A Family In Wyoming. Lynnette Kent
had rusted over the years through lack of use—he didn’t spend much time socializing anymore. To cover his cluelessness, Wyatt went to take a gulp from his own cup, only to find it empty.
That gave him an idea. “We can put these in the dishwasher.” He reached around the door frame and flipped on the dining room light. “It’s this way.”
Susannah followed as he skirted the table and chairs they used for most meals and pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. When the light came on, he heard her gasp.
“What a beautiful room! I’ve never seen such a big kitchen!” As if she’d entered some kind of Wonderland, she wandered around, running a hand along the granite countertops, touching the cabinet doors, the drawer pulls, the edge of the stove. “How lovely it must be to cook here. So much space!” She faced him across the breakfast bar. “Did you build this house?”
He cleared his throat. “Not exactly. The bones were here, but we’ve done some renovating and additions over the years. Dylan’s an artist, so the kitchen was basically his plan, with some help from a company in Sheridan.” A question occurred to him. “Do you enjoy cooking?”
“Very much. You wouldn’t believe it to look at him, but Nate loves to eat. I don’t know how he stays so thin.”
Wyatt opened the front of the dishwasher only far enough to ease the upper rack out part of the way. “Kids use up a lot of energy growing. I remember my brothers did.”
Susannah came over to give him her cup. “He’s certainly been growing—he’s six inches taller this summer than last.”
“Must be hard to keep him in jeans that fit. At least we had hand-me-downs.” The front of the dishwasher rack was full. To pull it out all the way meant letting the door down, but that would require him to bend over to pick it up again—which hurt way more than he was ready to admit. They could just leave the cups in the sink and Garrett would take care of them in the morning...
“Let me,” Susannah said. In one smooth move, she opened the door all the way, stowed the cups, and then shut the dishwasher.
Wyatt felt like a chump. “Thanks.” Even to him, it resembled a growl.
But she didn’t take offense. “You’re welcome.” She leaned a hip against the counter and crossed her arms. “How did you get hurt?”
His face heated in embarrassment. “I was bucked off a young horse. He kicked up just as I threw my leg over, launching me like a rocket. I came down on my... I landed sitting down.”
To his surprise, she chuckled. “I imagine that experience hurt your pride even worse than your back.”
None of his brothers had dared to laugh at him. But her friendly gurgle was such a rich sound that he couldn’t dredge up the least bit of dudgeon. Wyatt grinned. “Could be.”
“Do you still have the horse?”
He nodded. “I’ll break him next summer, when he’s a year older and smarter. Sometimes they have to have more age on them.”
“Meanwhile, you’re going to spend this summer working with young humans, helping them become smarter.”
“So we hope. As the local social worker, Caroline collaborated with Garrett to propose a summer camp for troubled kids on the Circle M and I liked the idea—though I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, wearing this stupid brace.”
He hadn’t shared that hesitation with his brothers or Caroline when they’d discussed their plans. There was something about Susannah Bradley that turned him positively chatty. “I’m not used to spending my days in the house.”
“I wouldn’t expect so.” She yawned suddenly and put up a hand to cover her mouth. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s late. And you’ve had a hard day. You should get some sleep. Anything you need?”
“Nothing at all.” A soft blush colored her face. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to repay your family for giving us refuge—”
Wyatt put up a hand and shook his head. “Don’t even think about it. We’re glad to help. Now go to bed. I’m the boss around here and that’s an order.”
“Yes, sir.” Smiling, she crossed to the hallway door. “You’re very kind,” she said, before she left the kitchen.
Wyatt snorted to himself. Taking care of women and children didn’t fall into the category of “kind,” in his opinion. That was just a man’s responsibility.
Susannah Bradley had obviously encountered a different type of behavior. Wyatt had never met her husband, but he’d heard talk about him around town. Travis Bradley had shown up about a year ago, asking for work at ranches in the area and bragging about his cowboying skills, his rodeo wins. Nobody who’d hired him kept him on for long because he eventually showed up drunk—or didn’t show up at all.
Then Caroline Donnelly had proposed holding a summer camp for at-risk kids on the Circle M Ranch. Nate Bradley was one of those kids, a teenager who’d kept his secrets until tonight. Ford had encountered Nate’s dad at a recent rodeo and then rejected the man when he came looking for a job on the Circle M. Thank goodness he had, since they’d now discovered just how bad Nate’s home life could be when Travis took out his frustrations on his wife and kids.
But the Marshalls, with help from Caroline, would ensure that Travis never hurt his family again. As a lawyer, Ford would use his expertise to keep Bradley at a distance while Susannah figured out her next steps. Surely she had family she and her kids could count on for protection.
Realizing he was a long way from sleep himself, Wyatt poured a new cup of coffee as he considered the situation. Since her family had clearly been of little help to Susannah so far, maybe they wouldn’t take care of her and the kids the way they should now. In that case, she’d have to make her own way somehow, somewhere. But he couldn’t believe she would choose to stay with the man who left those marks on her skin. No woman deserved that kind of abuse. If she didn’t believe that fact, they would have to help her understand.
Returning to the living room, he eased himself into the rocking chair and picked up his book. Slumber didn’t come easily to him these days, since lying down flat in bed hurt his back. So did sitting and standing, but at least he could occupy his mind while he was awake, instead of lying there useless in the dark.
Rather than reading, though, he found himself thinking about Susannah—with more attention to detail than was good for him. That silky hair, those plump lips...long, slender legs under a denim skirt...a straight spine, conveying pride and strength. Graceful, gentle hands, which could comfort a child.
Or pleasure a man.
This time he growled for real, low in his throat. The woman was married. Even if the marriage ended, she’d been treated badly by a man she ought to be able to trust. Why would she take such a risk ever again?
Besides, at the age of thirty-six, Wyatt considered himself a confirmed bachelor, not a prospect for happily-ever-after. Too set in his ways, too busy for romantic nonsense, too cranky to live with young kids. His brothers would testify to his contrary ways. They argued with him about it often enough.
So getting to know Susannah Bradley as anything besides a casual friend would not be wise. He would help her all he could and then send her and her kids on their way to a new, better life. That was the best he could do for them.
And the safest thing he could do for himself.
* * *
EARLIER THAT NIGHT, frantic and ashamed, Susannah had grabbed a nightgown while throwing together some clothes to bring away with her. But she hadn’t realized it was this white one—the one with narrow straps, a low neckline and gossamer fabric that didn’t leave much to the imagination. She’d found it in a thrift shop when they’d lived in South Dakota, about a year after Amber was born. Travis had kept the same job for six months and life seemed to be straightening out, finally.