Chapter 24 Twenty-Three #2
It didn’t matter what my heart was yelling at me—that maybe he was worth trying, that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t who I thought him to be at all.
He was chaos, but maybe my structure needed the chaos?
Maybe his chaos needed my structure? With him, I had done things that I hadn’t thought about in a long time.
A game of pool, late nights watching a show, singing along with Shania Twain during the long road trips, heading to a bar to celebrate wins, and opening up about a hard part of my life that I’d rather forget.
But I did all those things because he was becoming a friend.
And I couldn’t—wouldn’t—ruin that.
Hear him out.
“Alright, Stet,” Wyatt said, his voice husky and deep. “My turn to dance with Miss Quinn. Can you take Poppy back to her mom?” He leaned over, handing Stetson his cousin.
Stetson rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. But you can’t fall in love with her.”
Wyatt and I furrowed our brows and looked at Stetson at the same time.
“Excuse me?” Wyatt asked.
“Uncle Rhett fell in love with Aunt Kyla. I like Miss Quinn. Don’t. Fall. In. Love.” Stetson glared at his uncle and then turned to walk back into the crowd.
“Well, that was terrifying.” I looked at my friend.
“Apparently, Stetson is into older women.” Wyatt reached out, his palms up. “Dance with me?” he asked, the smile steady on his lips.
Line dancing ended and was replaced by a slow and smooth country song.
I knew the deep voice that drew the couples together, and I couldn’t help but reach out and take Wyatt’s hand.
He pulled me close, his scent enveloping me.
There was a hint of hay to his scent, and I knew it had attached to him since he began working in the stables.
It worked for him. No heavy cologne like I had smelled before, no Axe body spray to cover up anything he may not want there.
It was just him. Just Wyatt. Hay and strawberries… and the sunset.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and let my body lie flush against his, and he gently began to sway us.
“Have I told you that you look breathtaking tonight?” he said softly into my ear.
“I believe you used the term gorgeous, but yes, you have. Think of another pick-up line.” I arched my back to look up at him. His eyes were hooded as he was studying me, sending my stomach into flips already.
Flips I promptly ignored because we were just friends.
I’ve ignored them before…I can ignore them again.
“That wasn’t a pickup line, simply stating a fact.”
“Well.” I swallowed. “Thank you. You don’t look half bad yourself.”
“It’s the hat, isn’t it?” He grinned. “Cash wouldn’t let me wear my ball cap.”
“Good. I would have protested and burned the ball cap if you had worn it. Even Stetson is wearing a cowboy hat. You had to match them,” I joked, happy that the serious tone that was there less than five seconds ago had already seemed to lift.
“You wouldn’t burn my hat.”
“Oh, yes, I would.”
“I’d make you buy me a new one.”
“A new cowboy hat, you mean.”
He raised a single eyebrow, his smile spreading from ear to ear.
I cleared my throat. “You do look handsome tonight, Wyatt.”
“Thank you,” he said softly, his hands sliding from the small of my back up my spine.
He stopped swaying.
I stopped swaying.
His eyes darted as he looked at me, his lips parting slightly, his breath becoming uneven.
My breath became just as uneven, just as ragged as I inhaled sharply, filling my lungs with the courage to…stop.
“I…” I stumbled. “I need you to stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” he asked, his voice just as unsteady as mine.
“Like you want to kiss me.”
We’ve had this conversation before. I knew we had. And by the low grin on his face, he remembered it too.
“I’ve already told you I do. You know you’re the only one I want to kiss.”
I slid my hands down to his chest, feeling the way his lean muscles sculpted even under his layers of clothing, and I shivered. If I gave in to this right now and let him kiss me—I could feel him. I could take him in and relish in the idea that he wanted me…
But that would risk…
Him.
I pushed myself away and, for the millionth time, swallowed the pit that was settled in my throat.
“Wyatt…I…” I met his gaze. “We’re friends. I…”
“Quinn,” he sighed. “Please, just hear me out.”
Hear him out.
I turned, my feet moving on their own volition as I barreled my way through the crowd, the song we had been dancing to ending suddenly.
Were we really dancing for that long? Did our silly banter about his hat choice and staring at each other really last more than three minutes? If so…why did it feel like seconds?
“Quinn, wait,” Wyatt called after me, his footsteps not far from mine. Soon, he was in front of me, stopping dead in his tracks, forcing me to do the same. “Don’t—”
“I can’t hear you out,” I said suddenly.
Wyatt froze, his arms drooping to his sides.
“Wyatt.” I took a single step towards him.
“I don’t think you know how much you mean to me.
You’ve become so much more than a friend.
You’re…” I fought for the words, coming up short when the only one hit my mind.
What did Abi call it? “A safe space for me. Someone I can trust, and seriously, I never thought I’d say that about you.
I love having you around. I love talking with you and watching our show, and eating random foods.
I love everything about you—but as my closest friend. ”
Wyatt rubbed his lips together. “Friends?”
I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek. “I can’t let anything screw it up. Please…” I whispered, begging him. “We can’t screw this up.”
His gaze never once left mine. We were quiet for a moment, longer than the song we had just danced to, it seemed, but finally Wyatt took the steps that lay between us. He leaned in, kissed my cheek, and whispered.
“We won’t screw anything up. I promise. Friends.”
Then he walked past me, leaving me staring into the open field as the sun set slowly over Hartwell Hills.