Page 6 of Her Protective Cowboy

I wonder about the people in the photographs. His family? Friends? I realize how little I know about this man who’s opened his home to me. The man who lifted me like I weighed nothing.

When we reach the kitchen, Wyatt gestures for me to take a seat at the weathered farmhouse table. I do, and suddenly I’m conscious of how I must look—makeup smeared, hair plastered to my head, wedding dress clinging to my body. A drowned rat masquerading as a bride.

If Wyatt is bothered by my disheveled state, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he moves around the kitchen with an easy grace, pulling ingredients from the fridge and whistling tunelessly under his breath. Desire pools in my belly as I take in the play of muscles beneath his T-shirt as he works.

I’ve never been with a man before. I’ve never even really been kissed. The chaste pecks Bradley and I shared don’t count.

But now, watching Wyatt, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be held in those strong arms. To feel his lips on mine and his hands on my skin. He seems like he would be gentle. Attentive. The kind of man who would take his time and make sure I was ready. I bet he would be the complete opposite of my ex.

I squeeze my eyes shut against the onslaught of memories. Bradley’s snide remarks and not-so-subtle digs about my weight. The way he looked at me sometimes, like I was a problem to be solved. A flaw to be corrected.

And yet, I was going to marry him. Bind myself to him for life just to please my parents. What does that say about me?

“Hey.” Wyatt’s low rumble snaps me from my spiraling thoughts. He slides a steaming bowl of chili topped with melted cheese and a side of cornbread to me. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”

I meet his gaze, startled by the warmth and understanding I find there. As if he can sense the shadows nipping at my heels.

As if he wants to chase them away.

I pick up my spoon and take a bite, the chili warming me from the inside out. “This is delicious,” I say, savoring the rich flavors. “Thank you.”

Wyatt smiles, a real smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “You’re welcome. It’s an old family recipe.”

We eat in silence, the only sound the clink of our spoons against the bowls. But it’s not an uncomfortable silence. It’s... companionable. Easy. Like we’ve done this a thousand times before.

When our bowls are empty, Wyatt leans back in his chair and fixes me with a steady gaze. “So, you wanna tell me what the hell is going on?”

Chapter Three

WYATT

Melody sits at the kitchen table across from me, her fingers twisting at the fabric of her dress. Finally, she meets my gaze. "I left my fiancé at the altar."

"He cheat on you or something?"

She shakes her head. "No. It was an arranged marriage."

My eyebrows shoot up. "People still do that?"

"My parents own a luxury hotel chain on the east coast. Bradley's family own a competing chain. Business hasn't been great for either of them these days, so our parents cooked up this merger disguised as a marriage. Combining the Sinclair and Worthington empires through us." Melody sighs. "I went along with it because I thought it was my duty. And part of me hoped that love would come later, even if the marriage was arranged. Bradley seemed charming at first, like we could at least be partners."

She looks down at her hands. "But then, the closer we got to the wedding, things started to change."

Curiosity gets the better of me. "Change how?"

She bites her lip, blinking back tears. “He became controlling. Possessive. Started making all these demands about how I should look, what I should wear. He even chose mywedding dress.” A tear escapes and rolls down her cheek. “I felt like I was suffocating. Like I was losing myself.”

I study Melody, imagining the pressure she must have felt. To have your whole life mapped out, your future bartered away for business dealings. No wonder she ran.

“The worst part was this morning,” Melody continues. “I overheard Bradley and his best man in the hall talking about me. They didn’t know I was there.”

My gut twists. “What did he say?”

Her eyes well with tears. “He said he’d have to hold his nose on our wedding night. He said once we were married, he’d make sure I lost weight, one way or another.”

Anger surges through me.What the fuck kind of grown man complains about a woman’s curves? I can’t stop myself from saying, “He’s an idiot, baby. You’re fucking gorgeous. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

Her eyes widen and a faint blush colors her cheeks. Suddenly, the air around us feels charged.

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