Long Road Home. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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boots, toed them off and peeled away his wool socks, which were soaked.
When he came out—if he came out—he’d just wear the boots out to the truck and carry the socks. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.
It opened soon afterward. “There you are!” Olivia stood holding a brass candlestick with a lit candle. She looked like an angel. “Come in. I told everyone who rescued me and they’re all dying to meet you. Well, I guess Sarah has already met you.”
“Briefly.” He remembered a stately silver-haired woman in her sixties who had a warm smile and kind eyes. Stepping into the entryway, he closed the door behind him. “I’m dripping. I should stand out here on the mat for a minute so I don’t mess up the hardwood floors.” The musical hum of female voices and laughter filtered in from the living room, along with the clink of glasses and the snap and crackle of a fire.
“Maybe I should get you a towel.”
“That’s not necessary. I really can’t stay.” He threw the comment out there, although his escape hatch was closing fast. “But I brought a lantern in case the power’s out for a while.” He held it up.
“If the lightning hit a transformer, and Sarah thinks it might have, then the power will be out for the rest of the night.”
“Doesn’t the ranch have a backup generator for emergencies?”
“Yes, but it’s not working right now. The men were planning to buy the part in Casper and repair it after they came back. I guess this storm was a surprise to everyone.”
“Oh.” Although intellectually Wyatt knew that the women on this ranch were unlikely to be helpless females who couldn’t look after themselves during a power outage, he still couldn’t picture himself driving away, knowing he’d left them in the middle of a blackout that might last until morning.
“Sarah wants you to stay, and I think you should. Pam’s fine with it, and she won’t charge you for a night at the Bunk and Grub, either.”
The escape hatch closed with a bang. “I’m happy to pay her anyway, but yeah, I’ll stay. Although I don’t have anything with me like clothes and stuff. I left it all at the B and B.”
“I’m sure that can be worked out. A place with this many men on-site must have some old clothes somewhere.”
“I suppose.” Wyatt felt something warm and wet on his bare feet. Glancing down, he discovered a low-slung, brown-and-white spotted dog with floppy ears licking his toes. “Who’s this?”
“Rodney, Sarah’s recently adopted dog. She got him from a shelter in Colorado, and he’s a mix but he’s mostly basset hound.”
“Not the kind of dog I’d expect on a ranch, but why not?” Wyatt crouched down and scratched behind the dog’s oversized ears. “How’s it going, Rodney?”
“His full name is Rodney Dangerfield.”
Wyatt lifted the dog’s muzzle and looked into his sad eyes. “Appropriate. Can’t get no respect, can you, Rodney?”
The dog whined and wagged his white-tipped tail.
“You and me, we’ll hang out tonight, buddy. We’ll find us a baseball game on TV—”
“No power,” Olivia said.
“Oh, right. No worries, Rod. With that face, I’ll bet you’re great at poker. We’ll play cards by candlelight.”
The dog whined again.
Olivia glanced up at him with a smile. “That’s enough of the stall tactics. You’ve stopped dripping, so it’s time to come inside and meet everyone. I told them how you rushed to my rescue, so I suspect you’re going to be the man of the hour.”
Wyatt groaned inwardly. Just what he didn’t want. He followed Olivia into the living room with Rodney trotting at his heels. Wyatt wasn’t sure of his welcome with Jack, but at least he’d scored with the dog.
3
OLIVIA GUESSED THAT WYATT had agreed to stay because he was unwilling to leave a group of ladies caught in a power outage. If chivalry kept him here, that was fine with her. She wouldn’t mention that these were resourceful ranch women who didn’t need a man to babysit them in an emergency.
But judging from what the women had said after she’d arrived, nobody should be out driving tonight, not even a can-do wilderness guide. Sarah’s battery-operated weather radio had predicted high winds and hail would follow on the heels of the heavy rain. She and Wyatt walked into the living room, where a fire burned in the large rock fireplace and candles positioned around the room illuminated a comfortable collection of brown leather furniture and sturdy wooden side tables.
Conversation stopped among the eight women gathered there. Eleven-month-old Sarah Bianca, Morgan Chance’s little girl who was known as “SB,” continued to babble to her stuffed dinosaur, and four-month-old Archie, Josie Chance’s son, slept peacefully in his carrier. All other eyes turned toward Wyatt.
Olivia understood why. Firelight and candlelight bronzed his wet T-shirt look with an erotic glow that was truly mesmerizing. The women had good reason to stare, especially after hearing Olivia’s tale of being carried through the rain by this fine specimen of manhood.
Sarah was the first to break the charged silence. “Good to see you again, Wyatt, but my goodness, you’re soaked!” She set down her wineglass and walked toward him, all smiles. “We need to do something about that before you settle in.”
Olivia swallowed a bubble of laughter. What Sarah really meant was that if she didn’t reduce the sexual wattage of that impressive physique by giving him something dry to wear, the women would be distracted the entire evening by the resident beefcake.
“I have some of my sons’ old clothes I was going to take to a rummage sale in town,” Sarah said. “Come on back to the laundry room with me. Something should fit you.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Wyatt set his lantern on a side table and followed her down the hallway to the left with Rodney close behind, his short legs moving rapidly to keep up.
“Whew.” Josie Chance, Jack’s wife, flipped her long, blond braid over her shoulder. “Don’t anybody tell Jack I said so, but that guy’s hot. I had no idea. Jack just said he was a typical hiker type with sandy-colored hair.”
Morgan Chance, Josie’s redheaded sister-in-law, laughed as she took the dinosaur her daughter handed her. “Of course he said that. You think he’s going to describe his half brother, or any guy, for that matter, as good-looking?”
“I wish I could have snapped off a couple of shots before Sarah dragged him away.” Nick Chance’s wife, Dominique, a tall brunette with short hair, was a professional photographer who always had her camera handy. “But that would have spooked him, I’ll bet.”
“Oh, you think?” Mary Lou, who’d been a cook at the ranch for years, shook her head and grinned. “You ladies better take it down a notch or he’s liable to spend the evening in a back room playing with the dog.”
“That would be a shame.” Olivia had returned to setting up her mani-pedi station in a corner, but she glanced over at Dominique. “Still, I would have loved a picture of him in that wet T-shirt. I can see it framed and hanging in your gallery. You’d sell a few prints of those, girlfriend.”
“But you and Dominique would be the only ones who could get away with having that picture,” said Tyler, Morgan’s dark-haired sister. “I don’t think Alex would take kindly to me pasting it up on the inside of my closet door. Those days are over for this married lady.”
Emily, a petite blonde, lifted her chin. “I don’t need a picture like that. I have Clay.”
“Spoken like a woman who’s only been a bride for two months.” Morgan winked at her. “Just because