A Family for Tyler. Angel Smits

      “Ms. Ivers,” he said through clenched teeth. “You don’t know me, I get that.” He turned the brim of his cowboy hat along his palm. “That’s why I’m not totally ticked off by your question. That, and I know you want what’s best for Tyler. But let me explain.”

      He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, hat in hand. He looked up and that deep blue stare held an intensity that made her flinch.

      “I’m the oldest of six kids. My dad died when I was fifteen and ever since then I’ve been taking care of my brothers and sisters. And my mom.” His eyes grew distant for an instant. “A man doesn’t turn his back on responsibility. Right now, until DJ comes home, Tyler is my responsibility.” He waited a long beat, letting his words soak in.

      She analyzed them as her gaze roamed over him. His gaze intensified, if that were possible, and the lines around his eyes and lips indicated he smiled often. He wasn’t smiling now. She didn’t expect him to, but suddenly she wanted to see him smile. Wanted to experience his strength. He was a strong man.

      “Mr. Hawkins.”

      “Please, call me Wyatt. This feels too danged formal for me.”

      She tried to smile. “Wyatt.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve been a magistrate for too long to trust the initial impression. I have to ask the hard questions. If I don’t, someone, and that someone is usually the child, gets hurt.” She couldn’t let her mind go any further. If she thought about the abuse she’d seen...that she’d experienced...

      Stop. She put her thoughts on hold, refusing to go there. Not now.

      “I understand,” he said, saving her from the threatening morass in her mind.

      “Actually, I don’t know that you do.” She couldn’t sit across from him any longer. Even with the desk between them, he was too close, too real. “You said you cared for your siblings. Who took care of you?”

      “I took care of myself.” He didn’t seem to think that was odd. “My mom worked and supported us. She was always there for me, but I didn’t need her to take care of me.” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “She passed away a few months back. She’d have loved Tyler.” His voice cracked hard.

      “I’m sorry.” Emily paced to the window to look out over the lawn that stretched across nearly a city block. She didn’t look back, but she could see him in her mind’s eye. Tall. Intense. Strong.

      Everything she expected. That was what worried her most. He couldn’t really be that good. There had to be some flaw. She had to find it, had to expose it. Then she’d know if this was really going to work. For Tyler’s sake. “Your sisters don’t live nearby, do they?” she asked. “Do you have any family here?”

      “At the ranch? No.”

      “And you’re not married, are you, Mr. Hawkins?”

      He laughed, but the sound held little humor. “No.”

      She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Is something funny?”

      “Well,” he drawled, “either you’re channeling my mother—she always bemoaned the fact that her kids had yet to marry—or you’re making a pass at me.”

      She glared at him and spun around to fully face him. “I am most certainly not.”

      He laughed again, this time warmly. “At least now you’re looking at me.” He stood and moved around the desk toward her. “I realize you have your concerns, but don’t judge me before you know me. I’ve been taking care of Tyler just fine these past weeks.”

      His laughter was gone, and she realized she’d squandered her opportunity to see the smile she’d wondered about earlier. He’d moved into her space, and she wanted desperately to move away. The cool glass of the window at her back stopped her. She looked up and noticed how tall he was. And how close.

      “I’m only trying—”

      “To do your job? I know.” His voice softened. Could he actually have moved closer? “Don’t be the judge right now. Save that for the actual courtroom. You said you’d be the caseworker. Be that now. Let me show you I can do this.”

      She stuck to her guns. “Words are easy to hear, not necessarily to believe.”

      His eyes narrowed and he clenched his jaw. She’d hit a button somewhere.

      “Then come see the world I live in, the one I’m sharing with Tyler.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a worn wallet. “Here’s my business card. Come out to the ranch and then we’ll start this conversation over again.”

      He tossed the card onto the desk and turned on his heel. He reached the door before he spoke again. “Afternoons are best, and no, I’m not trying to hide anything.” He frowned at her over one broad shoulder. “Tyler starts school tomorrow, and I refuse to have him miss any more class than he has already.”

      And with that, he left.

      * * *

      WYATT STALKED TO the elevator, resisting the urge to slam his fist into the lit button beside the double metal doors. The woman was a pain. She’d practically called him a liar, which grated on his nerves.

      She obviously thought a woman made a better caregiver than a man. He’d done just fine with his brothers and sisters, thank you very much. Granted, he’d had his mother around part of the time, and Addie. He cursed. He should have told her about Addie.

      No. That would be admitting defeat. He wanted her to realize he was perfectly capable of taking care of Tyler.

      “Mr. Hawkins.”

      He turned around and saw the judge walking toward him. He tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore the sway of her hips and how her hair rippled with her movement. She looked as ticked as he felt. Good. That meant they were in the same boat. “Yes?”

      “I’ll be there tomorrow. At three. Does that work with your schedule?” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

      Wyatt would have laughed if he weren’t so ticked. She’d be on his turf. He felt much more comfortable with that. “Perfect.”

      The tiny ding of the elevator announced the car’s arrival. The doors swished open, and he stepped inside. He lifted his hat and settled it on his head before tapping the brim just as the doors closed.

      He figured she’d be there right at three. He’d be ready at two-thirty, since Tyler got off the bus at two forty-five.

      Suddenly, Wyatt felt all of his thirty-two years. He couldn’t let Tyler down, but for the first time since he’d picked up his nephew at that godforsaken house, he didn’t want to go home. He couldn’t reassure Tyler that things were going to be okay, when one wrong thing tomorrow could end it all.

      Once Wyatt reached his truck, he sat in the cab and stared at the uglier-than-sin building. How long he sat there, he didn’t know, but the West Texas heat had permeated the very air he breathed before he turned the ignition. The air-conditioning kicked on but did little to alleviate the scorcher of an afternoon. “Damned infuriating woman,” he mumbled as he pulled out of the parking lot.

      All the questions she’d asked him rang through the air in time with the whine of the tires on the highway. No, he didn’t have a wife. No, his sisters didn’t live nearby. No, he had no intention of taking Tyler to Mars anytime this week.

      He growled at his own stupidity and frustration. He knew what he had to do. He didn’t want to admit that he couldn’t do this by himself. He’d always been the one to take care of things. The one in charge. The one who needed no one.

      This time he needed help.

      He wasn’t a fool. His pride might get in the way, but keeping Tyler was far more important than his ego. He’d learned that a long time ago, when he’d been young and stubborn.

      He