Chapter 10
MADDIE
I should have known the second I saw Wyatt in that small waiting room that today was not going to be my day.
After my pitch, I came back to a whole heap of work that all needed my immediate attention.
It’s safe to say that I’m tired, hungry, and need a good night’s rest. Not that I’ll have one if the past few have been anything to go by, especially since my latest interaction with Wyatt.
All afternoon, my concentration has been shot to hell.
Every time I’ve picked up an invoice or opened an email, my mind has been filled with the distraction that is Wyatt Wilde and whatever nearly happened between us in that meeting room.
Thank God Jim came in when he did or who knows what would have happened.
Would it have been so bad to find out what Wyatt’s kiss tastes like?
Yes. Dammit. It would have been the worst thing to happen to me in a long time. Wyatt would use that against me at every chance because that’s just how he is.
The smell of grilled chicken wafts through the air as I walk into Daddy’s house. If I can just get through dinner without Wyatt making an appearance, I’ll be eternally grateful.
Daddy is making dinner, like he does whenever he invites me over to eat. Since stepping back, he’s had more time on his hands. He’s not fully retired, but he’s finding things to fill all the spare time he now has.
“Hey, Daddy,” I call as I walk into the kitchen. A big bowl of salad sits on the table set for two. “It’s just us?” I ask, placing my bag down on one of the chairs at the breakfast bar before rounding it and stepping into his side for a hug.
“It is. Your brothers had other plans. Or so they said,” he replies, dropping a kiss on the top of my head.
I’m sure they did. They rarely come around anymore. I see them at work more than I see them at family dinners. More often than not, it’s just me and Daddy.
It would never cross Daddy’s mind that his sons needed the softer side of him, the one he reserved for me and my mom. I’m afraid that he’s too set in his ways to ever change, so I step in, encouraging my brothers to be more present.
My stomach rumbles, reminding me of just how hungry I am. Aside from the pastry I grabbed from the kitchen this morning, I’ve not eaten. I need to get better at making sure I do, because I’ve started to notice my clothes are getting a little looser.
Swiping up the bowl of buttered potatoes, I carry them to the table as Daddy follows me with the plate of chicken.
“If you ask me, I think you lucked out with my company tonight.” I grin as I set the bowl down on the wooden table.
“That I did, Peanut. Now go wash up so we can eat and you can fill me in on how it went today.”
I do as he tells me, uncertainty swirling in my gut as I wash my hands.
Right now, I’m not sure if I can remember much of anything but what nearly happened in the waiting room with Wyatt, and I don’t think Daddy wants to hear about that.
The pitch itself was a blur. I’m not entirely convinced that I came across as cool, calm, and collected.
When my hands are clean, I return to the table, sliding into my seat as I look over the food. “This looks delicious.”
I’m filling our glasses from the jug filled with ice water when Daddy coughs. He picks up his napkin, spluttering into it as I hand him his drink and set the jug back in the middle of the table.
I study him as he chugs the water, taking in the lines on his face and his sun-worn skin.
Every day I feel like I’m reminded of the fact that he’s getting older and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
It’s the reason I don’t mind carving out time in my day to spend with him, even if it means that when I get home, I still have to go through my emails or make notes of things to pick up with Mona in the morning.
When there’s nothing left in the glass, he pulls it away from his mouth, exhaling a harsh breath before sucking in a lungful of air. He doesn’t look at me; instead, he goes back to serving his dinner, picking up the bowl of salad as if nothing happened.
I rest my elbows on the table, narrowing my eyes at him as I ask, “Are you okay?”
“Elbows off the table,” he huffs. “I’m fine,” he adds, loading up his plate with salad before handing me the bowl.
I take it, holding it as I stare at him, a hint of frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
“Daddy, please don’t lie to me. I can see that something’s wrong, and if you haven’t been to the doctor about it, you should.
Whatever it is, you’ve been fighting it for at least a week, because every time I see you, you nearly cough up a lung. ”
The worry sits heavy on my chest, tangling with everything else I’ve been trying to ignore today. Wyatt. The pitch. That almost-kiss I can’t seem to shake.
Daddy sets down the plate of chicken before taking the salad bowl from me and spooning the leaves onto my plate. “If it makes you happy, I’ll go to the doctor tomorrow. Now stop fussing over me and eat, because you’re getting too thin and I’m the one who’s supposed to be worrying about you.”
“Thank you,” I reply, stabbing at a piece of chicken, even though I’m not sure I can eat anything until I know he’s really going to be okay.
We dish up the rest of our food in silence, the occasional scrape of cutlery on the china echoing around the room as Daddy dives in.
“So, how did the pitch go?” he asks.
“Okay. I think.” I pause, cutting off a piece of chicken and loading it onto my fork. “Wyatt Wilde was there; apparently, he’s making a bid for the land too.” I stuff the forkful into my mouth and add, “Oh, and Jim says hi.”
“We knew the Wildes would be, right?”
I nod. “I thought they’d pitch.” I didn’t think I’d have to wait in the same room as Wyatt, or that I’d nearly kiss him, though.
What would I have done if he had kissed me? That’s the question that’s been plaguing me all afternoon.
Unaware of where my thoughts have gone, Daddy asks, “Did you get a sense of what Jim was thinking?”
I clear my throat. “No. You know Jim, he keeps his cards close to his chest. He did mention something about a corporate company coming from New York who were pitching too, though. I don’t know if that means we’ll have to reconsider our offer, but he’s got to have told me for a reason.”
“I don’t think Jim would ever go for that. Ruining the beauty of Montana isn’t something he would want to do, and those big companies are only focused on the dollar signs. He’s probably only telling you so that he can up our bid. If it’s between us and the Wildes, then we’ve got a decent shot.”
“I hope so,” I murmur. “You know what Wyatt’s like.” I say it lightly, but the truth is, I don’t know what Wyatt’s like anymore. Not after today and the way he’s been making me feel things I shouldn’t.
Daddy shakes his head. “Yeah, too caught up in history to prepare for the future, but I trust Jim to make the right decision on this, and that is us.”
He sounds so sure. I guess that’s what comes with running a business for as long as Daddy has run the ranch, but I’m not so optimistic, and I wouldn’t put it past Wyatt to do something just so he can one-up us.
We fall quiet for a while as we enjoy our dinner before Daddy breaks the comfortable silence and asks, “Did Luke manage to get the air conditioning fixed in the kitchen?”
I nod, chewing on my food before swallowing it down and replying, “Yes. He had to wait for a part to come in, but he was here when I left this morning and Oscar reassured me that it’s cooler than ever in the kitchen now. How was your meeting with the contractors this afternoon?”
He wipes his mouth with his napkin and leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he rests his elbows on the arms. “Good, the barn should be finished within the week.”
“Do you want me to ask Chloe to come and take some pictures for the website? I think it would be good to have the aesthetic match the others.”
Last year, Chloe Lawson—soon-to-be Wilde—was visiting for her sister’s wedding.
She had a whirlwind romance with Kade, and it just so happened to be that we needed a photographer for a year, so I offered her a job.
She’s become one of my closest friends and confidantes, despite her proximity to the pain in my ass that is Wyatt.
“I think that would be a good idea.”
We fall quiet, finishing up dinner and tucking into some homemade apple pie that Oscar made. It’s late by the time I leave, kissing Daddy on the cheek and heading out with a promise to call when I get home. Even though I live a five-minute drive away on the same property, he always makes me call.
I spend the short drive home rehashing what almost happened with Wyatt and the way my body felt more alive than it had any right to be at the mere hint of him claiming me.
There might be something seriously wrong with me, because in what world am I allowing him to occupy even a second more of my time?