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."
