Chapter 17 #2
I relax, realizing they weren't referring to our secret relationship.
But I keep steel in my voice. "I know exactly what he's done.
But it's my decision. My agency. You don't like it?
You should have thought about it before you made Christmas into a fight club.
And if you don't like my decisions, you're welcome to walk. "
Jericho's eyes narrow. "You think you're untouchable because you built this place? Don't forget the basics. If you lose your credibility, we all lose opportunities. If you drag his mess in here, you're gambling with more than just your name."
Colt interjects, his voice dark. "Let's not pretend Wyatt won't self-destruct again. That's what he does, Willow. He burns everything down around him. He won't think twice about including you in the flames."
I exhale through my nose, steadying myself. "You don't need to like my decision. You just need to respect it."
Tension swirls around us, crackling like a live wire. No one speaks.
Jericho's jaw clenches.
Colt's fists curl against his thighs.
Finally, Jericho exhales sharply. "Fine. Do what you want, Willow." He rises.
Colt follows, scowling. "Don't say we didn't warn you. When he crashes, don't expect us to stand by quietly."
"Noted," I say coolly.
As they push back from the desk, the door swings open. Like clockwork, fate twists the knife.
Wyatt steps in.
His dark gaze sweeps the room, locking on me instantly. Heat coils low in my stomach at the sheer weight of his stare. He doesn't glance away when addressing Jericho and Colt. "Gentlemen."
Jericho's lip curls. "Houston."
Colt folds his arms, his voice dripping with hostility. "Didn't realize you were already making yourself comfortable."
"Didn't realize you still had anything to say that mattered," Wyatt replies smoothly, his voice calm but razor-sharp.
I step in quickly. "Don't."
The tension between the three of them sits on the edge of exploding.
No one moves. The testosterone saturates the air as thick as smog.
Jericho shifts, his eyes never leaving Wyatt's. "Just remember, Houston. Some of us earned our place here without needing second chances."
Wyatt's smirk sharpens, dark and unapologetic. "And yet here I am, still standing."
"Enough!" My voice cuts through like a whip. "All of you, except Wyatt, out!"
Jericho and Colt finally move, both shooting Wyatt one last glare before brushing past him.
As they exit, Wyatt doesn't move an inch. "Always a pleasure," he drawls, voice laced with venom.
The door slams, distilling their tension and creating a new one.
And the tension between us is even thicker. Too many minutes pass of Wyatt dragging his gaze over my body.
"You enjoy poking bears, don't you?" I say dryly.
Wyatt shrugs. "Just making conversation."
I sigh internally.
I'm cursed. Every time I think I'm prepared to face him, he chips away at my defenses, utilizing that Wyatt Houston charm, and catching me off guard again.
His gaze slides over me again, like a slow caress, lingering on every curve.
It's like nothing's changed, and my body still belongs to him.
It doesn't, I tell myself.
"You're staring," I force out, trying to steady my breath.
"Hard not to," he replies in a rich and dangerous drawl.
"Don't start," I warn.
He steps closer. "It's been years, Willow. You expect me not to notice every damn inch of you?"
My heart trips. I take a step backward, but I keep my chin high. "We're here for business."
He murmurs, "Business. Right. But don't pretend there's nothing left between us."
I clear my throat and gesture toward the chairs. "Two sponsor meetings today. Sit."
He stretches his long legs as he takes a seat, looking entirely too comfortable. He could own the place, and it's something I used to love about him.
Today, it really irritates me.
His gaze drops to my crossed legs, his stare practically scorching my skin. My breath catches and my pulse shoots higher.
My body suddenly remembers every wicked thing he's done to it. It betrays me the same way it used to when we were together.
"So let's talk business," he says, giving me a reprieve from memories I'd rather not dwell on.
I push a folder at him. "We're meeting with Roughneck Armorworks first. Tough Rider is after them."
"What's the chances of securing a platinum sponsorship?" Wyatt questions.
"Not sure. I'll feel them out to see what their budget is, but there's no guarantee they'll give us anything," I remind him.
He clenches his jaw.
The front door opens, and Brent Wallace, Roughneck Armorworks' VP of marketing, booms, "You in here, sugar?"
Wyatt's eyelids lower to slits. His jaw clenches and fists curl tight.
"Behave," I mutter, then rise. Brent's no different from most of the male contacts at the companies that offer sponsorships. But as long as I secure the deals for my riders, I suck it up.
I meet him at the door and offer a sweet-sounding, "Happy Holidays."
"You too, sweetheart." He pulls me into a hug.
Wyatt interjects in a cool voice, "Mr. Wallace. Nice to meet you."
Brent pulls back. "Call me Brent. And I have to say, we're impressed with your riding, Wyatt," Brent says, shaking Wyatt's hand.
"Thank you, sir," Wyatt replies.
"Please. Let's sit," I suggest, motioning toward my conference table.
We all take a seat.
Before I can speak, Brent says, "I don't have tons of time. The grandkids are coming over tonight. But I wanted to meet you in person, Wyatt. You've always had a strong track record."
Wyatt nods. "Appreciate that. I'm just focused on getting back to where I should've been all along."
Brent tosses me a glance I can't decipher, and I'm immediately on guard. He looks at Wyatt and states, "The footage from your last two events speaks for itself. You're riding sharp. Confident. But you know why we're cautious."
"Because of my past," Wyatt answers directly, no hesitation. "I own it. And I won't pretend it didn't happen. But I'm not that man anymore. I'm here to ride and represent any sponsor that's willing to take a chance on me the way I'm taking a chance on myself."
I can't help the small flicker of pride that swells in my chest at how steady and earnest he sounds.
Brent replies, "That's good to hear. But you're a risk, Wyatt. Hopefully a calculated one if we decide to back you. This vest launch is a significant milestone for us. We've invested millions of dollars. We want a face that represents strength, safety, and stability."
Wyatt meets Brent's gaze head-on, declaring, "And that's what I'll give you. I'm not just here for a second shot. I'm here to build something lasting."
Brent nods slowly. "When's your next ride?"
Wyatt looks to me for help.
I clear my throat. "We're figuring the schedule out."
Brent raises his eyebrows.
"We should have it solidified in the next week," I add.
He nods and points at Wyatt. "If you handle the pressure and stay on track, we'll revisit this after your next competition." Brent extends his hand.
Wyatt shakes his hand. "Fair enough. I appreciate the consideration."
I interject, "Before you leave, I have one question."
"What's that, sugar?" he asks.
Wyatt shifts in his seat.
The hairs on my arms rise, but I don't look at him. I say to Brent, "You said you want the face for your vest. I assume you're looking to offer a rider a platinum sponsorship deal?"
Brent chuckles. "Always going in for the kill, aren't you, darlin'?"
I put on my sweetest smile, cooing. "Gotta do well for my riders."
Brent nods. "You guessed right, sugar."
I do a mental fist pump. I need a platinum sponsor for Wyatt as soon as possible. So I smile bigger. "Perfect. Then I'll put you at the top of the list."
He chuckles again and rises. "It was nice meeting you, Wyatt. Willow, tell Jacob and Ruby I said Happy Holidays."
"I will. Thank you for taking the time to meet with us," I reply.
He pulls me in for another hug, and when he releases me, we walk him to the door just as Tough Rider's director, Candace O'Hearne, parks her SUV.
She gets out, exchanges niceties with Brent, and within minutes, we're sitting across from her in my office.
She flips through Wyatt's portfolio as she speaks.
"Your stats are excellent. And I won't lie, the media loves a comeback."
Wyatt gives a small, easy smile. "That's because everyone loves a good story. I intend to give them one."
She adds, "We've been following you closely."
She doesn't have to come out and say that they know about his recent troubles.
"Wyatt's had a few hiccups," I admit.
She nods. "Yes. We're interested, but we're cautious. Our bull rope launch is a high-visibility campaign. Image matters."
Wyatt states, "I understand. I've made mistakes, but my focus now is entirely on my riding and proving to sponsors like Tough Rider that I'm worth the investment."
I lean in slightly. "He'll deliver exciting rides and a professional media presence at every event going forward. The sponsors who get in early on Wyatt's rebuild are going to reap the rewards."
Candace smiles thoughtfully. "You make a strong case, Willow. And, Wyatt, you're saying all the right things. Corporate's intrigued. But they want to see you under more pressure. When's your next ride?"
"We're solidifying the schedule this week," I quickly inform her.
She studies Wyatt.
He blurts out, "I'll make sure you don't regret me."
Candace closes the folder. "Fair enough. We're watching. After your next ride, let's have another meeting."
She rises, shakes our hands, and leaves.
Wyatt groans. "This is going to be harder than I expected, isn't it?"
"You're a bigger risk than they let on."
He sighs and steps in front of the window, crossing his arms.
I keep to myself that he's a risk that might cost me everything.