been giving him when he’d been explaining how to inoculate a goat.
“Yeah, W-W-Wyatt,” said Christopher Harrington, a resentful young man who thought he was better than the others because he came from a wealthy home. Christopher hadn’t yet learned the hard truth that the boys were all on equal footing here at the ranch. “What about the g-g-g-g-g-goats?”
Wyatt frowned at Christopher’s exaggerated stutter as he made fun of Johnny. Poor Johnny’s shoulders drooped and his bitter gaze sizzled the ground at his feet.
“Knock it off, Christopher. You boys are done for the day. Go somewhere else and find something useful to do.”
The young men didn’t have to be told twice before they scattered. They weren’t used to receiving a sudden chunk of free time.
Only Johnny hung back and didn’t follow the other boys. His stutter made him the object of ridicule, but Johnny found solace reading books and working with the ranch animals, who accepted him just the way he was.
Wyatt understood that, which was one of the main reasons he had taken Johnny under his wing, mentoring the boy with an eye to getting him into college and eventually, if Johnny excelled in his studies, veterinary school.
As much as the teenagers mercilessly teased Johnny, that was nothing close to what would happen if they got a whiff of what was happening between Wyatt and Carolina now. There was no telling what kind of havoc the boys would wreak with that kind of information.
It was time to be proactive, to deal with this situation with Carolina and Matty before anyone else found out about what had happened between them. They needed to get their stories straight and nip any rumors in the bud.
Or did everyone already know?
Was it possible that he was the only man in Haven who wasn’t aware he had a son?
Fury and humiliation lapped like flames in his chest and he struggled to maintain his composure. He gritted his teeth and crossed his arms, digging his fingernails into his biceps and fighting for control of his temper.
“I know you must be angry with me.” Carolina paused, her eyes uncertain. “Aren’t you?”
He raised his eyebrows.
Angry?
That was the understatement of the century. He was mad enough to want to put his fist through a brick wall, just to try to transfer some of the pain in his chest to his hand. He felt like he was about to explode.
“How long were you planning on keeping this secret from me?” he snapped, jamming his hands into the pockets of his fleece-lined jeans jacket to keep from punching the air in frustration. “I can’t believe you kept my own son from me, Carolina. How could you?”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
The fire in his chest burned even hotter. How could she even consider suggesting that her motives were altruistic? Did she really think that leaving him without sharing the knowledge that she was carrying his baby wouldn’t wound him?
He scoffed. “Of course not. You somehow thought I’d be better off not knowing that I have a son.”
“W-W-Wyatt?”
Wyatt turned. He’d somehow forgotten—again—that Johnny was still at his side.
The boy pushed his hair off his forehead. Wyatt could see how agitated Johnny was, clenching and unclenching his fists in a silent, steady rhythm. The poor kid looked like he was about to jump out of his skin.
It struck Wyatt suddenly that he was the cause. Johnny was ultrasensitive and was picking up on the tension between him and Carolina. Wyatt took a deep breath and let it out slowly. No sense upsetting the young man. There was enough anger and grief in this scenario without involving the boy.
He clapped a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s all good. Carolina and I just have a few...issues to work out between us.”
He pointed to the herd of goats, who were now grazing their way through another field. “Do you think you could finish vaccinating the goats?”
Wyatt nodded toward the clipboard, which contained the list of the names of all the goats. He’d dropped the clipboard in the grass earlier, when he’d had his hands full teaching the group of boys how to give a goat a subcutaneous vaccine.
“I think there are four or five of them we haven’t vaccinated yet. Do you remember how to do it?”
“Y-y-yes, sir,” replied Johnny, looking relieved to have a reason to avoid being around the strained reunion between Wyatt and Carolina.
Wyatt returned his attention to Carolina and Matty, who was now wiggling and squirming in his mother’s arms, pumping his chunky arms and legs in an awkward rhythm. He clearly wanted to get down, but Carolina refused, clutching the child like a lifeline.
Wyatt clenched his fists. Had his heated response affected Matty as it had Johnny?
With every ounce of his self-control, Wyatt pressed his anger—along with all of his other barely containable and ignitable emotions—to the back of his mind and heart and firmly boarded them in.
He had to get past the fact that Carolina had abruptly sprung fatherhood on him. All that mattered was taking care of Matty. His needs would always come first, no matter what.
Wyatt was going to be there for his son, and that started right now.
“Can I—” he fumbled, but his voice was husky. He cleared his throat. “May I hold him?”
“Of course.” Carolina sounded surprised that he would ask—as if she hadn’t expected him to step up to the plate.
What was she thinking? That he would deny the truth that was right in front of his eyes? Or maybe it was the opposite—that she feared he was going to step in and take over.
Now that was a thought.
He held out his arms to Matty, feeling suddenly large and ungainly. Abruptly shy, Matty tucked his head into his mother’s shoulder and curled closer to her.
Wyatt’s heart plummeted and he dropped his hands to his sides, wiping his sweaty palms against the denim of his blue jeans.
Strike one.
“Wyatt, wait.” Carolina held up her hand to him, gesturing for him to come closer. Then to Matty, she said, “Son, this is—” She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening in dismay as it met Wyatt’s. “Um—this is Mr. Wyatt. He’s a very nice man. Don’t you want to say hello to him?”
Mr. Wyatt. Not Father. Not Daddy.
Talk about disheartening. But then, what did he expect from his first encounter with his son? That the years apart didn’t matter? That Matty didn’t know him from a stranger?
He was a stranger to his son.
He stuffed the anger down as quickly as it rose, afraid Matty would be able to sense it.
At least this time, when Wyatt reached for him, Matty stretched out his little arms and wrapped them tightly around Wyatt’s neck.
Wyatt struggled to swallow, and not because Matty was cutting off his air. It just felt so new. So strange.
And yet somehow, so right.
Matty still sported the chunky arms and legs and chubby cheeks of toddlerhood, so Wyatt was surprised by how light the boy was. Wasn’t he getting enough to eat?
“Where are you staying?” he asked as he mentally adjusted to the feel of Matty in his arms. He wasn’t accustomed to holding children of any age. He was much more comfortable around the animals he vetted. He was only just getting used to teaching the kids at the boys ranch, and there wasn’t much physical contact between them, other than the occasional encouraging pat on the back.
And all of the sudden he had a two-year-old son?
“We’re