Page 33 of Twins for the Mountain Daddies

Wyatt

Ishove my hands into my jacket pockets, making my way down the main street. The mission is simple: run some errands, ask about rentals for Ivy.

"Hey, Wyatt!" calls Jim from the hardware store. "Who's the new girl?"

"Friend from out of town," I reply, keeping it vague. He raises an eyebrow but doesn't pry. Jim knows when to back off.

"Any vacancies at your rental units?" I ask. A shake of his head, and I'm on to the next stop.

"Pretty little thing with you, huh?" Betty, the postmistress, says with a wink. I just chuckle, dropping off a package.

"Looking for a place for her," I say. "You heard of anything?"

"Sorry, hon. Rentals are tight these days."

"Thanks, Betty." I sigh and step back outside.

The crisp air bites at my cheeks as I walk. Folks nod and wave. They know me, respect me, but their curiosity about Ivy is like a buzzing fly—annoying, persistent.

"Got a visitor, Wyatt?" Ted, who runs the grocery, leans on his broom. “Heard she’s a pretty thing.”

"Yep," I answer, picking up a few supplies. "Know any spots she could rent?"

"Nothing 'round here," he replies, ringing me up.

"Appreciate it, Ted." I adjust the bag on my shoulder, heading out.

With each conversation, it's the same story. No luck. Not a single lead on a place for Ivy.

By the time I'm heading back to the coffee shop, the sun has dipped lower, casting long shadows across the streets. I push open the door to find her exactly where I left her, staring into her cup.

I slide into the booth across from her, and she looks up with those whiskey-brown eyes, all clouded with disappointment. No glint of success or hope. She shakes her head before I even ask.

"All right, then." I lean back, crossing my arms. "We'll figure it out."

"I’m sorry," she murmurs, a frown tugging at her lips. "I can hire a car service to take me back to the city or something. I don’t want to be a burden."

"Hey, don't worry about it." I lean forward, trying to catch her gaze. "There's no storm coming anytime soon. We've got time. And we don’t mind having you. At all." The reassurance sounds hollow even to my own ears. But her nod, tentative as it is, tells me she's at least willing to believe it for now.

"Thanks, Wyatt." Her voice is a soft exhale, relief mingling with frustration.

I glance out the window where the sun still hangs in the sky, fighting off the approach of evening. A drive might do us both some good—clear our heads, ease the tension that's been building since she walked into my life. And honestly, every second around her is a second spent fighting the urge to touch her again.

"Want to take a quick drive?" I ask, watching her closely. "I know a place."

She hesitates, biting her lip in a way that makes my hand itch to reach out and soothe the pink flesh with my thumb. Then she nods, pushing back her chair. "Sure. That sounds nice."

We're silent as we walk to the truck. I open her door, and she climbs in with a quiet "thank you" that sends a ripple through me. I start the engine, the rumble a familiar comfort, but my mind is far from ease.

The road stretches out before us, trees on either side blurring into a sea of green as we ascend the mountain. I can feel her beside me, her presence like a warm fire on a cold night, inviting yet dangerous. I place my hand on Ivy's thigh and give it a gentle squeeze. It's a test, one I'm not sure I want her to pass or fail. But she doesn't shrink away. Instead, her legs part just a fraction, inviting me in without saying a word.

"Nice view up here," I say, steering us toward an overlook I know. It's secluded, the perfect place to get lost in each other without prying eyes.

No. That’s not…this is about making her smile, not having my way with her.

"Yeah," she replies, her voice barely above a whisper, "it's beautiful."

"Up here," I tell her, nodding toward the winding path that leads to an overlook. The trees fall away as we climb higher, revealing the vast sky stretching over the mountain range.

---