13. Wyatt
CHAPTER 13
Wyatt
YOU SHOULD PROBABLY LEAVE
Best friends and blow jobs do not go together.
But you wouldn’t know it from the very graphic, very vivid dreams I have of Sally on her knees, on all fours, or draped over my lap in the front seat of my truck, my dick in her mouth and my hand on the back of her head.
Just like in real life, in my dreams Sally is eager to please. She’s passionate. Vocal. Vulnerable. No wonder I came in my pants like an amateur last night. The girl is on fire.
In my dreams, she becomes more confident the longer we touch, just like she did when we actually kissed in my truck. By the time I dragged myself off of her, she was all in, kissing me back like the world was ending.
More than that, she clearly cared about what I liked and how I was feeling, and that’s what has me coming in my hand at six thirty in the morning on a Saturday as I relive a particularly explicit dream—the one where she comes from making me come.
The one where she shows up again and again, proving me wrong. People don’t always leave. They won’t always hurt you if you let them get close.
In fact, sometimes, they take real good care of you .
Did Sally take care of herself after I dropped her off at home last night? For some reason, I picture her using a vibrator. Something small and discreet, but also powerful.
She think of me while she used it?
Shoving the thought aside, I climb out of bed and turn on the shower. The house’s old pipes creak. It’ll be a couple minutes before the water warms up, but maybe that’s a good thing. I need to cool my jets, literally, or I’m gonna end up doing something stupid. Like have sex with my best friend under the guise of “teaching” her how to have a good time on a date.
She’s seemed to enjoy everything I’ve taught her so far. Still can’t help but cringe at how much of myself I bared to her last night. Not with my words necessarily, but with my body. I couldn’t hide my hunger.
Then again, I don’t think she wanted me to because she didn’t hide hers either.
And yet I still feel a sense of guilt that I didn’t bare even more. I kept telling her to be honest with me, all while I was holding back an atomic bomb of a confession.
If we take things any further, she’s gonna see the tattoo on my thigh—the one I got for her. And then what? I won’t have any choice but to tell her I lied by omission.
I step into the ice-cold stream of water. It hits my skin like a hundred tiny knives, but I force myself to stand there and hurt. Only what I deserve for not being totally honest with Sally.
I need to grow a pair and tell her how I feel.
I need to tell her last night was a mistake. I’m desperate not to lose her.
But, God, it was good. So good that I can’t stop thinking about it. Just like I can’t stop thinking about how she encouraged me to talk about Mom. No one’s really done that before. I think people are scared to bring up my parents, like they don’t want to make things awkward or whatever. It’s easier to just pretend like their passing didn’t happen.
Sally, though, is never one to take the easy route. And I appreciate that about her more than she’ll ever know.
Palming the tile wall, I lean into it and hang my head, letting the water course over my head and shoulders. It’s getting a little warmer. Still not comfortable.
I loved how soft and warm Sally felt in my arms. Her mouth was hot and tasted sweet. Makes me think of how hot and sweet she’d taste between her legs. Even through our clothes, I could feel the pulsing heat of her center. She wanted to have sex as much as I did.
Is telling her I want more than a hookup the right thing? Or would that just be messing with her head? I’d never forgive myself if I was the reason she didn’t go off and chase her dreams.
That’s assuming an awful lot though, isn’t it? That my confession might throw off someone as focused and ambitious and smart as Sally Powell?
Yeah, I’m gonna be a fucking mess when she leaves. But our separation might not affect her like that. It didn’t in the past. Can sex really change that much, that quickly?
I don’t know.
I do know I’m glad we didn’t go any further last night. Of course I wanted to fuck Sally. I wanted it so badly that my body still aches with the desire however many hours later. But it all happened so fast.
One minute, I was Sally’s fake date. I was asking her if she was okay with us holding hands.
The next, I was on top of her, capturing her moans in my mouth as I tried not to tear that fucking dress off of her.
My balls contract. I’m getting hard again. The water’s finally warm, but I turn the tap all the way to cold. The skin on my neck and shoulders goes numb.
Cash would kill me if Sally did something stupid on my account. John B would hate me forever. Patsy would never forgive me. By hooking up with Sally, I could very well tear our family apart.
It could also tear me apart. Bad things happen when I let people get close. Believing otherwise was just a dream—literally in my case. I have to protect myself.
Which means Sally and I have to stop. I have to tell her the sex we talked about last night absolutely cannot happen.
Sally wants to get laid, she’s gotta do it with someone else.
I’m fine with her being with someone else.
I am fucking fine with it .
I get out of the shower and throw on a pair of jeans, a shirt, and my work boots. Then I tie a blue bandana around my neck. As foreman, I technically have weekends off. But there’s always work to be done on a ranch, and I gotta do something to get my mind off Sally and the memory of those fucking thighs wrapped around my waist.
So soft. Soft and strong. Woman can ride a horse like nobody’s business. She’s at ease in the saddle, her body loose, her back straight.
Bet she’d ride me just as good.
Pushing my arms into my denim jacket, I pluck a hat off the stand by the door and shove it onto my head. It’s too early for a beer, right? It is cold outside. Nobody would judge me if I put whiskey in my coffee.
I open the door—no one locks up around here—and nearly have a heart attack when I see Sally standing on my front porch. She’s got two cardboard cups from the coffee shop downtown in her hands, and a big old smile on her face.
My stomach drops. But my heart, it swells, slowly unfurling like morning glory does when its flowers are touched by the sun.
“Hey.” My voice sounds like gravel.
Sally, though, just keeps smiling, unafraid of my growling. “Hey. I brought you some coffee because, well, that’s apparently my thing now, driving over to Lucky River Ranch at random times to bring you delicious, hot beverages. I promise I won’t ask for anything this time.”
She’s got purple thumbprints underneath her eyes, like she didn’t sleep much either. Her hair is pulled into a glossy knot on the top of her head. The strengthening sun catches on the stray strands framing her face and trailing down her neck, literally lighting her up.
Her lips still look a little swollen. My body leaps when I see a pink patch of skin on her throat. I did that. I marked her. She’s so damn pretty like this, disheveled and tired, no makeup, illuminated like an actual angel. I can’t find air to fill my lungs.
I am so fucking obsessed with you it’s not even funny .
“I’m real happy to see you, Sally.” I reach for the coffees. “Thank you kindly for bringing these.”
There’s a shyness to the way she looks at me from underneath her long lashes. “Do you hate me? For just showing up like this after…”
“Dumb question. I could never hate you. Especially not when you show up with caffeine.” Our fingers brush when I take the coffees. My pulse jumps. “You wanna come in?”
Sally eyes the pair of nearby rocking chairs. “It’s a beautiful morning.”
So she’s worried about what will happen if we go inside together too. That a good sign? Or a bad one?
That don’t matter though, does it? We’re not hooking up. I’m never putting my hands on her again.
Never ever, ever. Even if she is showing her hand by turning up like this, doing the difficult thing of facing the consequences of our actions rather than sweeping them under the rug. Takes guts to do that.
I love her for it.
“Not gonna be too chilly for you?” I ask.
“I’m good if you are. ”
Why am I thinking about Johnny Cash and how he said heaven was having coffee in the morning with June, his wife?
Might be just as dangerous staying outside with Sally as it would be going inside with her. ’Cause all of a sudden, I’m thinking about marriage and shit.
I’m not good . I really am in heaven. Which is a big fucking problem. Wasn’t I just swearing up and down that I was gonna keep my distance? Tell Sally we can’t do this thing, whatever it is?
“I’m great.”
“Okay.” Sally sits, and I hand her a cup of coffee.
“What’d ya get us?” I land in the chair beside her.
The sun slants onto the porch, and I stretch out my legs to feel its warmth. Birds flit through the trees nearby, filling the air with their chatter. The smell of freshly fallen leaves and woodsmoke is everywhere.
“Lattes. Two pumps of hazelnut, extra hot.”
“A shameless appeal to my sweet tooth then.”
She grins at me as she folds over the little drinking tab on her cup, securing it so that steam escapes from the tiny opening. “Yes.”
I sip, and she sips. The latte is hot and sweet with just the right amount of hazelnut flavor.
It tastes like Sally.
Our eyes meet.
She thinking about the kiss too? What is she thinking in general?
She doesn’t look teary or angry, like she regrets what we did. Neither of us drank much. And it was just a little making out. If I did that with anyone else, I wouldn’t think twice about it. We’re not in eighth grade anymore.
With Sally though, making out feels monumental. Probably because it is. We crossed a line I’d thought we’d never cross, and I admitted things to her I’d never thought I’d have the courage to say. Granted, I said them with my lips, my body, my hands. But Sally’s a smart girl. She has to know I was very much into what we did in the front seat of my old Dodge.
An awkward beat of silence stretches between us, and I scramble to think of something to say.
Do I play it safe, make small talk? Pretend like it never happened?
Or do I jump in with both feet and tell my best friend I’ve been in love with her for over a decade? Ask her to stay at my place tonight and every night after that, please and thank you?
“So…about last night.” Sally looks at me as she runs her free hand up and down her thigh.
I chuckle. “I’m glad you wanna talk about it because I do too.”
“I loved it,” she blurts. “Every minute, Wy. I loved every damn minute of it. You—everything—you are so, so good at it. That’s what I came here to tell you. I was able to just be in the moment—I wasn’t in my head at all—and that felt liberating in a way I can’t quite describe.”
Welp, there goes my plan to keep it in my pants. I let out a giant sigh of relief as my heart floats around my chest like a big, dumb, happy balloon.
Sally didn’t like making out with me.
She fucking loved it .
Not only that, she ain’t afraid to tell me she loved it. Makes me wanna be brave too.
Fuck not going for round two. If she’s gonna give me the opportunity, I’ll take it. I’ll deal with the fallout later. This is a chance I have to take.
“You’re one hell of a kisser,” Sally continues. “I don’t know if it was as good for you—I feel like I might have unfairly put you on the spot or pushed you?—”
“Did you not feel just how much I loved kissin’ you?” I slowly sip my coffee, like I’m not talking about my best friend turning me on so bad that I came in my pants. “Trust me, I wasn’t pushed. You were better’n good, Sal. You were great.”
Sally’s cheeks flush pink as she smiles again. “Really?”
“Really. And I’d like to do it again. Whatever you want.”
Her eyes go wide. “Are you serious?”
“Long as that’s what you want too.”
“It is, yeah.”
“I have one condition.”
“Name it.”
“No more Beck Wallace. You want me to teach you how to stay out of your head, that’s fine. But you ain’t practicing it with anyone else.”
Once she goes back to New York, she can do what she wants. Out of sight, out of mind. While she’s in Hartsville, however, she’s gonna do me and me only.
Sally looks away, her eyelashes fluttering. “I’m fine with that. That’s…fine.”
“You sure? I don’t want to make you do something you’re not comfortable with?—”
“I’m sure, Wyatt.” She looks me in the eye. “I definitely want to do this.”
“Good. One more condition then.” My heart hammers. “You gotta promise me we’ll still be friends when this is over.”
Because it will end. It has to.
But I won’t think about that right now. Right now, I’m gonna pretend like January doesn’t exist. Like November and December are gonna last forever, so I don’t need to be scared of going all in. Sally’s here to stay.
“Aw, Wy, that goes without saying.” Sally reaches over and grabs my hand, her palm warm from being wrapped around her coffee cup. “You’re my best friend in the world. When I got home last night, I literally couldn’t sleep. I was so…excited. And happy. And I kept wondering if it was all so go od because we’re already friends, you know? There’s a level of comfort there that I’ve never had with anyone else.”
I lift a shoulder, my heart doing that hammering thing again. “Whatever the case, I’d like to think we’re both adults. That we’re going in with eyes wide open. Keep talkin’ to me, yeah?” And maybe—just maybe—I’ll finally be able to really talk to you.
“Like I could ever stop.” Sally squeezes my hand. “Thank you, Wy. You really don’t have to help me practice being confident?—”
“But I want to.” The breeze blows her hair into her face. Letting go of her hand, I reach up to tuck the strands behind her ear. I hope she doesn’t notice that my hand’s a little shaky. I can’t believe this is happening. “Let me.”
Her gaze goes hazy, eyes unfocused. A flicker of heat ignites low in my belly.
“Okay,” she says softly.
I ain’t about to waste time. I got a little more than a month to show Sally how a real man treats her. Five weeks—but who’s counting?—to get my fill of her before I have to give her up.
Speaking of that, I gotta make sure we’re on the same page here. Sally’s just looking for a good time. A way to let loose. We cross any other lines, someone’s gonna get hurt.
That someone is me, and I’m going to end up hurt no matter what happens.
I still force out the words. “Just sex, right?”
Sally blinks. My pulse thumps.
Ask me for more. Please, God, ask me for the world so I can give it to you.
Instead, she nods. “Just sex. Yeah.”
“Okay then.” I slap my leg in an effort to distract myself from the sudden pain inside my chest. “You got a lot going on today?”
“I do. There’s a new journal I should read, and a surgeon I really admire just released a podcast episode. I haven’t done laundry in—sheesh—way too long. And Dad’s always on call, so I like to be around to help out if he needs me.” She bites her lip. “But if you gave me an excuse to bail, I totally would.”
“How about…” I pretend to think it over as I grab her hand again. “You need to come check out the herd with me. Weather’s good, and I saw a couple of heifers lingering at the back of the pens yesterday. I need you to triple-check that they’re not sick.”
“Sounds serious.”
“It’s not. But it’ll give us an excuse to go for a ride.”
Her lips twitch. “What kind of ride?”
“Whatever kind you want, sugar.”
She rolls her eyes. “Jesus, you are a living, breathing one-liner.”
“It ain’t a line if it’s true.”
Those eyes flash. “Okay, I can’t tell if you’re actually joking or not.”
“Finish your coffee”—I nod at the cup in her hand—“then find out.”