Читать книгу Twins For The Texan - Charlene Sands - Страница 8
ОглавлениеBrooke wasn’t seated with Wyatt. She sat between two of Heather’s female cousins she’d met once or twice back in college. Two other male cousins and their wives rounded out the table. Everyone was pleasant. The ladies, dressed in florals and pastels appropriate for a late-afternoon wedding, were doing their best to make small talk. Brooke engaged in conversation with them and sipped white wine while giving the entire lakeside reception a cursory scan, keeping her eyes peeled for signs of Wyatt.
During the cocktail hour, she’d spent time with him, munching on appetizers and enjoying Sweetwater Lake until dinner had been called and they’d had to go their separate ways. She sensed that Wyatt had been just as disappointed as she was to discover that not only weren’t they seated together, but their tables were separated by twenty others.
She spotted Wyatt standing just outside the perimeter of the decorated tent, sipping whiskey from a tumbler as he spoke to the groom. The sight of Wyatt shouldn’t have made her heart race, and yet it was sprinting as if in an Olympic event. The two men shook hands and then Blake took off, most likely in search of his bride. Two women took Blake’s place, sidling up next to Wyatt with giddy smiles on their faces.
She felt something possessive deep in her belly. He wasn’t her date, but he seemed to want to spend more time with her, and now it didn’t look as if that was going to happen.
Brooke’s attention snapped back to her table when Connie, the younger of Heather’s cousins, asked her a question. “Yes, I’m enjoying my stay in Texas so far,” Brooke replied. “And I’m happy I was able to attend Heather’s wedding. It was a beautiful ceremony.”
“Heather’s very happy with Blake. He’s one of the good guys.”
“There are so few of those,” Brooke said, recognizing her tone was too cynical for a wedding.
Luckily, Connie chuckled. “I know what you mean. My mama says if you find a good one, land him and never let him go.”
“She’s a smart woman.”
“She should know, she’s been married three times. She kicked two losers to the curb before marrying my daddy. They’ve been married twenty-eight years now.”
“I like your mother more and more.”
“What about your folks?” Connie asked.
“Oh, my biological parents have issues. I don’t see them much, but I was raised by foster parents and they were awesome. Without them, my life wouldn’t be what it is today.”
“So there’s hope out there. I shouldn’t be so skeptical—especially at my cousin’s wedding—but my boyfriend and I have just broken up and it still stings.”
She caught sight of Wyatt finally taking his seat for dinner. “I get the stinging part, Connie. I’ve been there.” More than once. “It gets better, believe me. Just concentrate on what you enjoy doing most. That’s what I do.”
“Heather said you could’ve put this wedding together without blinking an eye.”
“Heather is too kind, but if I lived here, yes, I would’ve loved to work on this event. There’s so much natural beauty that only the fine points need accenting, and the event planner did a terrific job of not going overboard. I would’ve done the same.”
“I guess that’s the reason the inn is perfect for a wedding. It doesn’t need too many added frills.”
Dinner was served, toasts were given and the reception continued on smoothly. Brooke dug into her meal, enjoying the perfectly seasoned and cooked salmon, quinoa salad and freshly grilled veggies. The meal was light and tasty, and after she was finished and her plate was being cleared, a band began to make noises as they set up on a platform stage.
“Excuse me,” she said to the guests at the table. She rose and walked over to the sweetheart table. This was the first chance she’d gotten to congratulate Heather and her new groom. After the ceremony, they’d been inundated by a swarm of well-meaning guests and Brooke hadn’t entered the fray, deciding to bide her time until she could have a quiet conversation with the newlyweds.
“Heather, congratulations!” Brooke’s friend rose and they immediately embraced.
“Brooke, my goodness, I’m so glad you were able to make it to our wedding. Blake,” she said, turning to him, “I’d like you to meet my friend from Los Angeles. We went to UCLA together, back in the day.”
Blake stood up and took her hand. “Nice meeting you, Brooke, and thanks for being here.”
“It’s a special day and I’m glad I could make it. Heather has been trying to get me to make a trip to Texas for years.”
“Oh, yeah? I hope you’re getting a big Texas welcome.”
“I am. Everyone’s been gracious and nice. I’m on vacation, staying with friends in Beckon, so I’ll be here for several more weeks.”
“That’s wonderful,” Heather said. “Maybe we can get together when Blake and I get back from our honeymoon.”
“I’m taking her on a cruise of the Mediterranean. We’ll be gone ten days.”
“Sounds perfect. And I’d love to see you when you return. Heather, you look stunning and it’s not just the gown...you’re glowing. Blake must be doing something right,” Brooke said, giving him a wink.
“You know it.” Blake took Heather’s hand. “I like your friend already.”
“I told you you would,” Heather said.
The master of ceremonies called for the newlyweds’ first dance. “Well, I guess you’re on, you two. Congratulations again. I’ll speak to you later.”
A crowd formed around the parquet dance floor set up under the glorious white tent. Brooke took a position in the outer circle as the two lovebirds danced to a George Strait ballad. The lights were dimmed, and a sole spotlight shone on them like a halo. Heather really was glowing now.
Once the dance was over, there was a round of applause, and the bandleader urged the guests to join the bride and groom on the dance floor. Brooke headed to her table. Before she reached her seat, a man approached. He was in his midforties, she guessed, his tie crooked, his entire body seemingly angled to the left, as if he’d fall over any second. “W-would...you like to d-dance?”
His breath reeked of alcohol. “Uh, no thank you.”
“Just one dance, missy, is all I’m asking.”
“No, thank you,” Brooke said as politely as she could manage. She turned away from him and started for her table again. But he snagged her arm from behind, thick fingers digging deep into her skin. She whirled on him and yanked her arm free. “What part of no don’t you get?” she said quietly. The last thing she wanted was to make a scene at Heather’s wedding.
“You’re a f-feisty little th-thing.” He reached for her again and it was easy to step out of his grasp.
“And you’ve obviously had too much to drink.”
“Is there a problem here?” Wyatt got between her and the pesky man, towering a good six inches above the guy. Wyatt’s glare made it clear he wasn’t one to mess with.
The man leaned way over, nearly toppling, and Wyatt quickly caught him.
“No p-problem. Nope. N-not a one,” he said, chuckling.
“I think you need some air.” Wyatt held the man upright and turned to Brooke, his mouth twisting in a smirk. He winked at her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He escorted—or rather supported—the guy out of the tent and Brooke returned to her seat. The man was probably harmless, but Brooke didn’t like being manhandled that way. She’d been ready to raise her voice and call security, which would’ve dampened the festive mood. Once again, Wyatt was there, stepping in to save the day.
A quiet hum strummed through her body and she smiled.
“That’s weird Uncle Hal,” Connie said into her ear as Brooke lowered down into the chair beside her. “I caught some of what happened out there and my whole family apologizes to you.” Connie made a face. “Hal likes to drink...when the liquor is free. Heather almost didn’t invite him to the wedding. She was afraid he’d cause a scene. But he seems to have been neutralized.”
“Neutralized?”
“Yeah, once he’s been set straight, he doesn’t cause any more trouble. He’ll probably come over to say he’s sorry.”
“I hope not.” Brooke shivered.
“Who was that hunk who took him outside?”
“Oh, um, he’s a friend of the groom’s. I met him earlier today.”
“Does he have a younger brother, if you know what I mean?”
Brooke sighed. “Yeah, I do know what you mean. And honestly, I don’t know.”
* * *
“You’re three for three, Wyatt,” Brooke said.
Wyatt held her at arm’s length as they danced to a light and breezy love song. His touch, though highly appropriate, thrilled her from head to toe. There was something steady and sturdy about him. He made her feel female, which seemed silly, but those deep blue eyes studied her with keen intent, as if she were a secret art treasure or a delicious hot fudge sundae. Either way, she was happy to be the object of his attention.
“How’s that?” he asked.
“You saved me thrice, my lord,” she said with a mock curtsy. “The last time with big Uncle Hal.”
He laughed. “You were handling the situation just fine.”
“You think so?”
“I do. But I also saw the indecision on your face. Where I come from, a man doesn’t lay a hand on a woman ’less he’s invited. When he didn’t back down I figured you didn’t want to make a scene.”
“You’re right about that. I don’t like to draw attention to myself.”
He drew her closer and spoke into her ear softly, “Then you shouldn’t have worn that dress.”
His gaze dipped past the lace on her scooped neckline and touched upon her breasts. From under the material, her nipples tightened. Wyatt could do that to her with one look.
“You don’t like it?” she asked, a little uncertain. “Or was that a compliment?”
Emma, her bestie, business partner and sister-in-law, was always telling her to put some color in her wardrobe, but black was her thing. She wasn’t a floral kind of girl.
“Every guy in this place has his sights set on you. And I’m the one dancing with you.” Appreciation shone in his eyes and she almost forgot all about Royce what’s-his-name. “I like it, all right.”
“Thank you.”
“Welcome.” His hands snaked around her waist, and the space between them lessened to inches. Brooke wasn’t complaining. He smelled like whiskey and something woodsy and natural. She took deep breaths of him, drinking in his scent and enjoying the way his dark blond hair curled at his collar.
“I have a confession,” he said in a quiet rasp. “I’m glad your car ran out of gas today.”
Something broke apart inside her then, and her cynicism crumbled away. At least for the present, she wasn’t going to question her actions. Or his. This perfect guy seemed to come straight out of her dreams, and she wasn’t going to play it safe tonight. Not with Wyatt. She brought her fingers to the curls at the back of his neck and smiled, titling her chin up. Her eyes had to be gleaming now. “I’m glad, too,” she said.
Wyatt’s gaze heated. Thrills ran up and down her spine as she waited for him to do something bold, something daring.
He brought his head closer, never losing eye contact with her. “Are you inviting me?” he said, but he didn’t wait for her answer. The connection they had was real and happening fast. He had to feel it, too.
His lips brushed hers softly, once, twice. Shock waves traveled the length of her body. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed this, how much she’d missed the simple reality of connecting with a man on an elemental level. The pure masculine taste of him washed completely through her, and a soft purr escaped her lips. She kissed him back and things got hot and heavy really fast. He cupped the back of her head, weaving fingers through her long, wild hair. “Oh, man,” he murmured, pressing his lips more forcefully to hers, making exquisite demands on her. Demands she was eager to answer.
Was it lust? She’d been attracted to Wyatt from the second she’d laid her eyes on him. And now he was kissing her as if he’d been starving, and let’s face it, she hadn’t even nibbled in a very long time. Now she was ravenous.
Wyatt broke off the kiss before things got completely out of control on the dance floor and sighed loud enough for her to hear his frustration. Her ego was lifted to new heights as he tugged her tightly into his embrace, pressing their bodies closer. The slow ballad continued, but she barely heard the music. All she knew, all she felt, was her connection to Wyatt. They were so close, so incredibly in tune with each other.
Tension sizzled between them in a crazy way that upset her newly regained balance. She wasn’t ready for this, for him. But when the dance ended and he stared into her eyes, she was lost.
“Let’s get some air, darlin’.”
She gave him a tiny nod, and he grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the edge of the draped tent that led to the lake.
Soft blades of grass tickled her ankles as Wyatt wove a path to the bank of Sweetwater Lake. Moonlight reflected off the rippling waters now, the sun having long ago bid farewell to the day. The air was still damp with humidity, but since sunset the temperature had cooled considerably. They stood facing the lake.
“Better,” he said, taking gulps of air into his lungs. “It got a little heavy in there.”
He dropped her hand, seeming to compose himself.
“It did.”
“You surprised me, is all,” he said, looking away from the lake to connect with her again. “I mean, I didn’t expect...”
“I know. I’m different.” He didn’t have to say it. He didn’t expect to be attracted to her. “I’m no Texas girl. I dress weird most of the time. Believe it or not, I toned it down for the wedding.” No leather wrist bracelets, giant hoop earrings or multiple long chains around her neck for this shindig. As a matter of fact, she’d left most of that stuff back home in LA. Maybe she was entering a new phase in her life.
“I like your style, Brooke. There’s nothing weird about you.”
“Thanks for that.”
“I mean it. When I saw you with Uncle Hal on the dance floor, I had an irrational urge to knock his block off.”
“Is that equivalent to punching his lights out?”
“It is,” he stated plainly.
“Why, Wyatt, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” She stood toe-to-toe with him, grinning. It felt good to break the tension and get back to easy conversation with him.
He laughed loud and deep and she joined in, too.
“I like you, Brooke,” he said easily.
“Feeling’s mutual,” Brooke said. “Isn’t that how they say it out here?”
“Stop poking fun at Texans.” Wyatt’s eyes twinkled. “We’re a proud lot.”
“I’ve heard as much.”
A wicked Texas breeze blew strands of hair into her face.
With his finger, Wyatt innocently pushed a barrel curl resting on her cheek behind her ear. From the second his finger glided across her skin, the ridiculous yearning reared up again, putting a halt to their pleasant banter. Her laughter died in her throat, and as she focused on the man touching her tenderly, his smile changed into something less animated and playful. He gazed at her with dire want, his eyes dipping down to her pursed and needy mouth.
“Brooke,” he rasped. There was a distinct hitch in his voice.
“It’s okay, Wyatt,” she said. Whatever he wanted, she was ready for.
A groan rose from his throat and he began shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. Brooke was in the same boat. They were sailing along at breakneck speed. She wasn’t about to throw down the anchor; she wanted the wind at her back taking her wherever this was leading.
Wyatt wrapped one of his hands firmly around her waist, his fingers inching her closer, while he lifted her chin to meet his beautiful giving mouth with the other. The kiss was sweeter, more leisurely than before. She instantly felt safe with Wyatt; it wasn’t about his saving her from empty gas tanks or pesky older men. It was something more, something she’d never experienced before. Utter trust.
The little voice in her head said, It’s because he doesn’t know who you really are.
But that wasn’t it. A Texas rancher couldn’t care less about her being a celebrity’s sister. Wyatt had no agenda in that regard, and this uncanny faith she had in him came from a deeper, more soulful place within her.
Only seconds later, Wyatt whispered a curse over her lips and deepened the kiss, making it hard for Brooke to think straight. Helpless to curtail the sizzling connection between them, she flung her arms around his neck and his kisses immediately became inferno hot. Her lips were on fire, set ablaze by this amazingly strong, gorgeous man. He walked her backward until she met with the solid breadth of a cottonwood tree. She leaned against it, out of view of the wedding tent and the two hundred other guests.
He urged her mouth open and their tongues tangled. Explosive sensations rocked her back and a potent stream of desire coursed through her body, making her feel more alive than she’d felt in a long, long time. Wyatt had her trapped, his arms on either side of the thick tree. There wasn’t any place else she’d rather be.
He brought his arms down to cup her face and tilted her head at an angle that was to his liking. His kiss was more deliberate this time, packed with intensity and precision. Oh, he was a yummy kisser.
He began an exploration of her body with both hands grazing her shoulders and traveling down her sides, along the inward curve of her torso and caressing the slight flare of her hips. She could tell he wanted to touch her in more intimate places but his keen sense of propriety wouldn’t allow it. She wanted more, but couldn’t deny how incredibly sweet and sensitive he was to her.
They came up for air a minute later, both shaking, both completely turned on. The music inside the tent stopped and the bandleader’s gleeful voice carried over the microphone, announcing it was time for the bride and groom to cut the cake.
“Brooke.” He whispered her name on a sigh and touched his forehead to hers, his warm breath caressing her cheek. “We should really go back inside.”
“Mmm.” He was right, of course, but how on earth would she stop her legs from trembling, her body from quivering? “I think so, too.”
“You go first,” he said, encouraging her with a nod. “I’ll need a minute. Oh, and be sure to save the last dance for me.”
She straightened her disheveled dress, took a swallow, steadied her out-of-whack nerves and then headed up the embankment toward the tent. Halfway there, she swiveled her head around to find Wyatt’s discerning eyes still on her.
She turned to continue her trek, purring with quiet delight like a kitten lapping up a bowl of rich cream.
* * *
“Here you go,” Wyatt said so quietly she barely heard him. He set her luggage down outside her hotel room door as she slid the key card into the lock.
“Thank you,” she said, turning to him. “I, um, had a great time tonight. The wedding was pretty cool.”
“I had a good time, too. Thanks to you.”
She stared at him, quaking inside. She didn’t want to make another mistake. But looking into Wyatt’s eyes, she didn’t believe him to be one. “You give me too much credit.”
“I don’t think so. I was dreading coming here today. And then I met you.”
She blinked. He had a way of saying the right things. He wasn’t a clever charmer, but he was charming. And he was a gentleman, in every way that counted. “Why were you dreading it?”
Pain entered his eyes. “Let’s just say I’m new to bachelorhood and leave it at that.”
“Oh.” She got that. She didn’t want to rehash her past relationships, either. One of the best parts of meeting Wyatt tonight was not having to think about the Royce Brisbanes of the world. She was fine with forgetting all about her own lousy relationships. “Okay.”
Wyatt tilted his head. “You’re not like most women.”
“That doesn’t sound like a compliment, Wyatt.”
“Believe me, it is. Most women want to nose around and fix what’s broken, but I’m not into that right now.”
He was broken? Now that was a revelation, because from where she stood all of his parts seemed to be in excellent working order. “Wyatt,” she said softly. She didn’t want him to leave. Gosh, how she didn’t want to say good-night to him.
“I’d better get to my room.”
She didn’t miss the reluctance in his voice. “Okay. Thanks for being my miracle cowboy today.”
He blinked, seemingly surprised at her comment.
She smiled and lifted up on tiptoes to brush a soft kiss to his cheek.
He kissed her back, a gentle peck on the mouth. “Welcome.”
She loved the taste of him, the way he smelled, the sturdy breadth of him.
He gazed at her mouth, his eyes holding a lingering dark gleam as if he wanted more. As if he wanted to devour her. The bone-melting effect reached all the way down to the tips of her toes. If he touched her again, she would be lost.
And then he did just that. He splayed his hands on her waist and drew her closer. “I need one more kiss, Brooke.”
His rich baritone voice did crazy things to her, especially when he was asking to kiss her again. Oh, man. “Anything you need.” Her voice was a breathless whisper.
And then their mouths came together in an amazing onslaught of potency and possession. Heat immediately rose up and flared like a lit match. It was as if everything fell into place again. His hands wound tighter around her waist. Her arms wrapped around his neck. Their lips smacked, and moans and sweet sighs of pleasure surrounded them.
“Take it inside, you two,” a passerby said, chuckling as he headed down the hallway, obviously having had one too many.
“Good idea,” Wyatt stated softly over her lips.
“Yes, Wyatt. Yes.”
With one hand, he pushed the heavy door open and then lifted her luggage and plunked it down just inside the room. Then the door closed behind him and they were alone in the dark hotel room.
“Just tell me you want this,” he said, bracing her against the wall.
“I want this.”
“God, Brooke. You’re the one who’s the miracle.”
It was the sweetest, most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to her. She squeezed her eyes closed briefly and drank it all in. She drank him all in, too. His kisses set her body on fire, and now that they were out of the public eye, they were free to unleash their passion full force.
“I need to touch you,” he whispered.
“Touch me.”
His palms traveled over the slopes and curves of her body. His hands were large and rough, but he was gentle in his approach, making her want him all the more. He lifted her leg up under the knee, and she gasped as he slid his hand under the tight confines of her dress, stroking her thigh back and forth, over and over. “You’re soft,” he murmured between kisses. His body pressed to hers was a wall of granite, so big and hard, and she was overwhelmed with sensation after sensation. Between her thighs, pulsing heat gathered and her breaths came in short, rapid bursts.
He lowered her leg to the floor and flipped her around to face the wall, her back to his front. He probed her backside, skimming his hands over black lace. Through the material of her dress, the heat of his palms scorched her skin and she sighed, surrendering her body to him.
Finally, he inched the zipper of her dress down. She felt the cooling fresh air on her skin as he pushed her dress away. Planting kisses on her shoulders, he undid her bra and then reached around to cup her breasts. He filled his hands, massaging and caressing her until she could barely stand the pleasure, tiny moans escaping her lips.
He skimmed his hands down her torso and back up again, navigating her body as if he were exploring points on a map. “You’re soft everywhere.”
She loved the quiet words he spoke over her shoulder and the way he held her so preciously. She breathed in the aroused scent of him as he reclaimed her aching breasts, his body pressed to hers, fully aroused, his scent intoxicating.
“We need to move this onto the bed,” he said. “Unless you like—”
“No, the bed is fine,” she managed.
He helped her remove the remainder of her clothes and then lifted her into his strong arms. He carried her to the turned-down bed and laid her there carefully.
Without saying a word, he kicked off his shoes and undressed for her, undoing his string tie, removing his jacket, shirt, belt and pants.
From what she could see from the sliver of moonlight streaming into the window, Wyatt met and exceeded her expectations. God, he was glorious above the waist, with brick shoulders and hard abs. And below, well, she took a huge gulp. He was definitely all man.
“Don’t ask me why,” he said, quite earnestly, “but I have protection.”
“That’s a relief,” she said softly. “I don’t.”
She hadn’t exactly planned on hitting the jackpot tonight, but she thought it odd that he would be apologizing for carrying protection. He’d said he was new to bachelorhood. She assumed he was divorced, yet she needed to ask. “Wyatt, just tell me one thing. You’re not married, are you?”
He stared into her eyes for a beat of a second and then shook his head. “No, I can promise you that.”
Relief took on a new meaning with that promise. “Then, as much as I like looking at you, I’d like to touch, too.”
He sighed, perhaps equally relieved. “Absolutely, darlin’.”
* * *
The first time Wyatt made love to her, it was an exploration of newness. They were careful with each other as she learned what he liked, while he provided what she wanted. There was heat and pleasure and a development of trust. She did trust Wyatt. She knew he wouldn’t abuse her in any way; he was far too much of a gentleman for that. But now, after a short respite, Wyatt was pulling her atop him, kissing her senseless again, and this time both of their guards were down.
“I want you again.” The urgent plea tore from his throat.
“I’m here,” she whispered, climbing up his body and giving him access to her breasts.
“I’m glad you are,” he said, tickling her nipple with the tip of his tongue. Both peaks pebbled up immediately, and wild stirrings began at the apex of her thighs.
Wyatt was the best lover she’d ever had. He could take her from zero to ninety with just a heated look or a bold caress. And he was doing just that with exquisite strokes of his tongue on her breast, the full circle of his mouth drawing her out, making every nerve ending ping and jump.
When he was through making her squirm in delight, he moved down her body, his hand gliding past her waist and his fingers tucking into her sensitive folds. He knew exactly how to caress her. He knew where she needed to be stroked and oh, he was merciless. She cried out, the pleasure so exquisite it was almost painful. Electric sensations rocked her back and forth until she could barely take it another second.
“Kiss me,” he ordered, and she obeyed.
And just as their tongues met, her body splintered apart, the amazing orgasm rocketing through her body with enough force to jerk her off the bed. She came down panting, the effects of her release almost mystifying her until she opened her eyes and saw Wyatt staring at her, his darkened gaze hot as fired metal.
He rolled her over onto her back and lifted her hips, positioning her. And then he was inside her again, this time without hesitation. He began thrusting, his erection hard and thick, pulsing with new life. He moved deeper and harder and brought her to the brink of insanity once more. “Come with me this time,” he rasped, his throat thick.
And they moved together, arching, aching, a beautiful joining of bodies in complete sync with each other. And when she was primed and eager and staring into his eyes, he tipped his head in acknowledgment. He knew she was ready. Then they rose up and bucked and cried out, her sighs meeting his groans. Her body shattered, just as his came apart.
It was glorious.
She was in heaven.
And she stayed up there awhile before slowly easing down.
Her limbs were weightless now. She felt like a sated rag doll, too limp to move. Wyatt scooped her up in his strong arms and surrounded her with his hot, perfect body. He kissed her cheeks, wove his fingers through her hair.
“Brooke,” he whispered over her lips.
“Mmm.” She’d never been happier. Or more tired.
“Sleep, darlin’.”
“Sorry, can’t help it.”
“It’s okay,” he said.
Wrapped up in his arms, she closed her eyes.
* * *
Wyatt opened his eyes to a dawn that had long ago broken through the shuttered windows of Brooke’s hotel room, streaming bright light inside. The digital clock read eight o’clock and he cursed silently as he untangled himself carefully from Brooke. His heart thumped in his chest as he glanced down at her, looking so peaceful, her eyes closed, that mane of raven hair falling down her back. His body strummed to life again, but he had no time to indulge or to say goodbye to Brooke. No time to look into those pretty brown eyes or hear the sultry tone of her voice.
He should’ve been on the road an hour ago. He was late, and he’d made Henrietta a promise. He couldn’t take advantage of her good nature. Weekends were precious to her.
“Dammit,” he muttered as he scrambled to step into his clothes. He hated leaving this way. There was a reason widowers shouldn’t have one-night stands. He was out of his element here. He had seconds to make a decision and God only knew if it was the right one, but time was wasting. He scribbled a note to Brooke and left it on the nightstand.
He had nothing to offer Brooke. He was still in love with Madelyn and he had no room for another woman in his life. Not that Brooke seemed to want anything but this one night together. She hadn’t asked him a bunch of questions the way women tended to do, and she hadn’t hinted at anything more. She was vacationing in Texas and had a life and a business on the West Coast.
The thoughts crowded his mind as he gave her one last glance.
He’d be forever grateful to her for this night. Brooke had helped him get through a tough day and they’d had a good time.
Actually, they’d had multiple good times during the evening.
End of story.
He walked to the door, not surprised by the regret burning a hole in his stomach. He didn’t usually walk out on women. But he couldn’t stay, either. It was better this way. For her. For both of them.
He turned the doorknob and strode out of the room, leaving Brooke and the Inn at Sweetwater behind.
More than an hour later he’d reached the gates of Blue Horizon Ranch. He was home, back where he belonged. But he’d thought about Brooke most of the way and he’d cursed his best friend, Johnny Wilde, for practically daring him to go to the wedding. Now he had guilt. And memories he couldn’t wash from his mind.
Was he a fool to think he was betraying his late wife by enjoying himself with another woman? Johnny would certainly think so. But then, what did he know? He’d been with too many women to count and he’d never found the right one, while Wyatt had met the love of his life and had married her. For that short time—only five years—they’d had together, he’d been happier than he thought possible.
And now he had his precious twins to think about.
He parked the car in front of the house and gave it a quick glance, just as a wave of pain jabbed his gut. He’d never quite gotten over the fact that Madelyn wouldn’t be here, greeting him after a trip. That her birthday had come and gone yesterday and there would be no more sweet kisses between them, no emerald sparks of joy in her eyes when he surprised her with a gift. “Sorry, Maddy.”
That day nine months ago had ripped his gut in two. Seeing the sheriff at his front door, hat in hand, his face solemn. Madelyn’s had an accident. I’m sorry, Mr. Brandt.
Wyatt shook off the memory. He had to get his ass inside the house. Henrietta’s youngest niece was coming to help him with the twins, so Henrietta could spend the weekend camping in their fifth wheel camper up at the river. Ralph, her husband, wasn’t a patient man. He’d been pressing her to retire, and she’d promised him she would as soon as Wyatt found a suitable nanny for the twins. Henrietta was as loyal as they came, and she was good with his kids, but she was exhausted lately. He’d catch her rubbing at her back and taking short naps in those rare times when the twins were both asleep. She’d been here since his folks lived at the ranch, and she was more like family than the help. Clearly, she didn’t want to leave Wyatt in the lurch without someone he trusted to care for his children, but the search wasn’t going well.
He entered his house and stood in the foyer, listening for baby sounds. “I’m home,” he said quietly, just in case Brett and Brianna were napping. And then he heard their voices coming from the great room, which substituted now as a giant playroom, and strode in that direction. His heart warmed immediately when he spotted his kids. The twins were toddling around on the floor, paying Carly no mind as she read them their favorite book, Goodnight Moon.
“Hi, Carly,” he said to the teenager.
“Oh, hi,” she said, glancing at him through her black-rimmed glasses.
At the sound of his voice, Brett, who was scooting a Lego truck along the hardwood floor, and Brianna, who was clutching her doll, abandoned their toys, flapped their arms excitedly and toddled over to him, their smiles lighting him up inside. He scooped both twins up in his arms. “Hello, my babies.”
He gave each a kiss on the cheek.
Brianna was more vocal than little Brett. “Daddy! Home. Daddy kisses.”
Brett stared at his sister first and then hugged Wyatt around the neck. Nothing was sweeter. Nothing helped his healing more than their unconditional love. He was constantly enveloped in sadness thinking that Madelyn would never know her children. And that his twins had been cheated out of a wonderful mother.
Henrietta walked into the room. Her sturdy build and cinnamon red hair piled in a tight bun atop her head gave her the appearance of a stern woman, but nothing was further from the truth. She was an old softy at heart. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, feeling like a heel.
“Not a problem, Wyatt. I hope you had a nice time at the wedding.”
An image of Brooke Johnson, naked and asleep in the bed he’d just left, popped into his head. “I did. It was good to see Blake again.”
“That’s nice. My Ralph is on his way. Carly’s been here, playing with the kids. She’ll help with feeding them later, and getting them down for their naps. I’ve got the weekend’s meals ready for you in the fridge.”
“Thanks, Etta.”
Carly stood, picking up a few toys from the floor as she rose. “I can stay overnight if you need me to, Mr. Brandt.”
“Thanks, Carly. Let’s see how the day goes. I might just need you to come back tomorrow, if you can.”
“I can do that, too,” she said.
“Okay, great.” Wyatt set the kids down and squatted onto the floor next to them. It was a tough balancing act, being in charge of a huge ranch corporation and being Daddy to his children. But he couldn’t let them down. They needed the stability of having him here most of the time, knowing that they came first, no matter what.
After Madelyn’s death, he’d relied heavily on Henrietta for support with the kids. But if he didn’t find a suitable nanny soon, old Ralph would march in here one day and threaten to knock his block off...with a shotgun.
He had three interviews with potential nannies later this week.
He could only hope.
