The Outlaw by Jennifer Millikin

9

Jo

"I wishyou would've recorded it," Shelby says, taking a bite of the pasta she picked up on her way home from work.

"Me too. It was quite a sight." I sit down beside her on the couch, a plate balanced on my hand. "I've never seen Jared act like that."

"He was posturing. Marking his territory."

"But why?"

Shelby stares at me. "Have you seen Wyatt?"

I roll my eyes. "Once or twice, yes."

"Then I don't need to explain why."

"Jared doesn't have anything to be worried about," I say around a bite.

"Maybe not." She shrugs. "But strictly from a biological standpoint, there was one superior male there today, and it wasn't Jared."

I pause with a forkload of pasta. "Thanks," I say dryly. "I'll be sure I don't mention that to him."

Shelby laughs. "You know what I mean. Animal kingdom, nature, yada yada."

"Want to hear something interesting?"

"Always."

"Wyatt was working with his shirt off today."

Shelby pauses mid-chew. "I'm guessing you didn't record that either."

I reach over and wipe sauce from her upper lip. "I thought you didn't like him?"

"I don't like him, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the gifts God gave him."

I laugh. "I think you might be insane. Or really hard up."

She nods, agreeing with both, and keeps eating. "What are you going to do about Jared?"

"What's there to do? I already explained to him that he won't be telling me to do anything." He was embarrassed I caught him saying that. I think he let the blatantly obvious pissing contest get the best of him.

I told him I'd eat dinner with Shelby, because I already promised her I would, and that I'd be over later. He apologized for how he acted when he saw Wyatt, and I explained Wyatt wasn't going anywhere for quite a while. I could tell he wasn't happy about that, and he didn't understand it, but I'm not going to air Wyatt's dirty laundry just to make Jared feel better.

I'm standingin front of the copper patina Circle B sign, playing around with new names for the ranch. I haven't landed on the right one yet. I need something unassuming. I don't want to be basic and obvious, like Jo's Ranch for At-Risk Youth. The point is to be a place where these kids want to go, not rub their noses in their mistakes.

I study the list of possible names I've written down in my notebook, my thumb skimming the page. Maybe I'll show it to Dakota later and see what she thinks.

I head back over to the trailer and check my phone. Dakota should be here any minute, and Wyatt too. I texted him last night asking if he could come back. I had a giant Dumpster delivered early this morning after seeing the pile Wyatt had going. We need to transfer it all into the oversized bin before they come back for it. I've also called the numbers Dakota gave me, and have meetings over the next few days to get some estimates from a general contractor. I have plenty of ideas, and very little money, but I at least need to know what I'm getting myself into. At the very least, I need to make the main house livable enough for Travis to come and live with me if he wants to.

Dakota pulls in, and Wyatt's in the truck behind her. He waves hello to me, then goes to help Dakota get Colt out of the car. Instead of handing the baby to his mom, Wyatt keeps him. He strides away, his head close to Colt's head, and he's talking to him.

Dakota watches them with open affection as she comes my way. "He's a bit of a baby hog. Nobody has a chance if Wyatt's around." She drops a diaper bag at her feet. "You wouldn't believe the amount of stuff a tiny person needs."

I remember it all from when Travis was a baby. How often his diaper needed changing, and trying various ointments to help with his diaper rash. I don't mention it to Dakota though. She knows I spent two years with Travis before my mom moved away, but I haven't told her how involved I was in his day-to-day care.

I study Wyatt with Colt. He dips his face down, talking softly about who knows what. I've seen Wyatt in various situations over the years, but watching him care for an infant is probably the sexiest thing I've ever seen him do. And he doesn't even know he's doing it.

I groan silently as I recognize the first breath of my old crush awakening. Growing legs. Standing up from the place I banished it to. Stretching.

Absolutely not. I told Jared he has nothing to worry about and I meant it. Those old feelings are nothing but memories, so I push them down, turning away from the sight of Wyatt holding a baby.

"I figured it out,” Dakota whispers.

"Figured out what?" I stage-whisper back.

"The person you slept with in Phoenix was Wyatt."

My stomach tightens. "I-I… Please don't tell anybody."

Dakota reaches for me. "Of course not. But if I'm remembering our conversation from back then correctly, you said he doesn't remember, right?"

I nod. Tears prick at the backs of my eyes. I feel stupid. I turn away so Dakota doesn't see me, and the feeling passes.

"You really care about him, don't you?" Her tone is kind. The lack of pity makes me feel better.

"Cared. Past tense. I'm over him."

"Sure, of course. You're dating Jared now."

"Right. And he's—"

"Good and nice?"

I give her a dirty look. "Stop."

"I'm sorry, it was too easy."

I shake my head and allow a small smile. I don't tell her those words were about to come out of my mouth.

Wyatt brings Colt back to Dakota. "He's rooting," he informs Dakota.

Dakota grins proudly at Wyatt, then turns to me to explain. “Last night I taught him what rooting means. Wes and I stopped by the homestead for Juliette's pie."

"There wasn't enough, but that didn't stop you," Wyatt grumbles playfully.

Dakota takes Colt from Wyatt. "Wyatt thinks he's the only person who likes cherry pie," she teases, elbowing Wyatt. He doubles over, pretending to be injured.

I've never seen this side of Wyatt. Bantering with family, being an uncle. It paints him in a different light and makes me uncomfortable. I need him to be an asshole, so I can operate firmly in the safe world of being over him.

Dakota pulls a cover from her bag, slipping it over her head and covering Colt, almost like an apron. She reaches under the fabric, adjusting her top, and peeks down to look at the baby. The cover must be for Wyatt's benefit, because she has nursed in front of me before. "So listen, Jo," Dakota starts, while Colt's happily eating. "I think your last day at The Orchard should be sometime soon."

"What? No. I'm on the schedule all next week." Not to mention my savings account was recently bled dry so I could put money down on this place, and my checking account isn't exactly flush with cash.

Dakota gestures out. "This should be your priority. It's your dream."

She's right, but also… food. Shelter. "I need the money, Dakota. Fixing this place up isn't going to come cheap."

She nods. "I understand, believe me. You can work at The Orchard for as long as you need."

After Colt's finished, Dakota takes Wyatt through the place, pointing out things we talked about yesterday and put on our list. She takes off after that, saying she needs to get back to go over the wine order at the restaurant, and it's just Wyatt and me.

"Ready to get started?" Wyatt asks, slipping his hands into work gloves.

I stretch out my fingers and look down at my bare hands. "Um, yeah. I just need to run into town quickly. I'm sure the Merc carries—"

"No need." Wyatt walks to his truck and reaches into the bed, coming away with a second set of gloves.

They'll be too big for me, but I don't mention it. "Thanks," I say, taking them. A tag dangles from the outer edge.

Size small. Definitely not Wyatt's size. I tell myself they're probably his little sister Jessie's, but in my heart I know they're not.

I meet his gaze, and he holds it there for just a moment before looking away.

With my hands sheathed in the gloves, we get started. Biggest stuff first, he says, and then down in size from there. The smaller stuff will fall into the cracks and crevices created by the bigger pieces.

We work side by side, falling into a comfortable silence. It's impossible not to notice the swell in his forearms, his T-shirt clinging to his swollen biceps, the way he works with a singular focus. Maybe I was wrong about Wyatt. At least a little.

After a while we take a break, sitting down on the open tailgate of his truck and gulping water. Sweat rolls down my rib cage, the back of my neck, even the insides of my thighs.

"Are you thinking about changing the name of this place?" Wyatt asks. He swings his foot back and forth, regarding me as he waits for me to answer.

I look out at the Circle B sign in the distance. "Definitely, I just need to figure out the right name. I have some ideas."

"Do you want to share them?"

I stare at him. I don't mean to, but his kindness disarms me. "Um, sure." I go get the notebook from my car and hand it to him.

He reads, his lips twisting as he considers what I've come up with. "I think you should have the word 'ranch' in the name, for sure. Maybe something to indicate what the person is getting into. Like 'Relaxation Ranch' or something."

"That would work if I was building a spa."

Wyatt chuckles. "You get my drift. Make it obvious what it is."

"A place to send your kid when you can't get them to behave?"

He smiles. "Yeah, that."

I shake my head. "I can't make it so obvious that no kid will agree to come here. The Ranch Where The Bad Kids Go," I say in a mock tone.

He huffs and grins like he finds me amusing. "Good point." His eyes look back out at the work in front of us for the day. "You about ready?" Wyatt asks, hopping down. He turns around and offers me his hand.

I don't need the help jumping down, but he's being nice, and I don't want to discourage that by declining. We're so back and forth, awkward one moment and only slightly less awkward the next. I place my hand in his and feel it immediately, the way my heart lifts and soars. I slide down off the tailgate, but when I go to take back my hand, Wyatt holds fast. He's looking down at me, but it feels as if he's not seeing me at all.

"What?" I ask.

His eyes squint as he studies me. They are dark, like all the Hayden men, but streaked with gold. I remember the way his eyes drank me in that night as he hovered above me, but the stab of pain rockets me back to reality.

"Nothing," he answers softly, dropping my hand and leading me back to our work.

We keep working, and it turns out Wyatt likes to chat. Add that to the new and surprising things I'm learning about him. Is it possible he has grown up a little since we slept together? The realization is striking, causing discomfort to unfurl inside me.

"Do you know the history of this place?" he asks, using the inside of his shirt sleeve to wipe sweat from his forehead.

I shake my head and push the hair back from my face. "The Gazette reporter mentioned it, but I forgot to look into it."

"I have to warn you," Wyatt starts. "I don't know how accurate this all is. It may just be Hayden family folklore."

"I like folklore."

He grins. "You asked for it."

I lean on the handle of my shovel and nod at him. "I'm waiting."

Wyatt pushes hair back from his forehead and begins. "When my gramps and my dad ran the ranch, there was a family who came in and started the Circle B. I was young and I don't remember any of this, so none of this is firsthand. The Circle B family tried to sell their beef for less money, undercutting not just the HCC but the entire Arizona industry. We hadn't yet differentiated ourselves with pasture-raised beef, so we were selling the same beef but for more money. My dad couldn't figure out how they were selling beef for so much less and staying afloat, and eventually he gave up trying to figure it out, and took matters into his own hands." Wyatt breathes a laugh, and I wonder why his admiration sounds reluctant. He points behind us. "My dad bought up the land north of the Circle B, then had the stream that fed the ranch rerouted. The Circle B has a well, so you shouldn't have a problem, but they needed more for a herd as big as the one they were carrying."

It all clicks into place. "He dehydrated them."

"Essentially."

"It's like war, on a smaller scale."

"I suppose it is, in a way. My dad had to protect the HCC. Wes would do the same."

I have no doubt Wes would eliminate anything or anybody who threatened his ranch. "And you?" I ask.

"I'd protect the HCC." I like the way he says it, with quiet strength.

"I heard what Warner did. Stepping down like that. Why didn't you…" I grasp for the right words.

"Step up?"

I shrug. "For lack of a better term, yes."

Wyatt's lips press together as he thinks. "I would, if I had to. But I don't know that I can be the kind of person who shows up, day after day, doing the same job. I need something more." He gives me a look. "As you can imagine, it's not a popular opinion at the homestead."

"I bet not."

"I think my dad should be happy he at least got one boy who loves the family business almost as deliriously as he does."

Something about the way he says it makes me think there's a lot more to his words. "He's not happy?"

"No, he's really happy. With Wes. And Warner too, despite the fact he left everyone high and dry to pursue his passion."

"And you?"

Wyatt shifts, and he looks uncomfortable. "It's complicated."

"Been there," I say, trying to make him feel better. "My relationship with my mom is complicated."

"What did she—" His phone rings. He sends me a look of apology. "It's an HCC cowboy. It might only be a minor question, or it could be that a hunter is on the property and won't leave, you never know."

"Answer," I urge. Now I'm curious what he'd do about a hunter who refuses to leave his land.

"Denny?" Wyatt says in lieu of a greeting. "What's going on?"

He listens, his posture shifting as the moments tick by. He stands straighter. His entire face hardens. "Where did you see her?"

I look away. Who is her?

It's so quiet out here, I can just barely make out Denny on the end of the line saying the name Sara. And even though I know better, something inside me plummets.

Sara Schultz. The married woman Wyatt's been sneaking around with. I didn't forget about her, but I put it out of my mind on purpose. It hurts to think about, more than it should. Wyatt's business is Wyatt's business.

And, once again, I am in a relationship. A happy relationship.

In my peripheral vision, I catch Wyatt's gaze sliding over to me. I keep my eyes fixed elsewhere, so I don't appear interested.

"Thanks for letting me know about… that," Wyatt says, and I get the feeling he's choosing his words carefully, knowing he has an audience. He ends the call and slips his phone back into his pocket.

"I have to get going," he announces, glancing at the pile of trash. "I'll be back to finish up in the morning."

He walks away on fast feet, and I refuse to watch him go. Resentment builds inside me until it's all I can feel.

She's married. It's his best friend's wife, for God's sake. What is he doing?

And why did he never want to do it with me?