She hoped to see two horses but realized Wyatt was returning without Astrid. She released an exasperated breath. The child had likely twisted Wyatt’s arm into staying. She lost sight of him when he reached the river and waited for him to cross over.

When minutes passed without sight of him, she set the basket down and hurried along the dirt path that led to the river. Upon reaching the bank, she stopped short at the sight of him stripped to his waist and kneeling at the water’s edge.

She hid behind a bush, though the branches with their dried leaves could hardly conceal her. Her mind traveled back to the first time she’d happened upon Wyatt at the river, how he’d been in his union suit. She had been embarrassed to see him in such scant attire and also reluctant to disturb his morning routine. Since then, she’d refrained from going to the river until he had time to groom and bathe.

Now in full daylight, his sculpted chest and arms and shoulders were fully visible. As he splashed water over his arms and scrubbed away the blood, she couldn’t make herself look away. She knew she ought to. She was leaving the ranch and couldn’t let herself admire this man, not when she’d never see him again.

She took a step back, but then he straightened and she froze again. The sunlight glistened off the water that ran down his arms and chest into the trousers that sat low on his hips. He’d discarded his hat in the grass next to his shirt, and his hair was damp and slicked back. His handsome features were made darker by the unshaven stubble that covered his jaw and chin.

He was the handsomest man she’d ever seen. She’d known it the day she’d first watched him saunter down the street toward her in Fairplay. And it was truer now seeing him this way.

She’d once marveled that he’d been interested in her since she wasn’t anyone special and didn’t have the ravishing beauty of some women. Now, after knowing about the cattle deal, she realized he hadn’t had any initial feelings of attraction.

Even if his interest had developed over the past few months, she no longer knew how to interpret his intentions.

“And it doesn’t matter,” she whispered to herself sternly. It didn’t matter what Wyatt thought about her. She was leaving, and he’d be free to find a woman of his own choosing when he was ready rather than having a stranger foisted on him.

“I can see you, Greta.” Humor laced his voice.

She pulled herself up tall, trying to retain some dignity. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be bathing, or I wouldn’t have come.”

“Didn’t think you’d want me walking into the cabin full of blood and guts.”