Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Wyatt
I’ve spent the last six hours avoiding the house like it’s on fire.
The entire reason being her. That moment in the garage earlier today has rattled me to the bone.
I can’t escape the fact that I’ve replayed the moment I pulled her into me a thousand times since.
I keep telling myself that it was meaningless.
It was a reaction. That the instinct to keep her safe isn’t as strong now as it was all those years ago. But I’m not sure I believe myself.
From the moment I laid eyes on her under the hood of that ridiculous car—her incredibly toned body working with precision because she more than knew her way around an engine—I was done for.
The way her skin glistened under the light, a soft sheen glazing her from the midday heat.
Since she showed, I realize it’s the first time I’ve really noticed a woman in the longest time, and it made me damn uncomfortable.
The way she looks is one thing, but the way she talks to me is another. She sees through all the bullshit I’ve built up over the past few years. Dammit, she’s waded knee-deep in shit most people don’t experience in a whole lifetime, and she still puts a smile on her beautiful face every day.
The moment I saw that blood running down her wrist, my heart almost flatlined.
I didn’t think. Instinct took over, and I had an insatiable need to protect her.
Just like I did when she almost slid down the bank back at the bridge last week.
Wrapping up her wound was pure torture. Holding her soft skin in my palm, watching her wince as I cleaned her up.
The unmistakable summer scent that was purely her took over all my senses.
I’d never felt such a raw urge to kiss someone.
I pride myself on always being in control, but around Emily Callahan, it seems I’m a loose cannon.
And that’s why I can’t bring myself to look at her right now. I’ve done all the chores down at the stable twice over, drawing more than a few suspicious looks from Wes and Dayton.
She’s heading out with Kassie and the crew tonight. My dad is taking Alex camping by the stream. A few hours in an empty house is exactly what I need to get my head straight.
I trudge toward the house, my boots as heavy as my mood, thinking I’ve finally timed it right. But as I get closer, I see the porch is crowded, and my heart sinks.
Kassie and the guys are sitting on the rail, the air brimming with laughter and pre-game energy.
Damn it. They haven’t left yet.
I take a quick scan of the crew on the porch and notice someone is missing. Hell, even my brother seems to have been roped into this whole ordeal. Where is she?
I keep my head down, making my way to the steps, as Kassie cups a hand to her mouth. “Emily! Get your ass down here! We’re burnin’ daylight!”
My stomach drops.
The sweet sound of her voice floats through the air. “I’m coming! I’m coming!” she shouts, as the screen door cracks open.
I look up. This is it. This is the moment my heart decides to stop beating. If anyone ever asks me what my fantasy is, this is the image that will replay in my head over and over again until the day I die.
Emily steps out in a short black dress with tiny white polka dots that hugs every curve I’ve been trying to put out of my mind.
The deep cleavage is accented with a small ruffle, and she’s paired it with knee-high black cowboy boots and a denim jacket slung over her shoulders.
Her hair is pinned in a half-up do, those long waves tumbling down over her shoulders with a few strands finding their way into that ample cleavage.
Her lips are glossy and pink, and her cheeks are more sun-kissed than when she first arrived.
Incredible isn’t a strong enough word for how she looks right now.
I’m snapped back to reality by a low, collective wolf-whistle emanating from the guys.
It’s hard not to notice the way Wes is tracking her up and down with an approving gaze.
An ugly jolt of jealousy rises to the surface, and I almost choke on it.
As I ascend the steps, Wes clocks the look on my face immediately.
“Told you she was worth the wait, right, guys?” my sister teases, but not before she shoots me a pointed wink.
She’s such a bitch.
I hazard a quick glance at Emily’s face.
She’s wearing more makeup than she usually does—she doesn't need it, not by a long shot—but there’s no denying how fucking stunning she is right now.
She tries to play down the attention with a coy look, but she can’t hide the hint of scarlet creeping up her cheeks.
It’s fucking adorable. The urge to drag her upstairs with me right now is almost too much to take.
“Sure we can’t tempt you to join us, boss?” Wes asks, his voice laced with a hint of a challenge. He succeeds in snapping me back to reality.
“No thanks. You guys have fun,” I grit out, my jaw so tight I’m surprised my teeth don’t crack.
Emily awkwardly zips up her purse, and she gives me a small, tentative smile as she catches my eye. I don’t react. I can’t. If I let my face soften for even a second, I’m done for. I notice her fumbling slightly with the zipper.
“Your hand okay?” I ask quietly, my voice barely carrying over the chatter of the guys.
She looks down at the wound where she’s changed the dressing to a smaller band-aid now that the bleeding has subsided. “Oh—yeah. You did a great job. Thank you.”
I do not have a praise kink.
I do not have a praise kink.
I do not have a praise kink.
All I can do is nod in approval, though my vein is pulsing in my neck.
“Okay, let’s haul ass!” Jax yells, gesturing toward their ride.
They all pile into the minivan, and I can’t help but notice how Jax offers Emily a hand to help her up. I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek as I watch her dress ride up high on her thigh as she enters. My brother raises an eyebrow at me, looking like he can read my mind.
I don’t give him the satisfaction. I shake my head and slam the damn screen door behind me.
I throw off my boots and crash my hat down on the kitchen counter. The house is a silent reprieve from the pure overstimulation I’ve endured out on that porch.
I stand there in the quiet kitchen, the scent of her summer and vanilla perfume still hanging in the air. I can imagine her spraying it all over her as she floated through the kitchen on her way out.
I’m always the one who stays behind to keep the ranch running while the world moves on. But right now, all I can think about is that black polka-dot dress, those black boots, and the fact that every man at The Rusty Nail is about to see exactly what I just saw.
I need a shower or a cold lake, or something to wash whatever this feeling is off me. I storm my way upstairs, my feet heavy on the floorboards, and notice she’s left her door open.
A quick glance inside shows the aftermath of a whirlwind.
A pile of discarded clothes is scattered across the bed.
A hair tool is cooling on the radiator, and her makeup bag is splayed open on the dresser.
The rest of the room looks big and empty.
Her few belongings barely make a dent in it.
A pang of something sympathetic settles in my chest. It’s been easy to forget she’s building a life out of a suitcase while I’m rooted here in the dirt.
I turn back to my own room and practically throw myself onto the bed. My mind is a mess. My dick is rock hard, and I can’t shake the image of her.
I need to deal with the tension in my own lonely way.
It’s the only way I know how to find a moment of relief.
I unzip my jeans and free myself, seeing firsthand exactly what that woman has done to me.
I wrap my fist around my cock, already leaking at the memory of her, and tip my head back, closing my eyes.
The image of her on the porch hits me like a freight train.
I begin to pump vigorously, imagining exactly how that polka dot dress would feel sliding off her hips and landing right here on my bedroom floor.
I unleash every repressed thought I’ve had since she stepped out of that damn car.
I imagine pushing her up against the hay bales in the barn, sliding my hand between her thighs to find her wet for me.
I imagine what those plump, glossy lips would feel like wrapped tight around my dick as I came in her mouth.
I’m close. My breath is hitching. My heart is picking up to a gallop. The final image that breaks me is bending her over the hood of that ridiculous blue car, spreading her legs, and finally…
Finally sinking my throbbing cock into her tight little pussy.
I groan as hot strings of cum spurt up my stomach. I’m panting, my muscles twitching. I’m a total fucking mess in more ways than one.
The silence of the house rushes back in.
The heat evaporates, replaced by a cold, hollow weight in the pit of my stomach. I look down at my hand, then at the nightstand where my wedding ring sits.
I bring my hands to my face, my breath shaking.
I’m married. I’m supposed to be fucking married.
The words scream in my head even though she’s dead.
In my mind. In my heart. I’m still a man who made a promise, despite what was handed to me that day.
To want Emily this way, to let her into the parts of my brain that have belonged to only one woman for a decade, feels like a betrayal.
It feels like I’m burying Charlotte all over again, only this time, I’m the one throwing the dirt.
I’m torn between a dead woman I can’t let go of and a living one who makes me feel like I’m actually breathing for the first time in years.
I roll off the bed, my legs shaky, and head to the bathroom to clean myself up.
I catch my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are bloodshot, my breathing is heavy.
I’m hit with a sudden, consuming realization.
I can stay here and let the guilt eat me alive, or I can go out there and make sure that no one else gets to touch what I’m clearly losing my mind over.
I rip off my shirt and reach for the faucet.
“Fuck it,” I whisper to the empty room.
I make a hasty decision that I need to be at that bar. I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do when I get there, but I sure as hell can’t sit here and fester in my own misery knowing Emily Callahan is being stared down by every motherfucker in town.