Did these people own the entire eastern half of Oklahoma?

Marley stared out at the passing landscape of mostly clear pastures lined with miles of barbed wire. Here and there, woods cropped up, narrow tree-trails along creek beds or beside bridges. Ranch land. Miles of it.

Following at least a fifteen-minute drive past numerous gates marked with the Triple C brand, Wyatt turned off the dirt road onto a long, curving driveway and parked next to a tall set of front steps.

Marley exited the truck, but by the time she rounded to the other side, Wyatt was waiting in the semi-light of porch and house, holding Braden by the hand.

Quiet. Patient. Ultra-manly.

A strangely pleasant feeling twinkled through Marley. She shook it off and joined them. “If you’ll show me to the guest house, I won’t trouble you anymore.”

Wyatt nudged his chin toward the home’s double front doors. “Orders, remember?”

A mishmash of pickup trucks and cars scattered around the driveway like Hot Wheels. “You have company.”

“Family. They’re expecting you.”

She paused, uncertain. The last thing she wanted was for more people to know where she was. More people to wonder about her.

“A welcome home party for you shouldn’t be interrupted by strangers.”

“Come inside, Marley.” When she still hesitated, he took her elbow, and, as if he knew her Achilles heel, added, “I promised Braden he could meet the twins.”

Did he always keep his promises? Random thought. Totally out of place.

Marley swallowed her jitters and followed him inside the sprawling home.

Her first impressions were warmth and cinnamon. Then noise. Happy noise. Kids playing, people talking. A woman laughed, a man answered. Glass on glass clattered. A cup and saucer, maybe?

Wyatt led them into an oversize family room scattered with children’s toys and comfy, lived-in furniture. A collie-type dog lay on its side, a toddler boy happily sprawled across him.

At one end of the room, an enormous native rock fireplace crackled with real wood, something fragrant Marley couldn’t name, radiating heat into the well-lit space. She longed to go to it, hands extended, but waited instead for introductions. Playing the part was more important than getting warm.

A slender, mature woman with the prettiest, creamy brown skin came toward them, smile kind below dark, laughing eyes lined with life’s joys.

“So, here you are,” the woman said as if Marley had been invited all along, and as if the family had been waiting for her to arrive. “I am Connie Galindo.”

“House boss,” Wyatt murmured, and the affectionate look he shared with the woman sent a pleasant quiver through Marley. “Connie, this is Marley Johnson, and this fine-looking recruit is Braden.”

Braden, his attention caught by the children and the dog, looked up. “Hi.”

Connie swooped low. “You could use a cookie, yes? And maybe some milk. Am I right?”

Braden’s gaze flashed to Marley. She smiled and nodded.

“Yes, please.” Using his best manners, Braden made his Mommy proud.

“And you, Marley? Cookies and milk? Coffee?”

“Oh, no, thank you, nothing for me.” The sooner she and Braden were alone in the guest house, the safer they’d be.

“Dinner then? There is still plenty of pozole.”

“Give in, Marley.” Wyatt remained at her side, quietly present, reassuring in a way she didn’t examine. He just was, and she was glad. “Connie feeds people.”

Not wanting to be rude, Marley agreed. “A warm drink sounds really good right now. Thank you.”

Connie put a hand on Wyatt’s upper arm. “Introduce your new friends to everyone.”

The comment settled like a soft blanket around Marley’s shoulders. Friendly faces, caring people. A handsome protector who stirred feelings long suppressed.

The handsome protector took Marley around the large room, making introductions. Two brothers, two sisters-in-law, a brother-in-law, and several children including a pert blond named Daisy.

When they approached a beautiful, black-haired woman, he said, “This is my sister, Emily.”

Marley returned the other woman’s warm smile. “Nice to meet you, Emily. I’m grateful for your family’s help and generosity.”

“You’re more than welcome, though I wish we’d met in better circumstances.” To Wyatt, Emily said, “Will you be able to get her car out?”

He made a face. “Do birds fly?”

Emily chuckled. “My brothers can do anything. Or think they can. Especially Wyatt. He’s a born hero.”

Yes, he was, especially to Marley and Braden. But one look at his face told her the comment made him uncomfortable. Spots of color darkened his high cheekbones. A modest hero. Another reason for her crazy heart to jump around and give her ridiculous romantic fantasies.

“Emily’s the hero,” Wyatt said, deflecting the attention from himself. “She saves kids.”

Marley turned to Emily with interest. “Really? What do you do?”

“Nothing as heroic as Wyatt lets on. I’m a social worker. I’m in charge of foster and adoption placements in Calypso County.”

The cold hand of disaster grabbed Marley’s windpipe. She could barely breathe. Sweat prickled at the back of her neck.

A social worker. Foster care. If Emily learned about the accusations against Marley, would she take Braden? Give him to strangers?

Marley’s knees turned weak as water. Her stomach shook.

She shouldn’t have come here. She shouldn’t have agreed to spend a moment, much less the entire night, on the Triple C Ranch. She wanted to grab Braden and run. Again.

Marley struggled for calm, searching for words, some ordinary bit of conversation. But words failed her.

She felt Emily’s curious eyes on her face, felt the heat rise on her own cheeks.

Tension that neither of the Caldwells could understand vibrated like piano strings.

Connie entered the room with a tray of goodies. Thankful for the interruption, Marley accepted a warm cup of coffee, longing to escape but fearful of raising suspicion. Wyatt took a cup, too, and never left her side. Awareness of him, of his masculinity, of his quiet confidence, mingled with worries about his sister.

Wyatt was her hero. Emily was her worst nightmare.

Marley glanced toward her son.

Braden, completely unaware of the danger and with child-like adaptability, had joined the kids’ corner on a huge, multi-colored area rug. In his usual, accepting way, he munched cookies and listened to two dark-haired girls near his age explain the intricacies of some push-button, musical toy. A tiny boy with the cutest cleft chin toddled in and out of the play group, eventually crawling into the lap of a man with an identical chin. Logan? Lance? No, Levi, she thought. The baby’s dad and Emily’s husband.

Longing sprang up inside Marley.

Her son didn’t have a daddy to love and protect him and teach him how to be a man. A man like Wyatt Caldwell. Would Braden miss what he’d never had? She’d hit the jackpot with her son, but he’d gotten the short end of the deal. No dad. No extended family. A mommy in big trouble.

She wondered what this nice family would think if they knew. Would Emily grab Braden and take him away? Would the rest stare at her in shocked censor?

Gradually, and as casually as possible, she moved away from Wyatt’s sister. Conversation with a social worker could prove disastrous.

“How did you get stuck in a ravine way out here?” The questioner was a slender redhead. Whitney, Nate’s wife, if Marley remembered correctly.

Marley waved a hand and tried to be vague. “Long story. I’m a klutz sometimes. I hope we can get my car out in the morning.”

Fortunately, this was the right thing to say because the men launched into a discussion of tractors and winches and log chains. Marley tried to fade into the background, far away from Emily, one eye on her son, the other on this interesting family. They were nice people. Accepting of a stranger. Hospitable.

If they suspected she was anything except what she appeared to be, they didn’t let on. Truthfully, Marley was biding her time, getting through the pleasantries until she and Braden could escape to the mysterious guest house that she had yet to see.

When Connie offered, Marley took a second cookie, a rich chocolate sandwich with some sort of filling. “Thank you. These are amazing. Is the inside caramel?”

“Dulce de leche. Like caramel but better. Good, no?”

“Oh, yes. Perfect with coffee.”

The other woman beamed. “They are Wyatt’s favorite.”

To prove the point, Wyatt reached across her and took several, then carried them to the trio of kids on the area rug. Braden gazed up and up at the man, his innocent face trusting. Wyatt placed a wide hand on the boy’s head and opened the other, offering cookies.

That funny little twinkle moved through Marley again.

Not good, Marley. Feelings for the soldier are not allowed. Tomorrow, you are so out of here.

To where? A voice in her head whispered.

Her shoulders tightened. She didn’t know.

Braden yawned, his chocolate rimmed lips pulled wide. Wyatt noticed, took Braden’s hand, and led him back to Marley.

“Somebody’s ready for his bunk.”

She was too, though not for the same reasons. “Past his bedtime.”

“When you’re ready, I’ll show you the guest house.”

Thank goodness. She could leave without appearing ungrateful.

She went to Connie’s side. “Thank you again for everything.”

“Da nada. It is nothing. Friends are always welcome at the Triple C.”

Friends. She wouldn’t go that far. And Connie wouldn’t either if she had a clue.

They said goodnight, and Marley and Braden followed Wyatt through the kitchen, down a hall, and out a back door. A security light illuminated the space between the main house and several other buildings.

Wyatt led them across a graveled driveway toward a small cottage.

“This is the guest house. Make yourself at home.” He stuck a key in the lock and opened the door. “Ace remodeled it last year for Marisa’s brother, so don’t let the handicap accessible aspect throw you off. Chance is in a wheelchair, but he lives in his own place now.”

Marisa. Ace’s wife. The brunette in the light pink cardigan.

Marley didn’t know why she bothered to sort out Wyatt’s big family. She’d never see them again. And she regretted that. They were great people. In different circumstances, she’d be honored to call them friends.

Inside the small cottage, the light was already on. So was the heat. Someone had prepared for their arrival.

“Thoughtful.” She went to a fruit bowl on the counter. It contained gummy fruits and other kid-friendly snacks.

“Yeah.” Wyatt’s strong face softened again with affection. “That’s our Connie.”

“She’s lovely.”

“Isn’t she?”

“All of your family seem really special.”

Wyatt sighed, almost sad, and nodded. “Yeah. They are.”

Sad? Not the reaction she expected.

Braden had wandered toward the short hall to the right and peeked inside a room. “Mommy, look at this. We can finally take a shower!”

Marley flinched. Four-year-olds were not good at keeping awkward truths to themselves, and Wyatt didn’t need to know they’d washed up in the town library since leaving Tulsa.

To cover, she said, “After playing in the park, we sure need a shower, don’t we?”

“Yep.” Braden shrugged out of his parka and let it drop to the floor. At home, she would have insisted he put it away. But they weren’t home. In this strange but welcoming space, her son didn’t know where “away” was.

He disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door. Two beats later, the knob rattled wildly before he re-emerged to race back into the living area.

For a second, she thought something had scared him. But then she saw his intent. He made a beeline for Wyatt and fell into a knee hug. Wyatt’s hands reflexively closed around the child’s back.

That pesky twinkle spread over her arms and into her chest.

“Goodnight, soldier-man.” The small voice was muffled against the big man’s legs.

“’Night, bud.” Wyatt patted the little back.

Then, Braden was gone again, back to the bathroom and his urgent business.

Wyatt puffed out a soft laugh. “Sweet boy you got there.”

“Thank you.” And, regardless of your hard jaw and watchful eyes, you’re a sweet man.

“You should have everything you need out here, but if something comes up, text or call.” Wyatt raised his phone.

“We’ll be fine. And we’ll be out of your way in the morning.”

He studied her then, but she couldn’t read him, had no idea what he was thinking. She studied him in return, aware of a certain electricity in the air that hadn’t been there before. It crackled along her nerve endings and sparked.

As if he’d settled something in his head, Wyatt blinked, did an about face, soldier-like, and moved to the door. When he reached the exit, he rested a hand on the knob and turned to face her again. His features were schooled, controlled. Whatever had sparked was long gone, contained like a fire he wouldn’t let get out of control.

Was he attracted to her?

“You need to know one thing, Marley.”

“Okay.” She waited for instructions on adjusting the furnace or where the towels were kept.

His words were the last she’d expected to hear. “Whatever you’re running from, you’re safe here. You have my word.”

Then he stepped out, shut the door, and was gone.

Marley went to the small front window and touched the cold glass. She watched him, his back straight and stride long, until he was swallowed by the shadows.