Chapter 36
Bryn
“What do you think that means?”
“Who is she?”
“It was probably just part of the show.”
“Maybe that’s Bryn from his socials.”
The whispers surround me as I beeline towards the bar with the full intention of disappearing into the kitchen. I don’t know whether to be embarrassed, pissed off, or to squeal with delight.
He claimed me. Wyatt was making sure that any person in here who might bid on him knew full well that his hat belonged on my head. Setting a tone.
Destroying any hearts before they can fall.
Keeping mine safe because I think maybe I have.
“Whooooa.” A figure appears from my right, just before I make it to the doors leading into the back. Quinn grabs hold of my arm, swinging me around to face the entire bar again. “This is the part you don’t want to miss.”
“Yes, I do,” I hiss at her. “I saw the show, claimed the hat, but do not want to see anyone win a date with him.”
A slow, coy smile slides across her lips, her turquoise eyes lighting up with mischief. The same kind that I saw in Wyatt’s eyes moments before he dropped to the ground in front of me.
“I promise you do.”
Suspicion fills my belly, and I slide a hand down my stomach to calm it. “You knew he was going to do that, didn’t you?”
“I told you months ago we were going to find you a cowboy to marry,” she says, hugging my arm to her side. “What kind of wingwoman would I be if I let all of that burn now?”
“You knew—”
“Shhh,” she cuts me off, pointing at the stage. “Let’s see how much he’s going to spend.”
My head whips back towards her, unsure that I heard her correctly. “You mean how much someone is willing to pay for his date.”
Quinn’s eyes slide sideways towards me, but she just smiles, that coyness firmly in place. “Watch.”
Clamping my jaw together, I do as she says, looking up on the stage as Liam, still clad in his jeans and now-open shirt, points to someone in the crowd who has already placed a bid.
Wyatt stands near his side, hands rubbing together in front of his chest. A very bare chest, since he lost his shirt at the end of his performance.
Now that I’m closer than I was, though, there’s something there that I am positive wasn’t there the last time I saw him shirtless.
A new tattoo.
From this distance, I can’t read the script, but whatever it is takes up his entire left pec, swirls of vines or flowers linking it and the bear at the top of his shoulder.
“One thousand,” a voice in the crowd rings out.
Liam has time to point at it before another yells, “Fifteen.”
“Oh, he’s so fucked,” Quinn mutters with a hint of glee beside me.
Him. He’s so fucked. Why would Wyatt be fucked?
The bidding gets up to four thousand when a new voice calls, “Five thousand.”
A voice I know very well. One that was speaking to me before Wyatt went on stage.
Gran.
“What the fuck is she doing?” I spit out, taking a step forward as though I’m going to run across the entire bar just to stop whatever crazy plan she’s concocted.
I’m an idiot. How did I not see her meddling coming? She said she wanted to join Mildred here tonight because Mildred always supports Nate—usually by winning Brody’s date, which is the only way he puts himself up for auction. But of course that was only an excuse.
“Spending Wyatt’s money,” Quinn states, like the words don’t blow up my entire brain.
Yanking my arm free of her, I turn towards her, no longer listening to the auction. “Stop fucking around. What does that mean?”
“Oh, I’m probably not supposed to tell you this, but again, wing woman, you’re my girl, and I think you should know,” she says, pulling her gaze away from what’s going on, on stage, to look at me. “Wyatt told Ruby to save anything she was going to pay him and use it to bid on his date.”
My head jerks back in shock. “What? Why?”
Quinn laughs, slinging an arm over my shoulder to turn me back towards the stage. With her this close, it’s easy to whisper in my ear. “Because that man up there? I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s in love with you. You’re blind if you think he’d go on a date with anyone but you, girl.”
Looking up at the stage, my eyes are immediately drawn to Wyatt.
The man isn’t looking out over the crowd, or at the battle going on back and forth to win his date.
He’s staring at me with a look of adoration I’ve never seen him wear, like his heart is truly being worn on his sleeve for everyone to witness.
My eyes prickle with emotion at what I can feel from him, even from this distance.
Like he’s shed some kind of mask he’s been wearing all this time and is letting me see exactly how he feels without holding it back.
It has my heart galloping as fast as one of our horses through a field after being spooked.
“Sold!” Liam yells to the crowd. “To the silver haired beauty with the purple scarf.”
Gran.
Or should I say, Wyatt.