Coming Home Page 3

  Not that Wyatt knew that for sure. But he had his suspicions.

  "Come on," Wyatt said. "I'll walk you two down. Maria, we left Nicole's suitcase in the truck."

  Maria nodded at Wyatt, then led Nicole to the elevator, the three of them riding down in silence. Maria glanced back and forth between them a few times, as if sensing the tension. Wyatt found himself very grateful for her presence. Because if Maria hadn't been with them, he might have been tempted to ask about this Justin guy.

  And the last thing in the world he wanted to do was give Nicole Ross the impression that he gave a damn who she slept with at night. .

  Dad’s old farmhouse looked the same, yet somehow seemed more charming, and Nicole smiled as she looked around. The interior was freshly painted, clean, homey, with gingham curtains at the window, and a vase of cut flowers on the table. Nicole figured they were Maria's contribution.

  "Did they feed you anything on your flight? Let me make you something to eat."

  "No, thank you, Maria. I'm really not hungry. I'd just like to sit here for a minute, if you don't mind," Nicole replied. "I have very fond memories of this kitchen."

  The older woman glanced around the room. "Your father still likes to sit here and drink his special tea every night.”

  Nicole smiled, remembering sharing late night confidences with her father. "Maybe a cup would be nice.”

  While Maria filled the kettle, Nicole murmured, "I was surprised you sent Wyatt to pick me up at the airport today."

  "Really? I thought you would be grateful to see a familiar face. Since he was with your father, and he offered...."

  "It's all right," Nicole admitted. "Though Wyatt and I...we didn't part on the best of terms."

  Maria scooped a heaping teaspoonful of her father's special orange-tea blend and brought her a steaming cup. "Your father implied there were problems with the Claytons long ago. He never said exactly what they were."

  Problems. That would almost be funny, if she were in the mood to laugh. The one and only time she'd ever seen her father in a violent rage was after a bitter confrontation with Wyatt Clayton's grandfather, Charlie, eleven years ago.

  "It's all in the past," Nicole murmured.

  "Where it should stay," the older woman replied with a philosophical nod. "Whatever dispute came between your father and the Claytons seems to have been resolved now that Charlie Clayton is gone. Although, I don’t know that it would have if Brady were in charge.”

  “He’s not?” Nicole asked, her stomach churning at even the mention of Wyatt’s obnoxious older cousin.

  “No, Wyatt is the big boss now.”

  Nicole nearly dropped her cup. "Wyatt is running the Four C?"

  Maria nodded matter-of-factly. "Of course. And doing quite a good job of it, too. That’s why your father is willing to spend so much time there. The two of them have become good friends.”

  She tried not to feel a stab of pain at that. Thinking that her father had grown chummy with the guy who’d broken his own daughter’s heart was definitely twisting the knife in the wound. But she had to be fair. She was the one who’d insisted they leave the past in the past, never discuss it again. And apparently that’s what Dad had done.

  "I don’t understand why Brady didn’t take over for Mr. Clayton, as the oldest grandson, and the legitimate one...."

  Maria shrugged. "Who minds about such things nowadays?”

  Of course the woman was right. Single motherhood no longer carried the stigma it had thirty-some years ago. But Wyatt had been born into a very old-fashioned family and Nicole knew his grandfather hadn’t been kind to him during Wyatt’s childhood.

  “Many thought as you did, that when the old man died Brady would be given control of the ranch. But, that was not the case. Wisely, Charlie Clayton recognized which of his grandsons was more suited to be in charge, and left controlling interest in the ranch to Wyatt."

  Nicole had never imagined Wyatt would end up in charge of the huge spread owned by his grandfather. As a teenager, he used to say he figured the old man would cut him off without a nickel. Nicole knew Wyatt's mother, Charlene, had gotten pregnant with him at sixteen. She hadn't been able to stand the small town whispers and had skipped off to Europe to boarding school after Wyatt's birth. The fact that she'd left her son behind to be raised by his grandparents must have hurt him terribly, though he'd always denied it. Nicole had heard the talk in town, she'd been there to hear Brady's jibes and other kids' taunts. No one ever let Wyatt forget that he was the little "mistake" of a spoiled rich girl with a set of too-doting parents.

  "That Brady, he would have run the ranch right into the ground by now," Maria said, sounding disgusted.

  "You might be right. He never did seem interested in anything other than fast cars and spending money."

  "And women! Which doesn't make me feel at ease, let me tell you, since my niece Simone works out at the Four C. She's been working as the cook over there, and I am very nervous about it, considering how pretty she is. Of course, I don't worry about Wyatt. He's a gentleman. It's Brady I'm worried about."

  Nicole could have told her differently, could have told Maria all about how much of a gentleman Wyatt was when it came to his dealings with women. But she was too tired and too many years had passed. Maria probably wouldn't believe her anyway. She seemed to have placed Wyatt Clayton on a pedestal. And he was her father’s new best pal.

  She swallowed hard, willing the tea not to churn in her stomach.

  So things were different here than she’d expected. Everyone had moved on, forgotten the past, and that’s exactly what she needed to do. So she remained silent. She didn't tell Maria that Wyatt Clayton was far more dangerous than his blonde-haired cousin Brady could ever be.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Early the next morning, Nicole was back at the hospital. She'd already seen her father once, but he'd slept through her visit and she hadn't disturbed his rest. She sat in a CICU waiting room, flipping pages of a magazine with complete disinterest and keeping an eye on the clock. The next visit would be allowed in another fifteen minutes.

  "You're Doctor Ross, aren't you? Josh's daughter?"

  Nicole stood immediately as a man entered the room. He was probably her age, with light brown hair and warm eyes. He smiled as he reached out to shake her hand.

  "I'm Doctor Kendall. I've been taking care of your father. I heard you got in last night. I'm sorry I wasn't able to speak to you then."

  "Is he going to be all right?"

  "He’ll be fine."

  Nicole breathed deeply and closed her eyes, not even listening as the doctor continued. Dad would be all right. That was enough for now.

  "Nicole...."

  She opened her eyes instantly as Wyatt entered.

  "I was just telling Dr. Ross that I believe her father will pull through this just fine. This was not a major heart attack, more a warning than anything else, but still needs to be taken seriously. We’ve inserted a stent to handle the biggest blockage, and I think right now he just needs to rest and make a few lifestyle changes. We'll keep him in the CICU another day or two until we can tell for sure, then move him to a private room for a few days beyond that."

  Nicole nodded, feeling a tremendous amount of relief that the doctor seemed confident of her father's recovery. She glanced at her watch. "It's almost time for him to be allowed another visit."

  "Dr. Ross, perhaps you could set your father's mind at ease while you’re with him," the doctor said before she could leave the room.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, he's a very stubborn man, though I imagine you already know that," the doctor said with a wry shrug. "He has been very worried about his practice. He seems to think he is indispensable in this county."

  "He practically is," Wyatt muttered.

  Nicole glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, then turned her attention back to the doctor.

  "If you could, just assure him that you'll make sure someone takes over for him temp
orarily.”

  Nodding, Nicole said, "Of course. I'll take care of his practice myself until he gets well enough to go back to work. And he will, won't he? Be able to go back to work, I mean?"

  "He will, but he needs to cut back. As I said, this was a warning sign, he needs to slow down. That might be the toughest part, convincing him to take it easy."

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” she murmured with a smile, looking forward to the return of her slightly stubborn, healthy father.

  Excusing himself, the doctor left, leaving Nicole alone with Wyatt. He looked better than he had the previous night, rested and relaxed. The frown was still there, though.

  "Did you get any sleep last night?" he asked.

  "Not really. I had a lot on my mind. Plus my old canopy bed isn't quite as comfortable now as it was the last time I slept in it."

  Nicole had been very surprised to find her old room just the way she'd left it years before. Her pretty white wicker furniture was in exactly the same position. Even some of her old clothes still resided in the dresser drawers. She'd started crying all over again when she saw that her father hadn't allowed a thing to be changed about her bedroom.

  "It's not easy coming home again. Though, I guess you never really considered this home, since you spent most of the childhood with your mother."

  "The best part of my childhood was spent with my father," Nicole admitted. Not waiting for a reply, she slipped out the door and made her way to her father's room.

  Her father looked stronger, and was awake, watching for her as she entered. “Nicole, I didn't dream you."

  "No, Dad, I got in last night. How are you today?"

  "Better. Any luck with that ice cream?" he asked with a tiny tired smile.

  "Nope. And I'm not sneaking any in, either. You're going to follow the doctor's orders to the letter."

  "What a lot of nonsense. I have things to do, and I'm sure you do too. You don't need to be down here taking care of your old man."

  She smiled fondly and pulled a chair close to his bed to take his hand. He gently squeezed her fingers, silently offering her comfort, as if he knew just how afraid she really was.

  "How is Justin? Is he with you?"

  Nicole shook her head slowly. "No, he wasn't able to get away just now. I think he'll try to come down in a few weeks. He's very concerned."

  "He's alone in that mausoleum with Monica? God help him!"

  Nicole laughed as her father rolled his eyes. "I know you won't ask, but I'll tell you anyway...she was very worried when I told her about your heart attack."

  "But, I suppose, not so worried that she thought it was a good idea for you to fly down here and be with me, hmm? Don't bother to deny it. If I know your mother, and I do, her first concern was that you wouldn't be there to attend some hugely critical charity luncheon."

  Nicole shook her head. "No, truly, she was very concerned. I think part of her wanted to come herself."

  "Heaven forbid!" her father said, his eyes widening.

  Nicole saw the genuine horror on her father's face and laughed out loud for the first time in twenty-four hours. "Don't worry, I'd never let her."

  After the too-brief visit, Nicole left her father's room to find Wyatt leaning indolently against the wall in the corridor. His hands were thrust into the pockets of his tight, faded jeans. His black tee shirt fit him like skin and he stared down, as if intent on the toes of his scuffed leather boots. Nicole caught the long admiring looks two passing nurses gave him. When he slowly raised his head, glanced out the corner of his eye toward the woman, then stared full at Nicole, she knew he'd been aware of their intense scrutiny. He was amused by it. The boyish grin he gave her was so like the old Wyatt that it hurt her to see it.

  It quickly disappeared, however, as if he realized just who it was he was smiling at.

  "How is he?" Wyatt asked as he walked toward her.

  "Better. Laughing. More like himself."

  He nodded and fell into step beside her as Nicole returned to the waiting room. It was still deserted, but someone had brewed a pot of coffee and left it on a table near the window. Nicole filled a Styrofoam cup, lifting the pot and silently asking if he wanted one, too.

  “No thanks,” he replied. "So, were you serious about staying here until he gets back on his feet?"

  "Yes," she replied as she stirred her coffee and sat in an uncomfortable wingback chair. "It's the least I can do for him."

  Wyatt frowned. "What about your own practice? You can't just pick up and take off for what could be weeks...even months."

  So, he was displeased with the idea of her sticking around town? That was a positive side effect of her staying, she decided. "I work exclusively on my mother's ranch, and there's another full time vet on staff. I really don't have to answer to anyone. Not that it's any of your business."

  Though she tried to sound calm and smooth, Nicole saw the way her coffee sloshed in the cop and realized her hand was shaking.

  "It is my business, you see, considering my ranch is your father's main employer."

  "My father has his own practice," she retorted.

  "Only as a sideline. Didn't he tell you he's on retainer to me? Hell, he's at my place full-time three days a week and on call the rest of the time."

  She froze, absorbing that tidbit, then whispered, "When did that come about?"

  "A few years ago. After I took over the Four C."

  "I heard about that," she said. "It must have come as quite a shock for you. I know you never expected to run the ranch."

  He gave her an unpleasant smile. "Must have come as quite a shock to you, too. Suddenly I'm not the bastard grandson with no prospects...you know, the one who wasn't nearly good enough for Nicole Ross of the Baltimore racing set."

  Nicole stood abruptly and dropped her head back so she could stare straight up into his face. Sticking an index finger toward his flat stomach she snapped, "Look, I don't know what your problem is. If anyone around here's got a right to be angry it's me. I’m the one who’s had to handle things alone for all these years, while you were totally ignoring your responsibilities. You took off for Europe, leaving me to deal with everything.”

  Wyatt narrowed his eyes, his hard, tight form displaying his anger. He leaned forward, lowered his tone and practically spit out, "Oh, and you dealt with it, didn't you. How long did it take for you to knuckle under to that witch mother of yours and let her drag you back to Baltimore?"

  "What difference does it make to you? You didn't call...didn't write. I didn't hear one word from you. Not for all those weeks. What did you expect me to do, Wyatt? Sit around in Florida and wait for you to decide if you wanted to come back and do the right thing? For all I knew, your mother and her new rich husband had already gotten you engaged to some European millionaire’s daughter."

  "You should have waited, damn it! By the time I found out...."

  “By the time you found out, you had already decided I wasn’t what you wanted,” she snarled. “But you should have had the balls to just say so instead of trying to paint me as a…”

  "Excuse me, sir, ma'am, this is a hospital,” a harsh voice intruded. “I'm going to have to ask you to keep your voices down."

  Nicole took a step back as a nurse entered the waiting room and frowned at them, wrapped in disapproval. Wyatt thrust an angry hand through his thick hair, and frustration rolled off him in waves.

  Nicole couldn't believe he was the one acting like he had a right to be angry.

  After all, he wasn't the one who'd been left, rejected, and pregnant at age seventeen.

  He opened his mouth to say something, but frankly, she wasn’t in the mood to hear it. So before the nurse had even turned around to leave them alone again, she stormed out of the waiting room, determined to avoid Wyatt for the rest of her time here in Florida. Because if she didn’t, sooner or later she was going to reveal the one secret she didn’t want him to know: that despite what he’d done—and what he hadn’t—she had never gotten over
him.

  He had hurt her more than anyone else in the world. But Wyatt Clayton was still the only man she had ever loved.

  Her father was moved into a private room two days later. He was recovering nicely, though he complained constantly about being stuck in bed and the lack of fresh air. Doctor Kendall told them he'd be able to leave the hospital in five or six days.

  "But that doesn't mean back to work," the doctor insisted. "That just means home...for recuperation. No work for another six to eight weeks."

  "Weeks? Impossible," Dad declared.

  Nicole rested her hand on her father's arm. Since they'd moved him out of the intensive care unit and into his own room, Dad had acted as if he was perfectly fine. He flirted with the nurses and complained about the food, but Nicole wasn't fooled. He tired easily, his face looked pale and drawn.

  Humoring him, she said, "Now, Dad, you haven't had a vacation in years."

  He snorted. “A vacation? You call lying around at home with you and Maria hovering over me a vacation? Now, put me on a cruise ship with gambling and show girls...and I might consider it."

  Nicole and Dr. Kendall laughed together at his disgruntled tone. "Now that you're better, Dad, I'm going to start making rounds for you. I can look after things.”

  "Have you been out to the Four C, Nicky? Wyatt has been having some problems with one of his mares, and I've been keeping a close eye on her."

  Nicole slowly shook her head. She hadn't seen Wyatt in a couple of days, since their angry confrontation in the hospital waiting room. He had stormed off, and hadn't been back. She knew he checked up on her father, though. The nurse Nicole had spoken with the first night mentioned he had called several times.

  "No, I haven't. But I'll head out there today, all right?"

  He nodded, satisfied, and suddenly looked very tired. Dr. Kendall noticed as well and said, "Get some rest, Josh. If you want to go home next week, you better take it easy and prove to me you're up to it."

  "Whatever it takes to get out of this place," Josh muttered.