Page 42 of Wyatt

Giving him a shove, I laugh. He laughs, too, and it strikes me just how excited I am for tonight. Nervous? Yes. But if I’m already having this much fun with Wyatt, I think the potluck is going to be a really good time.

I always have a really good time with this man, and that’s exactly what I need—a reminder that I’m capable of confidence, of wittiness. Icanbe myself around a guy. I just need to practice with Wyatt so I can eventually be comfortable around other men too. So I can justbe, no fucks given.

“Everything I made being a resident. So, like, fifty bucks,” I say.

“I ain’t takin’ your money, but I will take you out.” He nods at the passenger seat. “Get in, or we’ll be late.”

My nerves take over the closer we get to the potluck, which is being hosted at a neighbor’s barn fifteen or so minutes away.

What if there are no cute cowboys there? What if things get awkward between Wyatt and me? What if they’re the opposite of awkward?

He lookssogood in that suit.

So. Fucking. Good.

If he wasn’t my best friend and totally, completely out of my league, I would one hundred percent jump his bones right now.

Using one hand to guide the truck into the gravel lot outside the barn, Wyatt cranks the gearshift into park and kills the engine.

The nighttime quiet fills the cab.

Is it just me, or is the silence between Wyatt and me suddenly thick, alive with anticipation?

“We should talk about what you’re okay with.” His eyes flick over my legs, lingering on the spot where my bare thigh peeks through the slit in my dress. “In terms of, you know, touching and…stuff. I don’t know if it’ll put you in your head or…”

I force out a laugh, cringing inwardly at the high, shaky sound of it. “I’m okay with touching and stuff. We did it at The Rattler the other night, and it actually helped me get out of my head.”

His eyes meet mine. “Tonight, I need you to be more specific. Tell me what you want me to do so I can do it.”

A rush of heat floods my face. I like this serious version of Wyatt too much.

I need a drink. Badly.

“To be honest, Wyatt, I’m not sure what to ask for.”

“Jesus, Sal, have youeverbeen on a date before?”

“I mean, I have. It’s just been a while. A long while since I had fun on a date. I forget how to do it.”

He frowns. “You forget, or the guys you were with forgot how to treat you proper-like?”

“Proper-like?” I scrunch my nose. “All right, Pa fromLittle House on the Prairie.”

He blinks, his eyes going soft. “Are you complimenting me with that reference?”

“Of course I am.” I smile, even as my heart twists. “I remember very well how obsessed you and your mom were with Laura Ingalls Wilder.”

“Yep.” He reaches for his mom’s ring, which he still wears on a gold chain around his neck. “It’s how Mom taught us to read chapter books. She started readingLittle House in the Big Woodsout loud to me, then had me read it to her. You know, me trailing my finger underneath every line as I sounded out the words.” He mimics the motion. “She was so patient.”

“A true saint for putting up with you.”

“No shit.” He pauses, giving me the impression he has more to say. Then he sucks in a breath through his nose. “Anyway, back to you and the clueless douches you’ve dated who made you feel the opposite of relaxed.”

I eye him for a long minute. “We can talk about your mom if you want. I’m in no rush to go inside.”

“And here I thought you were in a rush to get laid.”

Chuckling, I reply, “You’re not wrong about that.”

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