Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Wyatt
I’ve successfully avoided every person who’s ever lived or worked on this ranch for an entire morning.
I left the house before sunrise, and I think I’ve checked and re-checked every fence post on this side of the north pasture twice.
I know I can’t avoid everyone forever, but after last night, I’m sure as hell going to try.
“Found you. You big idiot.”
I sigh heavily. Sounds like forever ends now. Kassie’s hoarse voice cuts through the quiet like nails on a chalkboard.
“Not in the mood, Kass,” I shoot back without looking up.
“Well, you’re outta luck, little brother, because I’m in the mood to start calling you out.”
I turn slowly, rolling my eyes, and I’m met with an unimpressed-looking Kassie. She’s wearing oversized sunglasses and clutching a travel mug of coffee that’s evidently the only thing holding her together right now.
“Shouldn’t you still be in bed? Or at least in a dark room?” I mutter, returning to the saddle I’m oiling.
“I would be, if my brother hadn’t turned The Rusty Nail into a crime scene last night.” She leans against the stall door, wincing as the movement clearly hurts her head. “What the hell was that, Wyatt? You embarrassed that poor girl. You dragged her out of that bar like a stray dog.”
I wince internally at her comparison. “The guy was being disrespectful, Kass. I handled it. I would have done that for anyone.”
There’s only one person I’d ever do that for, and I’d do it ten times over if I had to.
“By breaking a man’s face?” She pulls her sunglasses down her nose, revealing her bloodshot eyes.
“Honestly, after that performance, I half expected you to be doing the walk of shame out of that girl’s room this morning.
I was prepared to find your boots in the hallway.
But I’ve just seen her in the kitchen, and she looks like she wants to spit in your coffee. ”
The image of Emily sitting in the house, hurt and angry, makes my stomach turn violently. “Drop it, Kassie. I’m not talking about this with you.”
“The hell you aren’t! You can’t have it both ways, Wyatt. You can’t act like some jealous husband the minute another man looks her way, and the next minute pretend she doesn’t exist. It’s cruel. To her and to yourself.”
“I’m just looking out for her like Dad promised Andrew.”
“Oh, shut up!” Kassie snaps, the volume making her flinch.
She lowers her voice to a hiss. “This isn’t about Dad or Andrew.
This is about you being terrified because you’re finally feeling something that isn’t grief.
You’re a coward, Wyatt Miller. You’d rather hide in this stable and pretend you’re still a married man than admit that Emily Callahan is the best thing to happen to this ranch in four years.
Everybody’s sick of tiptoeing around you, Wyatt! ”
I stand, the stool scraping loudly against the concrete. I’m a head taller than her, and the air between us is vibrating. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then talk to her!” Kassie gestures toward the house. “Because right now, she thinks she’s a burden. She thinks you hate her for being here. Is that what you want?”
“Get out of here, Kassie,” I say with a lethal edge. “Go sleep it off.”
She stares at me for a long moment, her face riddled with disappointment. She slides her sunglasses back up, masking her eyes again.
“Fine. Keep your head in your ass, Wyatt. But don’t be surprised when she leaves, and you’re still living in the fucking dark.”
She turns and stalks out, the heavy door slamming behind her. The sound echoes through the rafters, leaving me alone with the smell of leather and the crushing weight of an apology I don’t know how to give.
I drop to the stool, the wooden legs scraping against the concrete once more, and let my head fall into my hands. I let out a ragged breath that feels like it’s being torn from my lungs.
I know I fucked up.
I humiliated her in front of the whole town. Dragged her out of there like she belonged to me and didn’t have a say in her own life. Now she thinks I hate her. Which is the furthest thing from the truth. I like her. I dangerously like her.
I fucking hate that Kassie’s right, but I have to fix this.
* * *
I open the side door to the kitchen, where I’m greeted by the smell of fresh brew and my father stirring creamer into his mug.
“Thought you were taking Maverick out?”
“Yeah, I—uh—I had something I needed to do first,” I respond sheepishly.
I’m not in the mood to get into it with my dad. He’s got a way of seeing through me that’s even worse than Kassie’s blunt force.
“Have you…have you seen Emily?” I ask tentatively.
“Yeah, she was in the dining room last I saw, drowning in blueprints. That girl is on a mission. I keep telling her to take her time on that bridge project, it’s not going anywhere, but she’s got a fire under her today.”
I nod and step toward the archway. I can feel my dad’s brow furrowing at my back as I leave, but I keep moving. Pushing open the door to the dining room, I stop.
Emily is hunched over the large oak table, which is now completely buried under a sea of blueprints, architectural rulers, and a laptop.
A yellow pencil is tucked carefully behind her ear, and a pair of clear-framed reading glasses sits on the bridge of her nose.
I’ve never seen her wear those before. They make her look clever and—God help me—incredibly damn cute.
I know she notices me, but doesn’t stop. She peers up over the rims of the glasses and gives me a side-eye that could melt steel. She goes right back to tapping numbers into a calculator.
Message received. She hates me. My heart sinks to my boots.
As I step over the threshold, the temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. I stand at the edge of the rug, smelling of horse sweat and saddle oil. I feel entirely out of place in my own home.
“Did—uh—did Alex get his school project done?”
“Yep.” She pops the ‘p’ with finality.
“Did he put everything away?”
“Yep.”
The silence that follows is worse than the yelling in the parking lot last night. I shift my weight, my hat gripped in my hands like a shield.
“Are you going to give me more than one-word answers, Emily?”
“Nope.”
I drop my head and sigh heavily.
Time to grovel.
I let out a long, heavy breath and step closer. “Look. I know I’m the last person you want to talk to right now. And Kassie already gave me a piece of her mind, so you don’t have to.”
That finally gets her. She stops what she’s doing, takes off her glasses, and sets them on the table with a clack. She crosses her arms, and the motion unintentionally pushes up her rounded breasts in that tank top.
My brain short-circuits for a second before I quickly try to remember why I’m here. Jesus, does she know they do that?
I force my eyes back up to hers.
“Oh, so you’re only here because your sister told you to be? That’s comforting, Wyatt.”
“No,” I say quickly, taking another step. “I’m here because I was a dick last night. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you. I had no right to drag you out of there like…like I have some say in what you do.”
Like you belong to me is what I want to say.
“You’re right. You don’t. I’m trying to start over here, Wyatt. I’m trying to make friends, meet people, and maybe feel like a normal thirty-year-old woman for five minutes. And you made that impossible. I had it handled.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know where I stand with you,” she continues, her voice trembling a fraction. “One minute we’re in the garage, and things feel…friendly. And the next, you act like you can’t stand the sight of me, or worse, like you own me. It’s exhausting.”
The word friendly feels like a lie between us, but I let it slide. I can’t tell her the truth, that I act like I can’t stand her, because the alternative is so much more dangerous.
“I’m sorry, Emily. I really am. I just hope we can move past it.”
She pauses, chewing her lip. I can tell the emotional whiplash I’ve been giving her is taking its toll, and it kills me. I want to reach out, but I have a feeling I’ve already done enough for one weekend.
“I was—I was going to take Maverick out for a ride. If you feel like joining me?”
She ponders it for a heartbeat. I can see the internal struggle. The part of her that loves the ranch versus the part of her that’s still stinging from my right hook to that guy’s jaw. I almost stupidly, hopefully think she’s going to say yes.
“I have some stuff I need to finish. But thanks,” she says with a dismissive shrug, turning back to her calculator.
That hurts. More than I expected. But I deserve it. I nod, pull my hat back on, and walk out of the room, leaving her to her numbers and her walls.
I need to take a ride on Maverick to clear my head.