn’t want to wake Bobby.”

“He’s staying with Sophie.”

“Oh.” It was hard to read his expression as he took off his cowboy hat and held it in one hand. “Look Amy, I don’t apologize very often. But I’m sorry about what happen at the restaurant. Wes was off base.”

“Well, let’s just say I won’t be going back to that eatery anytime soon.” She could feel her cheeks burn. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I feel responsible.”

“I’ll live.”

“Let me come in.”

“You can go back to the cottage with a good conscious.” She heard the hard edge to her voice.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with Wes. Too much to drink I guess. There was no call for him to treat you like that. Sometimes he’s a jerk.”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at him. The air had turned cold and she shivered as the wind blew through the open doorway.

Amy, you’re cold. Let me come in before you catch your death…”

“I’m fine right here.”

“I had no way of knowing you’d be at the restaurant with Mike or that Wes would behave like that.”

“You thought I’d be sitting home alone, waiting for you.”

“I just didn’t expect to see you. Invite me in.”

“Like I said, it’s late.

“Let’s talk.”

“I’m tired.”

“Offer me a drink.”

“I don’t have any liquor, no beer.”

“I don’t want boos. Make me a cup of coffee, or decaf or—hell, I’ll even drink tea. I just want to talk.”

“Really?”

“Yeah?”

“I thought we were pretty good at conversation.”

She sighed. “Okay you win. Come in and I’ll cut you a piece of apple pie and you can have some decaf. Then you have to leave.”

The short pink nightgown hit her thighs when she walked. His eyes were on her. She could feel the heat of them burning her back. If only she hadn’t changed into her night clothes.

In the light of the entryway, she pushed her glasses up from her nose and scanned him. Maybe it was the comparison to Mike, but he seemed taller, tanner, more muscled, and there was a new intensity in his expression, making him even more handsome.

“How are you? Are you really all right?” He cleared his throat and stared at her.

“Yeah.” Her voice sounded unsure even to her ears.

“Amy, I’ve tried, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

Was that supposed to be a complement? He wanted to forget her but couldn’t.

She sure wasn’t about to tell him she thought of him too.

“Go into the living room. I’ll get the pie and coffee.”

“I could start a fire.”

“Okay.”

In the kitchen, she took a deep breath. Wyatt was the last person she expected to see. Her heart pounded. Confused emotions swirled in her. Why was he here now of all times? What couldn’t wait until tomorrow when she’d be more composed? And why tonight of all nights had she chosen her shortest nightgown to wear?

The two cups and saucers rattled on the wooden tray as she carried it to the living room. She set the tray on the table in front of the sofa.

The fire was burning in the fireplace and Wyatt just putting the fire screen in place.

With a sigh, she sat down and watched the fire. He sat on the couch next to her, nearly touching her. She resisted moving away. Instead, she sipped the hot decaf, letting it slide slowly down her throat.

“Hey, the pie’s pretty good.”

“Thanks.” She tucked her leg under her and watched as he took the last bite of pie and set his empty dish and fork on the table and picked up his cup.

“No pie for you?”

“I couldn’t eat anything right now.”

His eyebrows lifted, but he didn’t ask why?

“How’s Bobby?”

“Good.” She smiled. “Loving school.” She set her cup on the table. “Uh—if it’s okay. I mean—how is Wes? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“He’s drunk as a skunk and is going to feel like shit in the morning. Couldn’t be more deserved.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t know why he’s meddling in my life now. We didn’t even grow up together. As you probably know, he went with my father and I stayed with my mom after the divorce. Now he’s acting like my father instead of my younger brother.”

Wyatt was explaining. Something he’d said he never did. Why now?

“I’ve changed Amy. Maybe I’m getting old.” He sat up and searched her face. “I thought I couldn’t wait to get back on the circuit and to the endless parties, and the drinking. Now that I’m there, I’m thinking how good it would be to come home from work and talk to someone who actually listens to me. I want to sit on my own couch, put up my feet, and watch my big screen TV. Only I don’t have a TV. No couch. I don’t even have a home.” He laughed without humor.

“Where do you live when you’re not here on the farm?” She’d been wondering, but never had the nerve to ask.

“Wherever my suitcase lands, a few days here, a week there, then a few days somewhere else. I follow the rodeo circuit. Granny’s farm is the closes thing I’ve ever had to a real home since my mom died. That never bothered me—til now.”

“I know your parents were divorced, but what about your mom’s home? Didn’t you live with her when you were a kid?”

“She rented a one bedroom apartment on Main Street above the meat market. You could say I bunked at her place. I slept on her couch when she’d let me, if she didn’t have a “gentleman” as she called them staying with her. Too often she did and needed her space, always looking for a man to love her. She never found one. Died alone.”

Amy watched him stare at the fire, his eyes cold and unmoving. Pain etched in his expression.

“What about your father?”

“Out of the picture,” he grunted. “Took my brother and left town. I learned later that when my parents divorced they each choose a son. My dad didn’t want me because I looked too much like my mom. She opted for me. I was older and less trouble.” Still staring at the fire, he finished his decaf.

She waited for him to continue, concerned if she spoke he’d stop sharing.

Finally he said, “I can’t count how many nights I stayed with kids from school. I’d stay until their parents got sick of having me around. Tired of an extra mouth to feed.” He rubbed his forehead as if the memory hurt.

“When I didn’t have anywhere to stay, I slept in the park. That’s what got me in trouble. Granny caught me one night and gave me what for.”

He smiled for the first time since he arrived. “You knew her. She was a little bit of a woman, not more than five feet tall. But she said she was going to whip my behind if I ever stayed all night in the park again. And she would have done it too.” He chuckled. “Long before it was popular to say it, she believed that it takes a village to raise a kid.”

“I can just hear Granny promising to spank you?” Amy grinned. “What are you about six feet?”

“Yeah. But I saw the fire in her eyes. She meant what she said. From then on she made it her mission to be sure I had food and a warm place to stay. She found a way of doing it without embarrassing me. It was our secret. She never told anyone what she did and neither did I—until now.”

“You cared about her?”

“Loved her.” He cleared his throat.

Amy sighed. Granny must have loved Wyatt. “My biggest regret is Bobby won’t grow up knowing her like we did.”

“He’ll know Granny from you. I bet you’ve got a hundred stories you can tell.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. I might even write stories down for him.” She leaned closer and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks.”

He looked startled, but then he reached out and pulled her into his arms and kissed her, gently at first, then with increased power.

Her fingers entwined in his hair as she opened her mouth to permit his tongue to enter. It flirted with hers.

With his thumbs, he massaged her neck slowly releasing the tension. She let her head fall forward and he moved her hair out of the way and placed kisses on the nape of her neck, sending a shiver of longing through her.

With ease he rotated her so she faced him. He pressed his lips on hers. For a moment there was only the crackle of the fire, his hands to stimulate her, and the sound of her rapid breathing that increased with his continued touch.

“Amy, I missed you these last few weeks. You were in my thoughts because I wanted you near me.”

His warm breath played across her cheek just before his mouth took hers again. She moaned with pleasure. The realization that he longed for her sent hope spiraling in her. She gasped, “Yes.” as he touched her breast and rubbed a nipple to hardness and increased the intensity of his kiss.

Suddenly he pulled away. “I said we’d talk. Only talk.” His voice was husky and his breathing rapid. “You feel so good it’s hard, but I’ll keep my word.”

“I want you Wyatt. You must know I do. With her hand pressed against his chest she felt his heart thundering.

“Yeah.”

“It’s just— I can’t do one nighters. I’m not that kind.” She watched the light from the fire make shadows dance in the room.

“I know.” He ran a gentle hand against her cheek, then moved away.

Suddenly cold, she needed him. Sitting near him tempted her to share the night with him, even if it was just one. She shivered. “I have a responsibility to Bobby. I couldn’t look at you the same way if we—you know. He’d sense things were different between us.” Was she telling Wyatt or did she need to hear the words out loud to give her strength?

“Amy, I’m not pressuring you. Lean back. Let’s enjoy the fire.”

His arms flexed and held her gently to him. She pressed against him, her head on his chest. With a sigh of contentment she closed her eyes.

“Tell me your stories of Granny,” he coaxed.

“Well, I guess my first memory is the day I arrived in Sierra Creek. I came by bus carrying a small suitcase and a ragdoll named Molly tucked under my arm. My mom, like yours, wasn’t cut out for motherhood.” She paused shifted in the seat.

“To be fair, at seventeen my mom left the farm and went off with a man she thought loved her. By eighteen she was on her own, a single mom and overwhelmed by the prospect of raising me alone. She tried for a few years. I’ll give her that.” Amy took a gulp of air. Glad Wyatt continued to hold her gently to him.

“Mom couldn’t support me. But she didn’t want to come back to the farm, so, when I was six she sent me here alone.” A chill ran through her as she remembered. “I’d never met Granny. Of course, I knew she was my grandmother and I was going to live with her and that was that. I was terrified.”

She snuggled closer and he stroked her hair.

“When I got off the bus Granny was waiting for me. She gave me hug and said, ‘Come on baby. You’re home now.’” Amy gulped back a sob.

Moisture filled her eyes. She blinked. Now that she’d started talking about grandmother, she couldn’t seem to stop telling stories about her grandmother’s temperament, her love of the farm, and how Granny adored Grandpa. She shared things that only Wyatt could appreciate.

He listened without a word, an intense expression deepening the lines around his narrowed eyes.

“This is the first time since her death I’ve talked about her without crying.”

With a quick wipe of her eyes, she said, “Tell me your stories.”

As she listened they both laughed and she cried, but it was a good cry. And the whole time he held her.

The embers in the fireplace burned low and dawn was breaking when he left. With a nod and a wave, he walked out of the farmhouse.

When would she see Wyatt again?