Chapter 8
Emmy
Ican't stop replaying it.
The brush of Wyatt's thumb across my cheek yesterday, rough calloused skin against mine, the way his storm-gray eyes lingered like he was one second away from kissing me. The keys to his barn were heavy in my pocket, weighted with trust and possibility.
And then the step back. Always the step back.
Now I'm sitting in the clinic office with a mug of lukewarm hot chocolate, staring at architectural sketches for the barn space instead of the intake forms I should be reviewing. Outside, snow falls steadily, coating Hope Peak in fresh white that makes the Christmas lights sparkle like diamonds.
I should be thinking about work. About Mrs. Patterson's diabetic cat or the vaccination schedule for the Murphy's new puppies. Instead, all I can think about is Wyatt Callahan and how my body lights up every time he gets too close.
The bell on the front door jingles, pulling me from my thoughts. Carly breezes in carrying two steaming cups and wearing a grin that spells trouble.
"Emergency cocoa delivery," she announces, setting one down in front of me. "You looked like you needed backup when I saw you through the window."
"Just planning the barn renovation," I say, hoping she doesn't notice the flush creeping up my neck.
"Right. Because thinking about construction makes you glow like the town Christmas tree." She flops into the chair across from me, eyes sparkling with mischief. "This is about the grumpy rancher, isn't it?"
I groan, pressing my forehead to the desk. "You're insufferable."
"Adorable," she corrects. "And right. Spill. What happened?"
Before I can deflect, my phone buzzes with a text from Wyatt:
Wyatt
Crew finished early. Barn's ready for your equipment whenever you want to move it.
My pulse kicks up just seeing his name on the screen. "I need to go to the ranch."
Carly's eyebrows shoot up. "Now?"
"He said the space is ready." I'm already grabbing my coat, trying to ignore the way my hands shake slightly. "I should check it out, start planning the setup."
"Mmm-hmm. And this has nothing to do with wanting to see Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding again?"
I don't answer, which is answer enough.
The drive to Dry Creek takes twenty minutes, but it feels like hours.
Christmas music plays softly on the radio, and I pass houses decorated with lights and wreaths, families building snowmen in their yards.
The whole world feels like it's preparing for something magical, and I wonder if I'm included in that magic or just an observer.
The ranch looks like a winter postcard when I arrive. Snow covers the fields in pristine white, and smoke curls from the main house chimney. The barn stands silhouetted against the gray sky, looking solid and purposeful and somehow more welcoming than before.
I find Wyatt inside, checking the new electrical outlets Matty's crew installed. He's wearing dark jeans and a gray sweater that hugs his broad shoulders, and when he looks up at my approach, those piercing eyes hit me like a physical force.
"You came fast," he says, straightening.
"You said it was ready." I try to keep my voice professional, but it comes out breathier than intended. "I'm eager to see what we're working with."
He nods toward the far corner where new walls partition off a section of the loft. "Office space is over there. Treatment area's set up near the main doors for easy access."
I follow him through the space, acutely aware of his presence beside me. The renovation is more extensive than I expected. Fresh drywall, proper insulation, even a small sink and cabinet for supplies. It's clearly designed with veterinary work in mind, thoughtful and practical.
"Wyatt, this is..." I trail off, overwhelmed. "You didn't have to do all this."
"Wanted it done right." He runs a hand through his dark hair, a gesture I'm learning means he's uncomfortable with gratitude. "Animals deserve proper care."
"It's perfect." I turn to face him, and suddenly we're standing closer than either of us intended. Close enough that I can see the flecks of blue in his gray eyes, smell his scent of leather and woodsmoke that makes my knees weak.
"Good," he says, his voice rougher than before.
The air between us crackles with the same tension that's been building for weeks. I should step back, maintain professional distance, but my feet won't obey. Instead, I find myself moving closer.
"The community fundraiser is tomorrow night," I say, though I'm not sure why I'm telling him this. "At the community center. Carly's organized it to help families who can't afford Christmas gifts."
"Sounds nice."
"You should come."
The invitation slips out before I can stop it, and I see surprise flicker across his face. "I don't really do community events."
"Maybe it's time you started."
We stare at each other, and I can see the war raging behind his eyes. Want battling with self-preservation, loneliness fighting against the safety of isolation.
"I'll think about it," he says finally.
It's not a yes, but it's not a no either. I'll take it.
We walk through the rest of the space, discussing equipment placement and storage needs, but the conversation feels secondary to the awareness humming between us.
Every accidental brush of fingers when he hands me something sends sparks shooting through me.
Every time our eyes meet, the air grows thicker.
"There's one more thing," he says as we finish the tour. "Something I wanted to show you."
He leads me up to the renovated loft, where a large window now frames a view of the ranch's western pastures. The glass is new, clear, and through it I can see the mountains rising in the distance, their peaks painted gold by the late afternoon sun.
"It's beautiful," I breathe.
"Thought you'd appreciate it. For when you're working late."
The thoughtfulness of the gesture hits me hard. He planned this view for me, considered what would make the space welcoming and comfortable. It's such a small thing, but it feels enormous.
"Thank you," I whisper, turning to face him.
He's closer than expected, having moved while I was distracted by the view. Close enough that I can see the shadow of stubble along his jaw, feel the warmth radiating from his body.
"Emmy," he says, my name rough with want.
This time, when he reaches for me, I don't hesitate. I step into his arms, my hands fisting in his sweater as his mouth finds mine.
The kiss is different from our previous encounters. Less desperate, more deliberate. He kisses me like he has all the time in the world, like he wants to savor every second. His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones with devastating gentleness.
I melt into him, every nerve ending coming alive under his touch. When his tongue traces my lower lip, I open for him with a soft sigh that he swallows with his mouth.
His hands slide down to my waist, pulling me closer until we're pressed together from chest to hip. I can feel the hard planes of his body against my curves, the rapid beat of his heart matching mine.
"We should stop," he murmurs against my lips, even as his hands roam lower, cupping my hips.
"Should we?" I arch into him, delighting in the way his breath catches.
Instead of answering, he lifts me onto the workbench beside the window, stepping between my parted thighs. The new angle brings us even closer, and I wrap my legs around his waist to anchor him to me.
His mouth trails down my neck, finding that sensitive spot below my ear that makes me gasp. I tilt my head back, giving him better access, my fingers tangling in his hair.
"You're driving me crazy," he admits against my skin, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Good," I breathe. "I was starting to think you didn't want this."
He pulls back to look at me, eyes blazing with intensity. "I want this more than my next breath. That's the problem."
Before I can ask what he means, the sound of vehicles in the yard breaks the spell. We spring apart, both breathing hard, as voices carry across the snow.
"Matty's crew," Wyatt says, running a hand over his face. "They're early."
I hop down from the workbench, smoothing my hair and trying to look professional. But there's no hiding what we were doing. My lips feel swollen, my cheeks flushed, and I'm pretty sure my sweater is askew.
"I should go," I say, grabbing my coat. "Let you get back to work."
He nods, but catches my hand as I pass. "The fundraiser tomorrow. What time?"
Hope flutters in my chest. "Seven o'clock."
"I'll be there."
The promise in his voice makes my heart race. I squeeze his hand once, then hurry from the barn before I do something that will scandalize Matty's entire crew.
The drive back to town passes in a blur of snow-covered fields and the memory of Wyatt's hands on my skin. By the time I reach the clinic, my mind is spinning with possibilities and fears in equal measure.
Inside, I find Carly waiting with a knowing smirk and another cup of cocoa.
"So," she says, settling into her favorite chair. "How was the barn inspection?"
"Educational," I say, trying for innocent.
"Uh-huh. And that's why you look like you've been thoroughly kissed?"
Heat floods my face. "Carly!"
"I'm just saying, if that man doesn't ask you out soon, I'm going to stage an intervention. The sexual tension between you two could power the Christmas lights on Main Street."
I bury my face in my hands, but I can't stop the smile spreading across my lips. Tomorrow night, Wyatt Callahan is coming to a community event. For me. It feels like a miracle and a terrifying leap of faith all at once.
"He's coming to the fundraiser tomorrow," I admit.
Carly's eyes widen. "Wyatt Callahan? At a social event? Holy Christmas miracle, Batman."
"Don't make a big deal about it."
"Honey, this is the biggest deal in Hope Peak since the mayor's wife ran off with the mailman. That man hasn't shown his face at a community event in years."
The weight of that settles over me. If he's breaking his pattern for me, it means something. Something big and scary and wonderful.
As I lock up the clinic later, snow continues to fall, coating the world in pristine white. Christmas is five days away, and for the first time since arriving in Hope Peak, I feel like I might actually be home for the holidays.
With someone who makes my heart race and my knees weak and who builds beautiful windows so I can watch the sunset while I work.
Tomorrow night can't come fast enough.