Chapter 32
MADDIE
I’m at Chloe’s gallery opening, staring blankly at a photograph of wild horses running through an open pasture. It’s a beautiful picture, capturing the essence of Montana, but it doesn’t hold my attention half as much as the image behind me.
In the reflection of the glass, I watch Wyatt, from where he stands across the other side of the room, talking to a goddess of a woman and laughing like he wasn’t inside me two days ago.
This is what he does. I’ve been reminding myself of that as the minutes pass and my chest tightens. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s slept with half the town since the first time we had sex.
Wyatt is a playboy. Everybody knows it; that’s just how he is.
It never used to matter to me because there wasn’t ever a chance of anything happening between us.
And then I became one of his women. I got attached and started to feel things for him that I have no right to feel.
He never entertains the same woman twice.
I guess, in that regard, I’m different, but I’d be a fool to think that made a difference to him.
And yet, the longer I watch him, the more my body reacts to the sight of him flirting with another woman, as if it’s not out of the realm of possibility for me to kick her ass.
Nausea settles in my stomach as a thin layer of sweat gathers on my skin.
I’m not this kind of woman, and yet he’s turning me into the sort that gets jealous.
I’m not jealous.
I repeat the mantra as if it might turn into the truth.
God, I hate this. I hate how I want him to be mine and how I let him walk away believing I regretted us coming together.
The only thing I regret is that I let myself feel things for him.
I don’t do casual relationships for this very reason.
We’re poles apart, and yet I want him like I need my next breath.
“You know you can go over there and talk to him?” Chloe slides up next to me, reaching out to straighten the already straight picture in front of us.
I take a sip of my wine before facing her.
If I strain my eyes enough, I can still see Wyatt out of the corner of my eye.
I can see him reaching out to touch the arm of the woman he’s talking to and how she doesn’t push him away.
Jealousy rears its ugly head, colliding with my anger and heating my skin as I try to ignore them.
The woman in question is wearing a gold dress that’s perfect for an event like this, with her hair in long braids down her back and a face of makeup that looks like she walked right out of a magazine shoot.
And I’m over here in the only little black dress I own with barely a scrap of makeup on because I didn’t have time by the time I finished work.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply, ignoring the flash of jealousy pooling in my stomach.
“No?” Chloe asks, tilting her head to look at me. “Because you’ve been staring at this picture for the last thirty minutes, and even though I think it’s a beautiful image, it’s not worthy of that much attention, Maddie.”
My body sags before I catch myself and stand taller. “I—” I bite back the lie that’s on the tip of my tongue. “How do I even compete with a woman like that, Chlo? He’s never once looked at me like he’s looking at her.”
She slides her arm around my waist, resting her head on my shoulder as she hugs me into her side and turns us toward them. “That’s my best friend, Maya. She’s only in town for the opening, but I can assure you, she has no interest in Wyatt.”
It doesn’t look like Maya has no interest. In fact, she looks very interested, and who doesn’t love a good vacation fling? Hell, that’s how Chloe and Kade got together.
Chloe leans back, looking me over from head to toe before continuing, “Have you looked in the mirror lately, Maddie? You’re hot and this self-doubt isn’t like you, so either go and talk to him or find another eligible man to flirt with. There’s plenty here. Kade invited half the rodeo circuit.”
She’s right. I’m in my own head and have been since Wyatt left my house the other day.
I feel all twisted up inside over a man, and that isn’t like me at all.
God, I can’t go on like this. It’s time I did something about it, because if he can carry on like nothing ever happened between us, then so can I.
I scan the room, and my gaze lands on a cowboy standing in front of a picture of the valley that Coldwater sits in, a beer in his hand. He looks like he feels a little out of place, but he’ll do. I’m just flirting, testing the waters, nothing more.
I throw back my wine and pull in a deep breath before blowing it out and turning to Chloe. “How do I look?”
She picks a piece of lint off the flowy long sleeve of my deep V-neck dress before replying, “Let’s just say, if I wasn’t happily engaged and actually swung that way, I’d be begging to take you home.”
I blush, dipping my chin to hide my face behind the dark curtain of my hair before I grin at her. “Good. Maybe I’ll find someone to do just that.”
“That’s the attitude,” Chloe cheers, taking my empty glass and smacking me on the ass as I turn to leave.
Here goes nothing.
I push my shoulders back, hoping that my walk is sensual and not like a deer on ice as I cross the room. As much as I don’t want to do this, I have to, if only to prove to myself that this feeling I’ve been fighting since I saw Wyatt with Maya isn’t jealousy.
I’m within touching distance of the guy I vaguely recognize from the rodeo circuit when a hand takes hold of mine and pulls me away.
Even without looking at him, I know the heat of Wyatt’s touch like the pastures at Hartlands.
I stumble before finding my footing as he drags me through the room and into the space at the back of the gallery.
What is he doing? My gaze bounces around the room, grateful that we’re not drawing any attention.
A flutter starts in my stomach before I can shut it down. Now isn’t the time, and if he thinks he can waltz on over here and cockblock me, he’s got another thing coming. He doesn’t own me and he sure as shit can’t stop me from doing what he was. Hypocrite.
We come to a stop in a room full of boxes, with a desk at the back of it. A silent battle of wills takes place between us as we stare at each other. I refuse to be the first one to speak, especially because he’s the one who dragged me in here.
Maintaining my silence, I allow my gaze to bounce around his face, hating that I’m becoming all too familiar with it.
Wyatt’s the first to break, demanding, “What were you about to do, Mad?”
That damn nickname.
I press my lips together, crossing my arms over my chest and reveling in the fact that his eyes drop to the cleavage I have on display. Good. Keep looking, because you’re not touching me, ever again.
“What does it matter to you?” I sneer.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Answer the damn question.”
“I was going to talk to…” I rack my brain for the rider’s name, but come up empty. It doesn’t fucking matter. “You were doing exactly the same thing,” I seethe.
“And what was I doing?” He mimics my pose, and suddenly I don’t feel so sure.
Was this a test? No. He’d have to care what I think for that.
“You know what you were doing.” My voice sounds weak and filled with uncertainty. God, I was so sure I had read him right out there.
He shakes his head. “I don’t think I do.” Crowding me in, he murmurs, “Spell it out for me, darlin’.”
I swallow thickly, my gaze jumping around the room behind him as I search for a way out. “You were doing what you do, Wyatt,” I reply half-heartedly.
He cocks a brow, gripping my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look at him. “Talking to people?”
“Flirting with hot women. Don’t play dumb, Wyatt,” I snap, jerking my chin out of his hold.
The corner of his mouth kicks up before he grins at me, his teeth on full display. I hate that he looks so handsome. A flicker of regret zaps through me. I wish I’d been on the receiving end of his smile more in the years that I’ve known him.
“Wow.” He takes a step forward. “Maddie Hart, are you jealous?”
Affronted, I pout and scowl at him, huffing out, “Over you? Not a chance.”
When he runs a finger down my cheek and over my bottom lip, I melt.
I hate that his touch can calm me.
He gets even closer, and the scent of his aftershave fills my nostrils as I inhale. It’s woodsy and masculine with a hint of cinnamon.
His voice is a low rumble when he murmurs, “I think you are, and I like it.” Wyatt dips, dusting his lips over mine and making my knees buckle beneath me.
I reach out and hold on to the fabric of his shirt, like I might slip and drown if I don’t anchor myself to him. What is he doing to me?
He pulls away a fraction, everything about him cocooning me in the most consuming way possible. “Go on a date with me, Mad,” he whispers, as if part of him is afraid to ask.
I push him away and he straightens, holding his hands up as he moves back, finally giving me a respite from his nearness. Is this some kind of game? Another level of his revenge?
“What did you just say?” I ask, certain that I’ve misheard him.
He shoves his hands into the pockets of his dress trousers. A hint of pink fills his cheeks, and as I search his face, I see nothing but sincerity in his gaze. “Go on a date with me.”
Confusion clouds my mind, because there’s no way he’s asking me that for real. There’s got to be another reason. “Why?” I ask.
He presses a hand to his chest, chuckling, but I can sense the hurt behind the sound. “Damn, you really know how to cut a man down.”
Running my fingers over my forehead, I rush, “I just mean, you don’t like me. Why would we go on a date?”
Wyatt reaches out, his hand coming to rest on my hip as he pulls me into him. “Why do you think I don’t like you, Mad?”
This time it’s my turn to laugh. “You can’t be serious, right? Up until a matter of days ago, you’ve barely said a nice word to me.”
He shrugs as if the years of rivalry are trivial in the grand scheme of things. “Yeah, well, I was a fool. I do like you. A lot.”
I twist my mouth to the side. “Do you, though? Or do you just like having sex with me?”
He tips his head back and huffs out a breath. “Damn. The sex is an added bonus, but I promise you, I do like you. Although I’m starting to think you might not actually like me.”
Ha. That’s funny. “Don’t try to twist this back on me, mister.” I poke him in the chest and give him my best stern look.
We fall quiet, the familiar tension settling in my gut the longer I look at him. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear the muted sounds of the party in the gallery, but all I can focus on is this moment. On him and what he’s asking me.
I dart my tongue out to wet my lips before saying, “What about Deacon?”
“I’m not asking Deacon.”
I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
He squeezes me close, resting his chin on my head as I settle against him. His heartbeat is a sure and steady rhythm in his chest. “Can we cross that bridge when we come to it?”
I lean back, wondering if I should push for a better answer but knowing that if I was in his shoes, I’d be asking the same. Instead, I nod and say, “Yes. I’ll go on a date with you, but I want to keep it under wraps until we figure out what this is.”
He hits me again with that devastatingly handsome smile before bending to kiss me like he’s been waiting his entire life for the chance.
When he steps back, I feel the loss of him and almost follow in his wake with a plea for more on the tip of my tongue.
His voice is gruff when he says, “We’ll keep it under wraps if that’s what you want, darlin’. Be ready for six tomorrow night, please.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. He gives me one more chaste kiss before slipping through the door. I collapse against the wall, my eyes wide as my heart gallops in my chest.
Holy shit. I’m going on a date with Wyatt Wilde.