Coming Home Read online

  "Has the bleeding slowed down?"

  Wyatt nodded and gingerly peeled the blood-soaked towel away from the dog's belly. Several long gashes were visible in the soft flesh. Nicole bit her lip. "Poor baby. I'm going to have to give her a local," she told Wyatt. "I'll need you to hold her down. Once the anesthetic kicks in, she won't be in pain, but she'll still be very frightened. You've got to keep her steady."

  "Can't you put her under?"

  She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Wyatt, I don't have the drugs for that, and I wouldn't want to do it outside a surgical suite. She'll be all right, as long as you help me keep her calm."

  Wyatt nodded grimly and slid his arms around the dog's shaggy neck. He leaned his face in toward Winnie's, staring into her eye as one might a child, and explained to her what Nicole was doing. It helped. The dog remained calm, her brown eyes trusting, though Nicole knew she was in pain.

  As Nicole cleaned the wounds, she studied them carefully. Most of the cuts across the dog's stomach were superficial, but one was a little deep. All of them bled profusely. Winnie also had gashes on her legs, sides, and neck.

  "She'll need stitches. But none of these cuts are deep enough to warrant surgery. The big danger here is infection."

  "Whatever it takes."

  Nicole nodded and got to work tending the dog's cuts. Wyatt remained calm, though she saw the concern in his green eyes. She couldn't say she was surprised. Wyatt had always been crazy about dogs. And he'd never been able to stand seeing anyone in pain.

  "You know, an animal didn't do this," Nicole said with a frown as she concentrated on the task at hand. "There's no jagged tearing, no chunks of flesh missing like there would be if she tangled with another big dog. These cuts are clean, precise. Looks to me like she got tangled up in barbed wire."

  Wyatt closed his eyes, and she saw guilt pull his shoulders down. His jaw clenched and she knew he was gritting his teeth.

  "You're right," he said as he shook his head in self-disgust. “I didn't even think of it. Right after sunset I saw an armadillo running around down near the pond. Winnie loves chasing rabbits, dillos, anything she can race and sniff half to death. I let her go charging down the hill, and there's a barbed wire fence down there. I just didn't think that she might not see it in the dark." He tenderly ran his fingers through the fur on the dog's brow and whispered, "I'm sorry, girl."

  Nicole lifted her shoulder and tried to push her hair out of her face. Wyatt noticed what she was doing, leaned toward her and blew at her bangs. She smiled her thanks, and he shrugged.

  Wyatt kept Winnie calm throughout the night. He gently stroked the ruffled fur behind the dog's ears, whispering to Winnie as if she were a human being. Nicole took care to explain everything she was doing to Wyatt, and he, in turn, explained it to the dog. Nicole knew the success of the treatment was more due to Wyatt's calm, gentle presence than to her own skill.

  He was an unusual man. She'd known him as a child, and as a teenager. Now, she was seeing him in the midst of a crisis, for the first time, as an adult. His tenderness amazed her.

  Finally, at nearly four a.m., Nicole finished the stitching and gently covered Winnie’s wounds, hoping the dog wouldn’t chew the bandages off too quickly. She gave Winnie a shot of antibiotic, and told Wyatt how to clean the cuts for the next several days.

  "Try to keep her quiet, no running around, even if she acts like she feels better. Keep her inside whenever possible."

  Wyatt left the room for a moment to retrieve a thick, fluffy comforter. Nicole noticed it was in beautiful condition and wondered if he'd pulled it right off his own bed. She wouldn't be surprised if he had. He folded it into a large square and placed it in a corner of the kitchen. As gently as he could, he lifted Winnie and carried her over to the makeshift bed.

  "I can't thank you enough for coming out here, Nicole. You saved her life." Nicole tried to protest, but he cut her off. "No, I mean it. She might have bled to death if I'd stuck her in the truck and driven up to Ocala."

  "I'm glad that didn't happen," Nicole replied. "You really have a gift with animals, Wyatt. What ever happened to your own dream of being a vet?"

  He shrugged. "I thought about it. Even talked to my grandfather about it. But after college, I realized all I really wanted was to work here, on the Four C. Not just taking care of the horses, but also running the business side of things. Turns out I enjoy that, too."

  She wasn't surprised. Some people might have thought Wyatt was a useless, flirtatious, spoiled punk when he was younger. But she'd spent enough time with him to recognize the keen intelligence behind his green eyes. He'd been one of the most curious people she'd ever known, always asking questions, wanting to learn. But he'd hidden that side of himself from most people.

  "Listen, you're a mess. Why don't you take a quick shower before you leave. I'm sure you don't want to drive back to your father's house like that."

  Nicole glanced down at her clothes, realizing they were beyond salvage. She was bloody and filthy, and truly did want nothing more than a long, hot shower. And she certainly didn’t want to stain the seats of her father’s SUV. "If you're sure you wouldn't mind..."

  He shook his head. "Of course not. You can use the upstairs guest bathroom. I'll find you something to wear home."

  Nicole didn't argue. A shower sounded like pure heaven. Flashing him a tired smile, she walked out of the kitchen and went upstairs.

  She didn't bother even trying to save her clothes. Finding a trash can lined with a plastic bag, she dropped them inside as she stripped in the bathroom. Luckily, she'd pulled on some old shorts and a tee shirt and didn't imagine she'd miss them.

  Nicole stood in the shower letting the steady stream of water wash away the blood and fatigue. Leaning against the cool tile for several minutes, she tried to ease the ache in her shoulders. She had no idea how long she stood that way, just knew she felt too relaxed to get out.

  "Nicole, are you all right?"

  Quickly sticking her head out of the shower curtain, she saw the bathroom door stood open a few inches. "I'm fine, thanks. Just finishing."

  "Okay, I was getting worried there. Thought you'd fallen asleep standing up," he replied. "Here, I'm going to leave some things for you to wear right on the counter."

  She turned the shower off and reached for the towel hanging on a rack by the tub. She watched Wyatt's arm slide in through the slightly open door and drop some clothing on the bathroom vanity. He was obviously being careful not to intrude on her privacy.

  "Sorry I took so long, I'll be down in just a minute," she said as she dried her body with the large, fluffy towel.

  "No problem," Wyatt said.

  Nicole watched as he started to pull the door closed. Before it was completely shut, however, she glanced into the mirror over the vanity. And froze.

  Most of the mirror was steamy and clouded, but the edge closest to the door had cleared off somewhat from the cooler air in the hall. Wyatt was clearly visible, standing just outside the door, obviously as surprised as she.

  His widened eyes met hers in the mirror. She couldn't help looking at him, though his image was small and distorted from the steam. He wore only a pair of faded jeans. His chest was bare and hard, glistening in the moonlight that shone in from the huge arched windows in the front of the house. His hair was wet as if he'd just taken a shower of his own. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to clear her head which felt drowsy and slow from the long, hot shower and the longer night.

  While she watched, a small smile curled his lips upward. She saw him drop his attention from her face, lowering his eyes to study the rest of her reflection. She yanked the bath towel tighter against her body, wondering how far down she'd allowed it to slip while she mindlessly stared at him.

  "Guess I'd better let you get dressed before you get all pruney," Wyatt said, a regretful look apparent on his face.

  She didn't say a word as he shut the door with a click.

  After she quickly dressed in the tee shirt
and sweat pants he'd left on the bathroom counter, she quickly ran her fingers through her damp hair. She carried her shoes with her as she went downstairs. Not surprisingly, she found Wyatt sitting in a chair in the kitchen, stroking Winnie's head as the dog slept.

  "All clean?" he asked, not even looking up.

  "Yes, thank you. I'll get the clothes back to you the next time I come out."

  Nicole looked Winnie over one more time, knowing there was not much more she could do for her. She felt confident the dog would be all right. She hoped so, anyway. Considering how attached Wyatt appeared to be to the animal, she certainly didn't want him to lose her.

  "I guess I'll head out now," she said as she glanced at her watch. It was after five a.m. She’d be lucky to make it home before the sun came up.

  "You are welcome to crash here if you're too tired to drive home," he said. "There are several guest rooms."

  Wyatt glanced up at her as he extended the invitation. A tiny smile creased his lips as he saw how long his sweat pants hung on her—she kept hiking them up as she walked. And his tee shirt fell well below her hips. Her very curvy hips.

  Damn, she looked sexier than any woman had a right to. And the fact that she’d just spent hours saving Winnie, who was very precious to him, only made her that much more attractive.

  Suddenly finding himself regretting his invitation, Wyatt hoped she’d refuse. He didn't think he could standing having her sleep under his roof. Not because of his anger toward her, no indeed, that might even have been easier to deal with. He now had a new problem to contend with.

  It had started building when they'd worked together in the stables. And had increased tenfold when he'd seen her standing nearly naked in the bathroom tonight.

  He wanted her. Badly.

  "I don't think so," she said. "I'd rather just head back to Dad's and crash there for a while. Thanks, anyway."

  Wyatt nearly sighed in relief. It wasn't that he wasn't grateful for what she'd done to save Winnie. He just didn't imagine he'd get much rest if he had to think about the fact that she was sleeping a few rooms away. It would be torture, imagining her slumbering naked somewhere nearby. Wyatt knew darned well he wouldn't be able to keep that tee shirt on her in his mind's eye. Nope, she would be totally nude, restless, tossing and turning in the warm morning air. And he'd be sleepless and horny for hours.

  "Yeah, you'd better go," he said quickly, trying to shove the images out of his head.

  Nicole gave Winnie's head one more gentle pat as she left the kitchen. Carrying her father's supplies, Wyatt followed her outside. "You really love that dog," she said as he loaded the supplies into the back of the SUV.

  Wyatt nodded. "Yeah, I do. She's the only living creature in this house that I actually enjoy spending time with."

  Reaching toward her temple, Wyatt brushed a strand of damp hair off her face. He tucked the curl behind her ear, then slid his fingertips across her cheekbone. She looked exhausted, pale, and about as vulnerable as he'd ever seen her.

  Throughout the entire ordeal, Wyatt realized, he hadn't felt one moment's bitterness toward Nicole. He'd watched her work, admiring her ability, thankful for her skill. Never once had he thought about the fact that he wasn't supposed to like her anymore. Well, he conceded, he'd realized before tonight that it was impossible to dislike her. But now, seeing her resilience, her tenderness, he realized the girl he'd loved had matured into a woman worth loving. This feeling of tenderness he felt toward her was even more confusing to Wyatt than the raging desire he'd been trying to hide for the past half-hour.

  "We make a pretty good team, don't we?" he asked softly as she got into the car. Wyatt held her gaze for a moment, wondering if she'd reply.

  Finally, she admitted, "We always have."

  She didn't say another word as she shut the door and started the engine. He backed up and silently watched her drive away.

  When she was gone, Wyatt went into the house, grabbed a pillow from the sofa in the living room and returned to the kitchen. Turning off the light, he dropped the pillow to the floor next to Winnie, lay down beside her, and went to sleep.

  "I met your niece the other day."

  Maria looked up from the fruit she was cutting as Nicole entered the kitchen early Sunday morning. "You went out to the Four C? Your father asked me if you had."

  Nicole nodded, helped herself to some coffee and sat at the kitchen table. "Yes. I'm sorry I didn’t see you at all yesterday—I slept until late afternoon. I had an emergency with Wyatt's dog, and was gone most of the night before. And I missed you last night at the hospital.”

  Maria deftly finished tossing together the fruit salad she was preparing. "What did you think of Simone?"

  "She's lovely," Nicole replied.

  A worried frown crossed Maria's face. "Yes, she is, and that is the problem. Her parents moved away from here, and trusted me to help keep an eye on her while she goes to community college. A few months after they left, she quit school and went to work at the Four C. Her papa was not too happy, believe me."

  "I can imagine," Nicole murmured. "Parents usually have very definite ideas about what they want their children to do."

  "You sound like you speak from experience?" Maria asked as she spooned two bowls of the salad and sat next to Nicole.

  "Of course. My mother had my life all mapped out from a very young age. The best schools, the best people, an excellent college where I could meet a young man from the same background as myself and sink my hooks into him."

  Maria laughed out loud.

  "You think I'm kidding?"

  "No, no," Maria said. "She sounds much as your father described her. How did they ever end up married?"

  "Mother once told me she'd been young and foolish and he'd been handsome and virile and that was the beginning. He was fresh out of school, a young vet working for her father. I was the product of what was supposed to be a summer fling. They got married, got miserable and got divorced. I don't remember much of the time they were together. Just lots of fighting."

  "I'm sure neither regrets the marriage, since you were the result," Maria said, reaching over to squeeze Nicole's hand.

  "Hey, don't feel sorry for me," Nicole insisted. "I was not an unhappy 'divorced' kid. My childhood would have been much worse if they'd stayed together. By splitting up, they each remained the unique people they are...if they hadn't, I imagine my father would have given in and become someone very different."

  "That would have been a tragedy."

  Nicole nodded, unwilling to even think of her father becoming the kind of man her mother preferred: aloof, sophisticated, driven for success. She shuddered at the thought.

  "I had the best of both worlds. Culture, world travel, the best education from my mother...and lots of normal kid happiness with Dad." Nicole finished her fruit salad. Still hungry, she got up, helped herself to some more and returned to the table.

  "I suppose she wasn’t happy about your career choice.”

  "You got that right! But she didn't say too much. I guess she figured me becoming a vet was better than if I’d gotten married as a teenager to someone she deemed totally unsuitable."

  Maria nodded as she sipped her coffee. "Then it all worked out for the best. Look how well life has treated you."

  The doorbell rang before Nicole could reply. As Maria went to answer, Nicole thought about what she'd said. Life had indeed treated her well. Certainly better than she'd expected at seventeen. It had been at this very table, with her Dad sipping coffee out of possibly the same cup she held in her hand, that she'd broken down in tears and told him she was pregnant.

  It still bothered her to remember the look of pain on his face. But he'd forced his own feelings aside to comfort her, holding her close while she cried and worried aloud about having to admit her pregnancy to her mother. He hadn't pressed her for answers, simply asking once, "The Clayton boy...he's the father?"

  She'd nodded miserably and responded, "I've waited and waited to hear from him.
He promised he'd call me, but he's been gone for three weeks and I haven't heard a word."

  "I'll take care of this, Nicky. Don't you worry."

  Nicole shook off the memories as she heard footsteps entering the kitchen. Expecting to see Maria, she flinched as she saw it was Wyatt standing just behind her. He wore his typical tight jeans and cotton shirt, managing to look cool and comfortable in spite of the heat of the morning.

  "How's Winnie?" she asked.

  "Better today, trying to scratch at her stitches, just like you said she would. I kept her distracted yesterday, and Simone's keeping a close eye on her now."

  Nicole nodded and sipped at her coffee, wondering why she suddenly felt tongue-tied around Wyatt. They'd spent a grueling night together, yet now she found herself confused by his friendly smile and gentle tone. It was almost better when he'd been growling at her. It had been easier to keep her guard up.

  "You up for a road trip today?"

  She nodded. "I suppose. Just what did you have in mind?" Even as she said the words, she cursed herself for the slightly flirtatious tone he had to have heard.

  He was courteous enough to pretend not to. “There's a ranch over near the east coast, south of St. Augustine, with a pretty interesting stallion for stud. The owner and I have been corresponding, but I'd really like for you to check him out, if you don't mind."

  "And you're going over today? On a Sunday?"

  "Sure. It's one of the few times I can get away for an entire afternoon."

  "All right, just let me change," she murmured as she stood from the table.

  He glanced over her, and his eyes widened, as if he’d noticed for the first time that she wasn’t exactly dressed for visitors. She wore a pair of short, summery pajamas. They were light pink cotton, designed for coolness and comfort. The neckline was scooped, modest really, but the fabric was thin, clingy. Beneath, she wore just a skimpy pair of panties—no bra.

  As he continued to stare at her, she felt her skin begin to prickle. Her nipples tightened, and she grabbed a newspaper off the table and hugged it to her chest. The smear of black ink on pink fabric couldn’t possibly be worse than having him see just how quickly, and easily, he affected her.