10. Wyatt
CHAPTER 10
Wyatt
SHOULDA BEEN A COWBOY
Sally is talking to Beck when I walk back into the barn, deck of cards in hand. The cardboard edges of the box bite into my palm as I tighten my grip.
Yes, Sally connecting with other guys was part of the plan.
Yes, it was a plan I agreed to.
No, I was not prepared for the white-hot jealousy that streaks through me when I see her smile up at him like he hung the goddamn moon.
Enough of the pretending. Enough already of the hiding. Get her out of here and tell her how you feel.
“Y’all wanna play or what?” I toss the deck onto the table.
Duke pulls back, hooking a thumb in the direction of the parking lot. “What bit you in the ass out there?”
“The cold.” And the fact that this stupid plan is actually working. “I’m about to turn into a pumpkin, so let’s get the game moving.”
“All right, Cinderella,” Sawyer replies, mouth twitching.
Sally and I meet eyes. That’s what I called her on our first kinda-sorta fake date the other night at The Rattler.
Determined not to read too much into that, I take my seat and open the box. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Beck pulling out Sally’s chair.
“Aw, thank you, Beck.” She’s still wearing that gorgeous, lit-up smile as she sits.
I can’t help but notice how calm she seems around him now. Like the nervousness she had at The Rattler is melting away.
That’s a good thing.
I tell myself that Sally feeling confident is a really good thing.
Why, then, does it feel so fucking awful to watch her right now?
Why do I reach for the leg of Sally’s chair and yank her toward me like a possessive caveman, making her yelp? It’s not like me to care. Scratch that—I do care. It’s just not like me to show it. It’s especially not like me to be so publicly possessive.
But as far as my brothers and Sally are concerned, this is all fake, so I’m safe.
Only I don’t feel very safe at all when I pat my lap and say to Sally, “Your seat is here.”
Duke lets out a bark of laughter that he tries to pass off as a cough. I cut him a warning glance before turning back to Sally.
Her long, dark eyelashes flutter. “Really?”
“You wanna learn how to play, don’t you? You and I will play the first hand together. Cards’ll be easier to see if you’re on my lap. Plus, it’ll be more fun this way.”
Sally bites her lip. I’m gripped by the fierce, almost-frightening urge to grab her and put her on my lap myself. Let Beck know she’s mine. For tonight at least.
He’s gotta let me have a win. Just one. That’s all I ask.
But then Sally shocks the shit out of me and does what I told her for once. She rises out of her chair, and her eyes glimmer as she saunters the two steps it takes to get to me. Then she puts a hand on my shoulder and settles her weight on my lap before turning to the side and swinging her legs over my thighs, flashing a whole lot of smooth, soft skin in the process as the slit in her dress practically rides up to her belly button.
Fuck.
Me.
For life.
The scent of her flowery body lotion—I figured out it’s jasmine—fills my head. My entire being leaps at her nearness. At the flirty, playful way she snakes her arm around my shoulders and shimmies her ass, giving me the friction I desperately want but absolutely don’t need right now.
But her eyes, her smile, her general naughtiness, are the real turn-on.
She puts her other hand on my chest and asks breathlessly, “This better?”
“Much.” The word comes out as a grunt.
Sally runs the tip of her tongue along her top teeth. “You gonna show me the ropes, cowboy?”
Can’t. Stop. Staring.
At her mouth mostly.
Does she feel the buzzy, tight energy between us too? Or am I losing my mind?
The only thing keeping our faces more than an inch apart is the brim of my hat. I think about taking it off. I don’t, thanks to the few remaining shreds of self-control and dignity I have left.
“What kinda ropes we talking about, Sunshine?”
“Toby Keith did say something about roping and riding going together.” She’s fighting laughter, and I fucking love it.
I wanna kiss you so bad it hurts.
“Interesting,” I say.
“Y’all need a minute, or should I, uh, deal?” Sawyer asks.
The hand Sally’s got on my chest moves to my nape. I bite down on my cheek when she starts to toy with my hair. Goose bumps break out along my arms and legs at the tender, easy way she touches me, drawing her fingertips gently across my scalp.
“Yes.” Apparently, I only speak in one-worded sentences now.
I opened the floodgates, didn’t I, by holding Sally’s hand back in the truck? I showed her how simple flirting could be, and she took that idea and ran with it.
Who knew she was a natural? She’s clearly not overthinking this. Instead, she’s…present. Carefree even. The idea makes my chest soar.
I can feel Beck’s eyes on Sally and me as my brother deals the cards.
Because I’m an asshole—why not stir the pot?—I curl my hand around her hip and use it to shift her a little bit more toward the table, her back to my front. Her hand falls from my nape, but this way, I’m able to rest my chin on her shoulder and murmur sweet nothings in hear ear about gambling like a degenerate.
“Okay, so those are the communal cards, and we can all use them.” She motions to the five cards that Sawyer dealt face down on the table.
“Exactly.”
“And these”—she takes the pair of cards out of my hand—“are just for us, and we use the communal cards to make the best combination.”
“Right. We’re looking for patterns—numbers, suits. Pairs of things, three of a kind. Flushes are what you really want because?—”
“Flushes are five cards of the same suit, right?”
Sawyer’s lips twitch. “Something tells me we’re gonna have another card shark on our hands.”
“We playin’ with real money?” Beck asks. “Or is this just a practice round? ”
Sally turns her head to look at me.
“Your call, Sally.”
Her gaze flicks to my mouth. “I’m feeling lucky. Let’s play for money.”
“She’s living dangerously tonight,” Duke says with a smile.
Reaching down to give my thigh a squeeze, Sally replies to Duke, “Your brother is rubbing off on me.”
I slip my hand inside my pocket. My fingertips meet with Sally’s upper thigh through the fabric of my trousers, and without me having to say a word, she lifts her ass a little so I can dig out my money clip. I use my other hand—the one I still have on her hip—to guide her back onto my lap when I’m done. She leans forward, setting her elbows on the table as she considers our hand, pressing her ass into my lap, just how I like it.
I bite back a growl. I’m so turned on by this woman—so fucking attracted to her—that I literally have to count cards in an effort not to get a hard-on, even though you can only count cards when you’re playing blackjack. Whatever. Focusing on the cards is the distraction I need right now.
I’m just stunned by the lack of awkwardness between us. This kind of silent communication—how our bodies automatically work in tandem, how good hers feels pressed against mine—is so hot that I must black out for a full beat. Next thing I know, the table is going through a round of raises and calls.
Sally leans back so I can see our cards after the flop, or the revealing of the first three communal cards. She turns her head, her nose nearly brushing mine as she holds her hand over her mouth and whispers conspiratorially, “So we have a two pair, right?”
“Right,” I murmur, mentally begging my dick to behave as a wash of heat moves through me at the hint of cinnamon on her breath. I know—I know —her mouth would taste so, so sweet.
She’d taste sweet everywhere.
“What’s our move? You think we play it safe or go for the glory and raise it big in case we get a queen of hearts?”
Of course she’s a fast learner. And of course she ain’t afraid to risk it all.
I dig my fingers into her hip. “You’re good at this.”
“I had a great teacher.”
“That so?”
“Earth to Team PDA,” Duke says. “Y’all gonna bet or what?”
Sally wags her brows. “I say we go for it.”
“I say I like that plan.”
“Sorry if I lose all your money.” Sally sits up and pushes more chips into the pot.
I resist the urge to hold her down while I pump my hips upward. I got some ideas on how you can work off that debt .
We get a three of spades. Shit card. I can tell by the way Sally falls back against me that she’s about to give us away. Nudging the brim of my hat back with my knuckle, I lean in. Stop just short of skimming my lips over the bare skin of Sally’s neck, right where it slopes into her shoulder.
“You don’t play the cards,” I murmur. “You play the table.”
I watch her roll her lips between her teeth before she runs her tongue along the fullness of her bottom lip. I realize it’s her tell. She’s thinking.
And then she twists her torso so that she’s sitting up a little, our eyes meeting. She lazily reaches up and thumbs the side of my mouth, like she’s wiping something away.
My blood surges.
She smiles. Turns her attention back to the table just long enough to throw another bill into the pot before turning back to me. “Raise. ”
Lord a bove , she’s playing the fucking table, flirting with me to distract everyone from how terrible our hand is.
She’s biting her lip, raking her eyes over my face. “I really do like the new hat, Wy.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Beck throw his cards onto the table. “Fold.”
“Thank you kindly, Sal,” I say. “You know I bought it just for you.”
“That so?” She bats her eyelashes. “You do know how to make a girl feel special.”
Sawyer exchanges a glance with Duke. “This is a bluff, right? Surely, they’re bluffing.”
“I don’t know what they’re doing, but I don’t got jack.” Duke puts down his cards and runs a hand over his face.
“That’s a shame,” Sally says, her eyes still on my face. “We’re gonna make out like bandits, aren’t we, Wy?”
“Fifty whole dollars, Sal.” At least, I think that is what’s in the pot right now. I lost count somewhere around the time Sally sat in my lap.
She’s relaxed. Playful. Like she ain’t got a care in the world other than getting her money and getting home with her man.
What I’d give for that bluff to be real.
It could be.
While the flirting isn’t real, my heart still swells at how well Sally and I play together. We make a damn fine team. Yeah, this is just a game. A stupid, meaningless game that I know I’m reading way too much into. But I can only imagine the things Sally and I could do if we banded together like this all the time.
Mom would have loved to see that.
The thought hits me out of nowhere. I know with bone-deep certainty that it’d have thrilled Mom to no end to see Sally and me do everything together. I’d be so good to Sally. She’d be good to me .
Only we’re not good for each other. And that math, it don’t compute. The kind of life I’m dreaming of isn’t the life Sally wants.
Then again, I haven’t asked her point-blank what exactly she does want. I’ve just assumed, like everyone else, that she wants to be a world-class veterinary surgeon.
But I’m starting to wonder, is that Sally’s dream or her daddy’s? Because she’s expressed some angst about going back to New York. Is it my place though to dig into that angst? Would it be a selfish move on my part to explore it with her?
I’m not gonna be the one who holds her back. Keeps her from doing great things.
With a grunt, Beck pushes back from the table. “That’s all I got in me, I think.”
I watch him meet eyes with Sally. The certainty that he wants her to follow him sits like a two-ton weight in my gut.
The possibility that she’ll actually do it makes me feel ill. I have to let Sally go with him—I know I do. I just?—
I can’t let her go.
I literally can’t take my hands off of her.
This sudden burst of possessiveness is a big fucking step. Hell, it’s a leap. The only reason I’m with Sally right now is because I promised to help her get into Beck’s bed. I know that. All the flirting, the touching, the dressing up—we did it in the hopes of getting to this exact moment.
The moment he shows his hand. It’s just a look. But it’s a look I know well. He wants the same thing she does, and now the ball is in her court.
Sally starts to rise. “Hey, Beck, I’ll?—”
“Where do you think you’re going, Sunshine?” I clamp my hands around her hips and yank her back into my lap. “You’ve just started a winning streak. Bad idea to walk away from the table now.”
Her face flushing, Sally pulls her brows together, confusion written all over her expression as she turns to me. What are you doing?
She doesn’t say the words out loud. She doesn’t need to.
And for a million different reasons, I don’t need to voice my reply. I’m being a jealous asshole. I’m sorry. I can’t help it.
Am I actually sorry, though, when Beck walks away?
Sally stays put in my lap, and my hands dig into the delicious curve of her hips.
The image slams into me like a freight train—Sally’s on my lap, facing away from me, like she is now. We’re still sitting. Only she’s naked, and she’s playing with her tits as I guide her body up and down, up and down, her pussy’s grip on me unbearably hot and tight as she rides my dick in a reverse cowgirl position.
The image is so vivid that I can see the way the muscles in her back bunch and release with every curl of her hips. Her hair is long and loose over her shoulders. Her tits bounce in her hands as she moves. I reach around and stroke her clit with my thumb, a slow, steady rhythm that has her gasping for air, her pussy tightening around me to an almost-painful degree.
“I should probably follow him though, don’t you think? I feel like I’m missing an opportunity?—”
“No.” I say the word with so much force that it surprises us both. My mask has slipped yet again without me even knowing it. Good thing the barn is emptying out.
The confusion on Sally’s face deepens. “Wyatt, he’s about to leave.”
I’m hit by an acute need for nicotine. Or sex with Sally.
Christ, I don’t know what I need. All I know is, this girl ain’t going anywhere with another man right now.
“Wyatt,” she says, “are you okay?”
My thoughts whirl— tell her he’ll come back, say she’s just upping the stakes, ask her to marry you —but I can’t make myself say the words .
Thank God my brothers are busy wondering what crawled up Beck’s ass and died, so they don’t witness my silent meltdown.
See? This is what happens when I let my guard down.
“Are you okay?” Sally’s face is close to mine. Too close.
Not nearly close enough. I swear this girl is gonna kill me.
Pretending to not want her for another minute is gonna fucking kill me.
“Fine.” Firming my grip on her hips, I slide her onto the seat of Beck’s empty chair. “Go.”
“Wyatt—”
“I’m sorry.” I’m shaking as I shove up to standing and hook a finger into the knot of my tie, giving it a vicious tug. I can’t breathe. “I’m—I know I’m being weird. I just—I can’t. I can’t, Sal. I’m sorry.”
Then I turn and stalk out of the barn like it’s on fire.
I’m on fire, and I’m so damn tempted to let the flames take over.
To let them take me out.