Chapter 5 #2
With each step, I try to convince myself that what just happened with Wyatt was nothing.
That what I thought I felt against my ass was pure imagination.
I can’t even remember the last time I got laid—I was in Kansas maybe?
Some guy with tattoos I met in a bar? Obviously not super memorable.
No wonder I’m so horny. As soon as Wyatt leaves, I’ll find batteries and some relief.
Maybe that will tamp down these insane urges I have to tackle the poor man.
“You work fast,” I say to Wyatt when I return to the bedroom, He’s faced away focused on furniture assembly. It takes concentrated effort to tear my gaze away from his very fine as, but once I do, I notice the bookshelf is over half assembled.
“It’s an easy job,” he says with a shrug. “Need help with the bottom sheet?”
“Nah, I got it.”
He returns his attention to the bookshelf.
He discarded his uniform shirt in my brief absence, and I can’t help but watch the way his black shirt sleeve strains against his flexed bicep as he works the screwdriver.
Fuck, I bet that man could bench press me with one hand.
Wetness pools between my legs at the thought.
“I found Walter Smalley,” he says, not looking back.
“Oh good. That means he’s alive!” The relief of the subject change is almost as welcomed as the news itself. I spread the bottom sheet over my mattress and start to tuck the corners in when another thought occurs. “Wait. If he’s alive—”
“He’s at Shady Pines.”
“What is Shady Pines?”
“A nursing home in Springdale.”
“Why is he—wait, didn’t Paps say something about a grandson? What’s his role in all this?”
“Walter had a mild stroke a few weeks ago, and his grandson put him in a nursing home.”
“That’s really sad.” I struggle with the last corner until I press my chest into the mattress. I tug it taut, but the opposite corner pops free. Dammit.
“That’s why I was late getting here,” he admits. “I was gathering intel.”
“What about Birdie?” I ask, moving around the bed.
“Still trying to figure that out. Oh, get this. Birdie’s not the only one.”
“Only one what?”
Wyatt turns, watching me struggle with the sheet. Mild amusement twinkles in those dark eyes. “Alpaca.”
“I don’t follow. I didn’t think the alpaca race was going extinct.” I yank the fabric down only for the opposite corner to come loose once again. “Son of a bitch.”
“I got it,” Wyatt says, his body lightly brushing mine as he squeezes in the tight space between me and the wall.
I fucking hate that a single touch from this man who’s been one of my closest friends for the past year is causing every nerve ending to tingle mercilessly.
Why can’t things just go back to the way they were before?
I want these urges to go take a fucking hike. I want to look at my best guy friend and not wonder what weapon he’s wielding beneath his pants.
No, you horn dog, you want Wyatt to bend you over the bed and have his filthy way with you.
“Do you want to come?”
“C—come?”
“I’m going to see Walter tomorrow.”
Wow, I really do have a problem. Note to self: order extra batteries.
“Yes, I want to meet Walter. Seems only right since I bought his house. Does he know that?”
“Depends on who you ask.”
Remembering I stashed my house closing documents in my nightstand drawer for safe keeping, I move around the bed. But when I tug the drawer open, I spot Wyatt’s shirt wadded up inside it.
I slam the drawer shut.
“You okay, Ev? You’re acting a little strange.”
“I’m just tired,” I say, feigning a yawn. “Can we finish the furniture thing another time? I have to be at the ranch super early. Apparently most of the animals are their most photogenic at dawn, so Macy wants me there bright and early.”
“Of course.” He gathers the loose pieces of the bookshelf, stacking them of the way in the corner out.
“I want to go with you tomorrow,” I say when I follow him to the door. “To see Walter.”
On the step in my garage, he turns. Our eyes lock, and a lump forms in my throat.
I’ve never been intimidated looking in Wyatt’s eyes before.
Hell, until now, I didn’t realize they were a shade of brown so dark they’re almost black.
My attempts to look anywhere else lands my gaze on his lips.
I bet this cowboy knows how to kiss a woman so thoroughly her bones melt.
Hell, I bet that mouth has many talents.
“Ev.” Wyatt’s low tone sounds like a warning.
Does the man not realize I live for warnings?
They don’t scare me away, they pull me in.
Fuck, it would be so easy to reach out and grab a fistful of his black T-shirt.
But what would happen if I pressed my lips to his now?
Would he kiss me back with equal enthusiasm, or would he be horrified?
I grip the trim around the door frame with both hands to keep from finding out.
“Thanks for your help,” I say, unwilling to fall into the trap of looking him in the eyes again. I don’t trust myself not to act recklessly if I do.
“I’ll be back to finish the job.” He hops down from the step, turning away. “How about I pick you up in the morning? I need to chat with Paps before we go see Walter.”
“You caught the part where Macy wants me there at dawn?”
He smirks at me. “I did. That’s why I’m offering.”
“Oh. Thanks?”
Wyatt shakes his head in amusement. “I know you, Ev. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”
Better than most. “Okay. I’ll see you bright and early, then.”
“Need me to call you before I head over?” It’s not the first time Wyatt’s offered to be my personal alarm clock. Usually I take him up on it. But the thought of hearing his voice while I’m in bed makes my thoughts turn dirtier by the second.
“Nah, I’ll be fine.”
“If you don’t answer your door, I’m coming inside.”
“C—coming inside?”
Wyatt gives me a strange look. “I have a key, remember?”
“Oh, right.”
“Get some rest, James. Seems like you need it.”
The second I’m able to close the garage door behind him, I press my back against the wall and slide down it.
Shit, shit, shit.
I’m in trouble when it comes to this cowboy. So much fucking trouble.