Allison B. Collins - Falling For The Rebel Cowboy

The boy patted Sadie one last time and walked to the door, dragging his feet and looking as if Santa and the Easter Bunny had just crossed him off their nice lists.

Wyatt squashed the guilty feelings down deep. Sure, he had nephews and a niece, but what did he really know about kids? The boys had been born while he’d been gone, so he was still trying to get to know them.

But a guest’s kid? Not his pint of beer.

They reached the lodge and Wyatt took him inside to the day care, made sure Mrs. Dailey had him in hand, then retraced his path to the barn.

As he walked inside, he checked on Sadie, and damned if she didn’t look like she was frowning at him.

Grabbing the wrench off the seat, he went back to working on the tractor in peace. He settled back in to work, losing himself in the task of stripping the engine bare to find the source of the problem.

Sometime later he surfaced as a scuff quietly echoed, the noise sending goose bumps prickling along his back. The sound transported him back to a time when he’d been helpless, no defense other than his fists against men bigger than him.

He gripped the wrench tighter and casually reached for the hammer with his free hand. No one would ever take him by surprise again.

He jerked around, weapons raised, scanning for the intruder. His eyes searched the shadows until Sadie gave a soft woof, and he moved enough to see her and Johnny staring at him. How had the kid made it all the way inside the barn making so little sound?

“What are you doing back here?”

“I dunno,” Johnny said, his arms going around Sadie’s neck.

“You can’t keep running off like that, kid. Mrs. Dailey will get upset, and your mom...well, let’s just say I don’t want to see her bad side.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind,” Wyatt said, setting the tools down on the wheel of the tractor and pulling his phone out of his pocket. He dialed the day care lady and asked for Frankie’s—Francine’s, he corrected—phone number.

Entering the number on his phone, he texted her to say Johnny was down at the barn, and wouldn’t stay in day care.

A few minutes later, he received a text that she’d be right there. Not more than five minutes later, she came running into the barn, once again wearing fancy shoes. On a ranch.

“John Allen Wentworth. Why did you leave the day care?”

“I don’t like it there.”

“Are the other kids mean to you?” He hadn’t thought about that being the cause of Johnny not wanting to stay put.

The kid shook his head. “I want to stay here. With Sadie.” He buried his face in the dog’s shoulder.

Francine turned to Wyatt. “I don’t understand why he’s doing this. I’m sorry.”

Wyatt studied Johnny. “Maybe he just doesn’t like people? I can take ’em or leave ’em sometimes myself.”

She stepped closer to him. “He’s really shy. But he’s never disobeyed me like this before. I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry he’s getting in your way.”

“You okay if he stays here with me?” His words surprised himself. Surprised Miss New York as well, if the look on her face was right.

“I don’t want to burden you.”

He thought about it. “I’m just working on the tractor today.” The kid needed to have some fun, and if he was going to keep wandering around, at least Johnny could hang around the barn so Wyatt could keep an eye on him.

She hesitated.

“Look, I know you don’t know me—”

She shook her head. “That’s not it. If you’re sure you don’t mind. I’ll be down to pick him up as soon as the meeting is over later today. You’ve got my phone number, right?”

He nodded.

“I really appreciate it.” She looked at her watch. “I need to get back. John Allen, you can stay here, but you mind Mr. Sullivan, okay? You do what he says and don’t go anywhere, you hear me?” She kissed the top of her son’s head.

The kid bounced up and down. “I’ll be good. Promise!” He raced back to Sadie and sat down next to her.

“Thank you, Mr. Sullivan. I appreciate it.”

“Wyatt.”

Her nose crinkled. “What?”

“I’m Wyatt, Miz Wentworth.”

“Oh, yes. Call me Francine. Thanks again. I’ll see you later.”

Wyatt watched her hurry up the path to the lodge until she disappeared through the doors. Must be hard for her to raise a child on her own and have to work. Kade had been doing it, but at least they lived here at the ranch, with plenty of family around to help out when he needed it.

He got back to work on the tractor but checked on Johnny every few minutes.

“Mister, how come you’re taking that apart?”

Johnny’s words startled him, and he looked down at the kid staring up at him. “It stopped working.”

“You know how to fix stuff?”

Wyatt nodded. He might not be good with reading, but he’d always had a knack for anything mechanical.

“Will you teach me?”

“Why?”

“Why not?” Johnny shrugged.

“You got any old clothes you can change into?”

Johnny shook his head.

“Any play clothes that can get dirty, and your mom won’t care?”

“Play clothes?”

What was with Francine, that the kid didn’t have something to play in, to be a little boy in? Her suit yesterday probably cost more than three months’ pay, but her boy didn’t have jeans and a T-shirt? Surely he didn’t wear pressed clothes and dress shoes every day?

“How old are you?”

Johnny held up four fingers.

Wyatt pulled his phone out again and called Kade. “You still have any of Toby’s old clothes from when he was about four?”

“Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“Got someone here who needs to borrow them.”

“No problem. They’re in the spare room at my place. Help yourself.”

Wyatt pressed the end call button. “Okay, kid. Let’s go. I think we can find something for you to wear.”

Kade’s cabin was closest to the lodge and outbuildings, and it wasn’t too cold out, so Wyatt bundled Johnny into his own denim jacket and rolled the sleeves up, then they set off walking the short distance.

He let them into the cabin, and they headed upstairs to the spare room. Although, when he opened the door to the room, he changed that to junk room. A stack of canvases lined one wall, and the boxes Kade had mentioned were stacked on two more walls, each one neatly marked. He looked closer and saw the year had been added to each one, along with a list of the contents. Following the system his anal-retentive brother used, it was easy to find the box with Toby’s clothes from when he was four.

He pulled the box down and opened it, then dug through it to find several white T-shirts, pint-size Western shirts and miniature denim jeans and jackets. Holding the jeans up to Johnny, he figured they’d fit, even if the cuffs had to be rolled up some. Digging into the box farther, he found small cowboy boots and socks. Another box yielded several old cowboy hats.

“What do you think? Wanna wear a hat, too?”

Johnny’s eyes lit up, rivaling Fourth of July sparklers. “Really? Yeah! Thanks, mister!”

“Call me Wyatt,” he said, feeling old, even though he was only in his late twenties.

Johnny beamed. “Thanks, Mr. Wyatt!”

“Let’s get you changed and get back to work, okay?”

The kid grinned and unbuttoned his blue shirt, then pulled on the T-shirt and a brown Western shirt.

“So do you go to school yet?”

Johnny nodded.

“Let me guess. You’re in college, right? Graduating soon?”

Johnny giggled. “No, sir. I go to preschool.” He grinned, and Wyatt noticed a gap where he’d lost a tooth.

“What do you do for fun?”

The kid cocked his head. “Um, piano lessons.”