Chapter 34
Bryn
A low whistle fills the air, causing a smile to spread across my face. Wyatt’s sitting on a rock at the top of the waterfall where the controls to the fountain lie, tools scattered out on the rocks next to him.
“Don’t you look nice,” he calls when I get closer.
The way his eyes rake down the length of my pink dress sends my stomach swooping. The tray I’m carrying has two glasses of lemonade and a sweet treat courtesy of Gran.
“Went for lunch with Savanna, then met up with the rest of the girls,” I explain, setting the tray down on the flattest rock near him.
He nods knowingly. “Nate mentioned you guys were going out.”
Putting my hands on my hips, I jut a hip out. “We were shopping for someone’s auction dance.”
Wyatt grins at me, half lifting his shoulder like he doesn’t want to admit it was for his performance.
Somehow in the last few weeks, he’s managed to wrangle the girls into help him with his number, along with the guys.
Savanna told me today it was actually Wyatt’s brother, Boone, who convinced the girls.
Or her. Then she worked her magic on everyone else.
Except me. She didn’t ask me whether I wanted to be part of it. But why would she? He’s being auctioned off for a date, for goodness sake. Wyatt and I are friends. That’s it.
I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to keep telling myself that and believing it, though.
The day he knelt in front of me, branding me with his touch so he’d be the last man I felt, unlocked something in me.
The shift was immediate, like a wind whipping through my entire mind and body, clearing it of everything except Wyatt.
Since that first night we danced together, I’ve always felt safe with him, but that day took it to an intrinsic level that I’ve spent every moment since trying to comprehend.
I still haven’t figured it out. Which makes the thought of him going on a date with some other girl impossible to think about without a flood of jealousy, even if it’s my own doing.
“Gran said you’ve been working out here for hours,” I say, grabbing one of the lemonades and offering it to him. “I thought I’d bring you some refreshments.”
After taking the glass, he eyes the treats on the tray. “And Moon Pies. You sure know how to treat a guy right.”
The compliment has a blush staining my cheeks.
Gesturing to the rock beside him, he asks, “Care to sit?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s clearing the space of his tools, and I smooth a hand over the front of my dress at the action.
I brought refreshments for both of us, so it’s ridiculous that a bout of nerves is hitting me, my brain telling me I shouldn’t stay while something else urges me to plant my ass.
We’re friends. Friends are allowed to have lemonade and Moon Pies together.
Giving in, I slide my hands over my butt to tuck my dress under as I sit down. When I’m situated, I point at the tools he lays out in front of him. “How’s everything coming?”
Taking a sip of his lemonade, he kicks his feet out in front of him, stretching his long legs.
I’m not sure how he’s spent so much time in jeans over the summer, but I suppose growing up on a ranch, riding horses, he’s used to it.
Not that summer will last much longer. It’s a beautiful day, but the evenings are chillier now that it’s late September.
“I think I’m making progress.” He eyes me as he sets his glass down next to him, then lifts his baseball hat with a logo of his family’s ranch to wipe the sweat off his brow. “Wanna help me?”
My heart swells with love and heartache for moments that only live in my head now. Grandpa asking me the same thing when I’d come into the backyard to see what he was doing. In this very spot. So many times over a glass of lemonade.
Eagerly, I nod. “Yeah. I do.”
Patting his stomach, he demands in a cookie monster voice, “Moon Pie first.”
It makes me giggle, and I twist to grab the treats off the tray, handing him one.
We unwrap them silently, though I’m not totally paying attention to what I’m doing and finally stop working on the wrapper.
The way Wyatt’s hands deftly work, pulling the plastic off, catches my attention as the muscles in his forearm flex.
It’s ridiculous, really. He’s not even doing anything with them, but I can’t stop staring as he lifts the marshmallow sandwich to his lips and takes a bite.
Of course, that’s when he notices me noticing him, the pie still at his lips. He lifts an eyebrow in my direction. “What?”
Shaking my head, I finally break mine open. “Nothing. I was just, uh, looking… at, uh, your… tattoos!” The last word comes out in a breath of excitement that my brain kicked into gear, deciding not to leave me hanging. “Yes! Your tattoos.”
There’s a smirk on his face, like he knows I wasn’t looking at his tattoos, and I shove my Moon Pie into my mouth to keep from saying anything else. Though, I suppose I was looking at them. It’s not my fault his muscles were distracting me.
After he’s more than half demolished his pie, and I’m a few bites in, I comment, “Gran told me you took her for lunch yesterday.”
“Yeah, her and Mildred.” In amusement, he shakes his head.
“What’s that look for?” I ask.
He leans back, slowing his eager mouth from finishing the pie. “We went to this fancy place. Fancier than I was expecting—”
“Were you as sweaty as you are now? They probably liked that.” The words come out before I have a chance to stop them.
When his eyebrows shoot to the sky, I know my question admitted my guilt in also liking it. But I keep my head high, not backing down from my comment. I do like it. I can appreciate that my friend is hot. There are plenty of friends that I find hot. Savanna, Quinn, Liam. Hell, all of them.
Minus Nate. He’s too brotherly to be hot.
“Not sweaty. Fresh out of the shower,” he says, and without intending, my eyes drop down to his body. They pop back up a moment later, realizing he probably meant to make me do that. His grin confirms it. “Jeans, white t-shirt, and my cowboy hat.”
Nibbling thoughtfully on my pie, I glance at him again, rocking my head back and forth. “I suppose you probably looked okay like that too.”
“Woman…” The word sounds like a warning, but it’s full of the same playfulness my words were.
“Okay, tell me. What happened?” I ask, turning towards him on the rock to give him my full attention without interruption.
Except this time he’s the one that interrupts.
Not with words, but with his eyes when they fall from mine to the skin exposed on my chest, now front and center for him.
The plunge of the V neckline in my dress has cleavage forming even with my only-a-handful breasts, and Wyatt isn’t being shy about looking.
It has warmth filling my belly.
“So, we, uh,” he starts, then finally looks away, shoving the remainder of his treat into his mouth. He refuses to look at me while he chews. Then, swallowing thickly, he says, “Go to this place, and it’s, uh, fancy.”
I can’t help the giggle that escapes. “You mentioned that already.”
This feels like a turn of events. Since the day I told him I couldn’t see him anymore, it seemed like he was calm and collected whenever I saw him.
Holding it together, keeping anything brewing beneath the surface at bay.
But now he’s like a pile of nerves, and I can’t deny that I’m enjoying it. Even more than the muscles.
“Right, so, we…” Again, he looks at me, and again his eyes drop, like he can’t help himself. Which leads to him giving his head a hard shake. Brushing the crumbs off his fingers onto his jeans, he then reaches for his lemonade. “Fuck. I can’t look at you right now. That dress is distracting.”
“You were fine a few minutes ago,” I muse.
“No, I wasn’t.” Wyatt doesn’t skip a beat. “I haven’t been fine since the second you came in the backyard.”
Biting my lip to keep from either gasping or giggling, I stare at him for a moment, totally flabbergasted. I wouldn’t have guessed that. “It hasn’t seemed like it.”
“Only because you were too busy looking at my ink.” Finally, he turns back towards me, this time keeping his eyes above my neck. For now. “But I haven’t stopped looking.”
When his eyes dip, I can’t help but laugh when he throws his head back in exasperation for himself.
“I’m sorry, this dress is just too good,” he groans, staring up at the sky. “It’s making me a wreck.”
“Should I take it off right now?” I tease.
The grin on my face fades away when Wyatt’s head snaps forward, and I see the pure heat in his eyes. An inferno raging within, leashed and contained, but just barely, and I’m flirting with the door that would consume me if I opened it.
“Move one inch in any direction right now, and I will not be responsible for what I do next,” he says, and as his gaze drops once more, this time in slow pursual, he licks his lips.
I’m not sure if he means so he can feast on the sight of me, or because if I move, I’ll be prey and he the predator, ready to strike.
Either way, I don’t move, and with deliberateness, his eyes drift back up and he leans back, digging a hand into the pocket of his jeans. It takes me a moment to realize that he’s adjusting himself, and I blow out a breath, desperately trying to keep my eyes above his belt.
Friends. Friends, friends, friends.
“Tell me what happened yesterday,” I say, bringing the conversation back around to lunch with Gran.
And just as I intended, it’s like throwing a bucket of cold water on the man in front of me, and he pulls his hand out and leans forward, his shoulders curling inward. Nothing like bringing up a grandmother to help curb any dirty thoughts going through our minds.
“Right, Ruby and Mildred.” Wyatt blows out a breath, takes his baseball hat off, and runs his forearm across his forehead.
“We went to a fancy place, and I’m not sure if they planned this or not, but there was a group of women having lunch there too.
About their age. It was clear when we all walked in that they knew each other. ”