19. Lark #2
Penny moved around me, placing three forks next to the plates already on the table. “Just us?” I asked her, curious where Michael, Kevin, and Joey had run off to.
“Dad gave them money and told them to get lost.”
My eyes flew to Wyatt’s when I saw him frown. “It wasn’t exactly like that.”
I stifled a little smile and helped Penny finish putting down plates and silverware on the small farmhouse table.
During dinner, Penny drew most of the attention, sharing little snippets of our adventures over the past several days.
I knew she missed her dad when he had to work long hours or travel back to St. Fowler, and even though he’d already heard of our dip in Wabash Lake and of Joey trying to convince me he could do a backflip off the rocks, Wyatt listened to her every word.
Thankfully, I had challenged Joey and Michael to a race to the shore, and Joey had been easily distracted from going through with the backflip.
“Thank you for that.” Wyatt sighed as he no doubt thought about Joey’s reckless nature. “He’s going to get himself killed, one random injury at a time.”
“For an athlete, he is surprisingly clumsy.” My affection for the three boys had grown in the past weeks. They were good kids. I couldn’t help but wonder how life might change for them if they continued to have successful football careers—or didn’t.
Joey’s confidence was unwavering, Kevin seemed determined to make professional football his life path by sheer will, and Michael always talked about life after football as if he had a feeling pro ball wasn’t in the cards for him.
I crossed my legs, and my knee brushed against Wyatt’s thigh. As I adjusted, his warm hand landed on my knee and gave it a quick squeeze. His eyes were still tuned to Penny, deep into another story, and before I could discreetly put my hand on top of his, it was gone.
My body hummed with how close Wyatt was, but always just a millimeter too far away. My fingertips itched to rake through his hair. We’d agreed to keep our growing attraction between us, but in the intimate space of his home, it was becoming nearly impossible.
After salad and pasta alfredo and garlic bread, I stood to help clear the table. Penny raced down the hallway, prompting me to speak up. “Nice try, Pen! We all help out.”
She popped back around the corner and into the kitchen with a smile. “Sorry. I forgot.”
I wrinkled my nose at her and pulled her into a one-armed hug. “You’re the best. You know that, right?”
Penny beamed up at me. “Yeah.”
I glanced at Wyatt, who stood still, holding two plates, staring at us. The tight line of his lips had a rock settling into my stomach.
Shit.
Hours and hours spent with Penny had made me really comfortable around her, and while she was a good kid, she was seven and needed help with manners and remembering to pitch in. I offered him a small smile, hoping I hadn’t overstepped.
Wyatt turned and started rinsing the dishes.
Double shit.
“Is that good? Can I go play?” Penny innocently looked for me to answer.
I smoothed her hair and looked at the expanse of Wyatt’s back. “Um, that’s up to your dad, kiddo.”
“It’s fine.” Wyatt didn’t look up from the sink, where he was now stacking the dirty dishes into the dishwasher.
“Come on, Lark. Let’s play.” Hoping to smooth things over, I stepped toward him and placed my hand at his back.
His head turned toward me, and when the corner of his mouth lifted to a grin, my insides went liquid. “Go have fun. I’ll be done with this in no time.”
Penny showed me a game on her iPad, something about fashion design for cats. When she got bored with that, we sat on the floor in front of the coffee table in the living room and colored.
Wyatt walked in with a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder, looking devastatingly at ease and altogether handsome. I swallowed hard and tried to quell the entirely too-domestic thoughts that raced through my mind.
I didn’t need to think about how easy it felt with Wyatt and Penny. How natural.
“Daddy, can we watch a movie?” Penny continued to draw what I assumed was Aunt Tootie’s house, complete with a chicken coop and a little chicken tombstone next to it.
“It’s late, Pickle.” Wyatt dried his hands on the towel, and I tracked the movements of the veins that ran down his forearms and across the backs of his hands.
God, I wanted those hands on me again.
“But it’s the summer !” Wyatt’s shoulders slumped, and I knew she had him worn down with simple seven-year-old logic.
I shrugged but continued looking down at my own coloring. “I could stay for a little bit.”
When I chanced a look up, Wyatt had turned up his grin and aimed it right at me. My stomach whooshed, and I had to busy myself with organizing the crayons to hide the blush I could feel creeping onto my cheeks.
Penny had chosen a family-friendly movie about a football team who faced tragedy but made an epic comeback with a dog as their wide receiver. Throughout the movie, Wyatt grumbled and commented more than once on the lack of accuracy with the plays, uniforms, and coaches.
One time he even asserted, “That’s not at all how that works,” and finally Penny rolled her eyes and said plainly, “We know, Dad.” She gestured at the television. “He’s a dog .”
I couldn’t hold in my laughter.
Penny sat between us, and I focused on the ridiculous plotline and not on the way Wyatt’s muscular arm stretched across the back of the couch. Absently, his fingers found the base of my neck and drew little circles, teasing the baby hairs there and sending chills racing down my back.
When I glanced over at him, his eyes were tuned to the movie, but the barely there flick of the corner of his mouth made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.
The sun set, and Penny’s eyelids got heavier and heavier. She fought sleep, but before she could see the final touchdown scene, she was lightly snoring against Wyatt’s chest.
A knot formed in my throat at the sight of them. She was peaceful and safe, snuggled up against her dad’s chest, and he appeared the most relaxed I’d ever seen him.
He looked over at me and whispered, “I’m going to put her down.”
I nodded, not wanting to wake her up. As he stood, I also stretched my legs and glanced toward the front door.
“Don’t go.” His low, rough tone rooted me to the spot. Happy little sparks danced through my stomach.
I turned to the kitchen and kept myself busy by emptying the now-clean dishes from the dishwasher. I could feel Wyatt’s energy before he stepped into the kitchen, and my nerves jumped.
“She asleep?”
“Out cold.” He took one step in my direction. Then two.
I smiled as I turned to face him. “I’m not going to lie, that movie was...”
“Oh, it was goddamned awful.” He took another step toward me in the dimly lit kitchen.
Together we laughed quietly. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. His biceps flexed, and I looked away, suddenly nervous to be alone with him. I turned back to the dishes, but his hand on my arm stopped me. “Hey, leave that. I’ll get it later. Come here.”
I turned to face him, wrapped in his arms. The smell of his skin was clean and masculine. Our closeness had my heart thrumming and my mind racing to dirty, delicious places.
“You look gorgeous. I couldn’t stop touching you.” His wide palms ran up my sides, settling around my rib cage.
“I noticed. It felt good.”
His hand found my face, and his thumb brushed across my cheeks. “ You feel good.”
My heart raced. Any alone time with Wyatt had been scarce, and a deep, achy need was taking over.
I wanted to lean into him, press my chest to his, and let him kiss me. I’d been thinking about his mouth on mine for the last forty minutes of that god-awful movie. Every stolen touch had amped up my neediness, and I was desperate for him. He leaned in, closing the inches between us.
“I’ve been thinking about you.” Wyatt’s nose stroked down the side of mine, and I sucked in a sharp breath as tingles buzzed down my back. “I think about you too much.”
“You do?” My limbs were heavy. My body was tuned into him and molding to his thighs as he held me.
“I can’t even tell you some of the things I want to do to you.”
Wyatt’s words were hard and laced with indecency. I desperately wanted to know, to hear what he wanted to do with me.
“You can show me.” I was breathless. At the edge.
“Hey, Coach, we—oh shit!” The screen door banged as it closed, and Kevin’s shocked face turned red as I pulled out of Wyatt’s arms and immediately started fussing with the dishes.
“Hey, hi.” Wyatt tried to recover, but it was painfully obvious we’d just been caught in a very risqué embrace.
Behind Kevin, Michael tried to look away, while Joey had a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Lark and I, um... Lark was...”
“I was just leaving!” Unable to look anyone in the eyes, I wove around a dumbstruck Wyatt and three grinning college kids.
I’d been seconds away from climbing Wyatt like a tree and had been caught. Despite Wyatt calling to me, I raced outside and up the stairs to my apartment.
So much for keeping things between us.