Long Road Home. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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up with his dad’s sandy hair and gray eyes.
Eventually Jack had seemed to accept that Wyatt was his half brother, but he’d remained suspicious, as if Wyatt might want to cash in on the financial success of the Paint horse breeding operation at the Last Chance. No, and hell no. Wyatt had a profitable wilderness trekking company based in San Francisco and wasn’t the least bit interested in Chance money, but Jack couldn’t know that.
The money issue wasn’t the biggest reason for Jack to be prickly, though. Finding out that the mother who’d abandoned him had subsequently married a successful businessman and raised two more kids couldn’t be an easy pill to swallow. Worse yet, she’d kept Jack’s existence a secret from her second family until last year when the divorce from Wyatt and Rafe’s father had apparently loosened her tongue.
Hiding the fact she’d had a kid thirty-odd years ago was pretty radical, even for his mother. But it wasn’t totally out of character. Diana had always been evasive about her past, as if she was ashamed of it. She claimed that she’d been through hard times and nothing more needed to be said. Yeah, well, she’d put Wyatt and Rafe through some hard times as they tried to deal with a completely self-absorbed mother.
The taillights disappeared again as the rain redoubled its effort to drown this part of the country. Wyatt had years of experience handling every kind of weather, and he’d be damned if he’d end up in a ditch this afternoon and have to call the ranch for help. That wouldn’t improve his rep any.
And he wanted his rep to be solid, wanted Jack and everyone else on the ranch to think of him as a competent outdoorsman, even if he wasn’t a cowboy. Maybe he and Jack would have things in common other than the obvious connection of having the same mother. Wyatt liked the idea of being related to a rancher.
He’d always felt out of place in the circles his parents preferred. Rafe, with his business degree and his talent for investing, fit right in. Not Wyatt. He’d taken up hiking and camping as a teenager to escape charity balls and gallery openings.
Jackson Hole had some of that high society element going on, especially within the Jackson city limits. But the little town of Shoshone about ten miles from the ranch was definitely more Wyatt’s style. A collection of small businesses and a single traffic light at the only major intersection—that was urban enough for Wyatt.
If he chose to, he could relocate his company here. Adventure Trekking could operate as well—or maybe even better—from the Jackson Hole area as it did out of San Francisco. If he lived here, he could spend time at the ranch and get to know the Chance family. He had a feeling he’d fit in with them better than he ever had with his own family.
But before he made any drastic changes, he needed to find out if Jack had mellowed toward the idea of Wyatt’s and Rafe’s existence. Jack’s resentment could be a major obstacle to Wyatt’s plan. The guy had obviously been hurt when Diana had left him, but in Wyatt’s opinion, Jack might have been better off without her in his life. Wyatt had asked around town, and the guy seemed to be doing just fine.
Sure, his father had died a while back, but he still had his stepmother, Sarah, and two half brothers, Nick and Gabe. They all owned a part of the ranch and, according to what Wyatt had heard, everyone got along great. Jack was happily married now and had a kid of his own.
Wyatt planned to keep that last bit of info to himself. He wasn’t sure how Diana would react to finding out she was a grandmother, and Jack didn’t need to have her suddenly appear and claim her grandmotherly rights. She might not care a whole lot about the baby, but she loved being the center of a drama.
If Jack had a baby, that made Wyatt an uncle. He smiled at the idea. It was kind of cool to think about. Maybe he should have brought something for the baby, especially because he was once again arriving unannounced. But he hadn’t….
Lightning flashed, nearly blinding him with its intensity. For a split second the road was lit up like a movie set. A crack of thunder followed, loud enough to make his ears ring. But in that brief moment of full light, he’d seen a Jeep Cherokee off on the side of the road up ahead, its right wheels buried in mud, the taillights still on.
He hadn’t been able to tell if the vehicle was occupied, but he guessed it was if the lights were on. Once he was alongside it, he stopped and lowered his passenger side window to get a better look.
The driver’s window on the Jeep slid down, too, which gave him his answer even before he saw the pretty woman with the hopeful expression gazing over at him. Her shoulder-length hair was streaked with red and blond, obviously a salon job and not her natural color, but it looked good on her. The Cherokee’s taillights must have been the ones he’d followed down the road.
“Seems like you’re stuck!” he called out over the sound of the rain.
“Yep! I was about to phone the ranch. Maybe somebody can come get me.”
“I’m headed that way, if you want a ride.” He knew what he was suggesting wasn’t a perfect solution. That salon hairdo would be dripping with water by the time she made it into his truck, and her shoes would be covered with mud. But she’d be in the same fix if someone drove out here to get her. Trying to hitch a tow chain to her Jeep in this downpour with lightning flashing all around wasn’t reasonable.
A couple of seconds went by with rain coming in his open window and hers, too, probably. He had a chance to study her a little, which added to his initial impression that she was pretty—high cheekbones, rounded chin, full lips and very blue eyes. He wondered if she was worried about accepting a ride from a stranger. “My name’s Wyatt Locke,” he said. “I’m Jack Chance’s half brother visiting from San Francisco.”
“Sarah didn’t mention anyone coming to visit today.”
Wyatt wondered if Jack’s stepmother would be annoyed because he was dropping in. “It’s a surprise. But if you want to call the ranch and double-check that I’m legit, go ahead. The surprise isn’t that important.” And they couldn’t tell him to leave with this gully-washer in progress, even if they wanted to.
She smiled, revealing even white teeth with a tiny space in the middle. “I’m sure you’re perfectly safe, Wyatt Locke. Serial killers don’t usually come out in weather like this.” She glanced at the seat next to her before turning back to him. “But I have a couple of bags of stuff I need to take up to the ranch house.”
“Will it get ruined if it gets a little wet?”
“Not really, but—”
“You can’t carry it all in one trip,” he said, making a guess.
“Right.”
“Hang on. I’ll help.” Leaving the motor running, he opened his door and stepped out. He was drenched immediately. Cold water soaked his Adventure Trekking T-shirt and hiking shorts, and burrowed into his hiking boots.
“Wait!” she called out. “You don’t have to—”
“Yeah, I do. Can’t leave a damsel in distress.” He slogged around the front of the truck, his boots making a sucking sound with every step. First he opened his passenger door and then turned toward her Jeep. “Let’s get your bags in there first. Do you have an umbrella?”
“No such luck.” She opened her door and passed him two large zippered totes.
“Got ‘em.” Water ran in rivulets down his face, but now that her door was open he could see the rest of her if he blinked the rain away. She had a great figure, nicely showcased by jeans and a black scoop-necked top. Then he noticed her feet. Dear God, was she wearing high heels? Not good. “Stay put. I’ll come back for you.”
“No need. I’ll take off my shoes and roll up my pant legs for the trip over.”
“It’ll be better if I carry you,” he called over his shoulder as he navigated the short but muddy stretch between her Jeep and his truck. He put the totes on the floor of the cab and turned back to her.
She had one bare foot propped on the edge of the