Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
ROD
My eyes followed Wyl as he sauntered out after class.
His sexy rancher strut and perfect ass hogged my field of vision.
My insides trembled with thoughts of the upcoming trip to Big Spring.
On the first day of class, we got along well.
Our before-class coffee and the smile he flashed me today added to my delicious anticipation.
I reminded myself not to become involved with a student.
Besides, his friendliness may be nothing more than a need to bond with his instructor.
His uncertainty about being a college student at his age made it understandable for him to appreciate a professor who helped ease his tension.
I sighed and gathered my materials. If only he didn’t have the straight-guy appearance, and no college rule existed against dating students, and the sting of Patrick’s sudden departure didn’t still haunt me.
I became an old pro at the if-only mindset. But I can dream, can't I?
Back in my office, I overheard Stella answer the phone. I never paid much attention to her calls, but this one caught my ear. “Oh, hi, Mitzi.”
Mitzi. The one Wyl mentioned as Walt’s ex-wife.
My gut clenched. I must defend Wyl against the person who made his brother miserable, and thus him.
Nobody helped me when Patrick left me with a mess to clean up.
But I want to be strong for Wyl and will do what I can to keep Stella from feeding information to Mitzi.
“Yes, he came in this morning,” Stella said.
I wondered about the he she mentioned. Mitzi knew nothing about me, except that Stella may have mentioned me as her boss. That left only Wyl. And he left. It's too bad I only heard her side of the conversation.
“Me, ask Wyl out? I don’t know if that’s…”
Shit. Did Mitzi encourage Stella to pursue Wyl? If Stella relied on others to set her up with men, she must either be desperate or a floozy. I turned my nosy hearing up a notch or two.
“Yes, he is handsome, and I sure wouldn’t mind having his arms wrapped around me.”
I shuddered at the visual. Handsome, athletic, olive-skinned Wyl holding pudgy, fair-skinned, overly-made-up Stella? No way would I stand by and let that happen.
“I don’t know who he hangs out with on campus, but he does hang out with Dr. Bonner.”
Resentment crept in. We did not hang out. We discussed the class. Not that I didn’t wish we hung out together. But give Stella any hint of a rumor, and it spreads faster than a wildfire on dry West Texas prairie grass. I needed to stop Stella before she went into broadcast mode, but how?
“Okay, I’ll chat him up the next chance I get.” Stella’s second line rang. “Listen, I need to go. I’ll keep you posted.”
This Mitzi witch tried to convince Stella to pursue Wyl. I needed to learn more about Mitzi and hoped Wyl would share more of the history.
“Okay.” Stella sounded frustrated.
End the call already. I don’t have all day to eavesdrop. I almost laughed as I admitted to doing the exact thing I accused Stella of doing—eavesdropping on the conversations of others.
“Bye.” She took the next call.
So, Mitzi recruited Stella. Should I warn Wyl? He did say he had nobody at home but Walt, so he’s not married. Perhaps he seeks female companionship. I should keep quiet. If I said something, he might take it the wrong way. And I wanted to keep our morning coffee habit going.
* * *
The following week flew by. On the days the music class met, Wyl came early, and we shared coffee.
I treasured those times, and it appeared Wyl did, too.
But with Stella’s nosiness and tendency to spread rumors, which I briefed Wyl on, we decided to avoid any after-class chats.
Wyl offered a smile when leaving the classroom, and I snuck a subtle nod if I passed him on campus.
I resisted the urge to jog over and spend time with the handsome Marine.
I overheard no additional phone calls to Stella from Mitzi.
Still, I stayed vigilant in case another conversation between them caught my ear.
* * *
Friday evening, I leaned my butt against the front fender of my truck and waited under the covered parking pavilion for Wyl.
Keeping the late summer sun off the truck helped.
Waves of anticipation still prickled my stomach.
An evening in the company of Wyl Sterling felt like a date.
I was no expert because my last date happened years ago.
But the handsome rancher occupied the dream-come-true category.
A light-colored pickup rolled into the parking lot at 4:50, gravel crunching under the tires.
Wyl waved through the windshield. Attention from this man thrilled me, but I tamped down my enthusiasm.
Thinking of him as a friend was dangerous enough.
Thinking of him as more, asked for trouble.
He parked and stepped out of his truck. I drank in Wyl’s confident swagger and a smile warm enough to melt a snow cone.
Shit. Imagining being with him was one thing, but this guy pushed all my buttons at once.
He reached for a handshake. “Howdy, Rod.”
His cowboy greeting sent a thrill through me. As I gripped Wyl’s dry, rough hand, a pleasing zing traveled up my arm and headed for my groin.
Wyl raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay? You look kinda stunned.”
“I’m fine,” I sputtered. Shit. He's too observant. I need to keep my expressions neutral.
“You have a parking spot under the pavilion. Your truck won’t be so hot.” Wyl’s warm smile did things to my stomach.
I grinned, my hand still gripping Wyl’s. “Summer in West Texas, eh?”
Wyl glanced around the empty parking lot. “I'm glad you mentioned your truck color. So many gray pickups.”
My turn to draw my lower lip between my teeth. I glanced around the parking lot, more to avoid Wyl’s grey-green eyes than to determine the total lack of vehicles other than ours. “Yep. All the other gray trucks left. You missed them by a couple of minutes.”
Wyl nudged my shoulder. “I’m joshing you. Going to this concert is a treat.”
“For me, too.” I thumbed to my truck. “In case you’re confused, this one is mine.”
Wyl laughed. “I kinda hoped you would point it out.”
We climbed in. “I’m glad you’re going along.” I pulled my door closed. “Concerts are more enjoyable if I have someone with me.” Especially tanned, sexy Marines, whom I am definitely not getting into a relationship with. Shit, did saying I enjoyed it more if someone was with me sound like a come-on?
Wyl closed his door and turned to me, waggling his eyebrows. “This concert should be a blast with me tagging along. However, you’ll need to do a lot of explaining. I know nothing about orchestra concerts.”
"You haven’t been paying attention in class.”
A blush pinked Wyl’s tanned cheeks, an event I enjoy, perhaps a bit too much. I hoped to find more ways to make my rancher blush. Wait. My rancher? Oh, brother.
Seat belts clicked, and I started the truck. “You feeling okay? Your face is kind of red.”
Wyl glanced toward me and grinned. “Walking over to your truck is a strenuous exercise for an old man.”
I spoke with a chuckle. “Yeah, those twenty-foot casual strolls are hard on a body.”
“Your face reddened the other day in the break room.” Wyl elbow-nudged me. “And you only stood from a sitting position.”
“Shut up, and stop noticing when I turn red.”
Wyl gazed at me. “You mean like now?”
“You’re a funny guy.” I laughed and eased out of the parking lot and onto the highway. “I enjoy our chats before class, but the start of the semester always keeps me busy. We’ve chatted about our families and school, but now we have time to catch up. Tell me more about the real Wyl.”
Wyl glanced at me. “Okay. Like what?”
“You mentioned being a cryptologist when you introduced yourself to the class. Explain what a cryptologist does, and what you did in the Marines.”
“Sure. I didn’t realize you were interested. Most people find my Marine stories boring.”
“I’m not most people, and I can’t imagine you as boring.” I glanced at Wyl.
Wyl nudged me again. “Okay. You asked for it. As a teen, I loved cryptograms and word puzzles, so I decided to go into cryptography when I joined the Marines. The government codes anything it wants to hide, and I created the code for it. In my first year, I developed code on paper, but computers soon became the only way. I guess I learned well. After twenty years of service, the honchos in Washington asked me to re-up, but since Walt ran the ranch alone, I needed to be here to do my part. Even with our work crew, running the ranch is more than one person can handle. That, and the frequent relocation, got tiresome. I did my time. Not that they couldn’t call me back into service if something arose, but that’s rare. ”
“Is it common for retired military to be…what…redrafted?” Since I didn’t enlist, I knew nothing about the terminology.
“If World War Three broke out, almost every former military man under 50 would be contacted. While we don’t expect anything drastic, my unique skills put me on a short list for recall.”
I couldn’t imagine. Wyl fit the rancher type, although I didn’t know what he did on the ranch. He conveyed a fondness as he spoke about helping his brother.
“When I attended high school, other students mentioned the Sterling family and a ranch west of town. I’m not much on ranching, but on your first day, Stella mentioned a huge spread.”
“My great-grandfather, Grover Sterling, settled what is now a 6,400-acre ranch. They had two sons, but one died young, so the ranch passed to my Grandpa Jacob. He and Grandma Sarah had only one child. She couldn’t have more children after Dad was born, so the ranch passed to him. It now belongs to Walt and me.”
“It must have been fun growing up on a ranch.”
Wyl nodded. “Yes. I worked, of course, but did most of it on horseback. Walt and I both love riding. We are a year apart, and both grew up ranching. In high school, I played sports, but he didn’t.
Our high school friends called us Wyl and Won’t because he didn’t want to play ball.
I’m a year older, and we’re both the same build, but he had no interest in team sports. ”
“And Walt took care of the ranch by himself until you retired?” Knowing nothing about running a ranch, I wondered how many people it took to manage. “What happened to your folks?”
“They died in a plane crash three years ago.
Dad loved to fly and bought a small twin-engine plane.
He graded an airstrip on the ranch. He and Mom flew all over the country, going where they wanted when they wanted.
They hit a storm over the New Mexico mountains and crashed.
I came home for the funeral but didn't stay long because I was involved in a critical assignment. When the assignment ended three years later, I retired.”
“Losing parents is tough. Both my parents are gone, too. Car accident.”
Wyl’s background impressed me. This handsome man was a computer programmer with skills still valued by the government and half-owner of a vast ranch.
My doctorate in music paled in comparison.
I wasn’t wealthy. My family did well financially, but my parents were careful with money and never cared about being part of the country club set, which is another reason why we'll be no more than campus friends.