Page 41 of Say You Want Me
“Different is sometimes better.”
“True.” I sigh. “It also can mean we’re not right for each other.”
Wyatt looks at the sky, rubs his hand on my back, and then moves my face closer to his. “I think the fact that we can lie in this boat, driftin’ on the water together, and not need to fill the silence is all the right we need. You’re not like any woman I’ve ever known. I think, considering all the women I’ve been with, the fact that I’ve never wanted more with anyone but you says something. You’re right; you’re different. You’re mine because I want you to be.”
I smirk. “So I’m yours?”
His grin grows playful. “You will be again.”
“Does that mean that you’re mine?”
“I’ve never been anyone else’s.”
I think about that. Neither of us have taken the steps to be with anyone on a serious note. We’ve both kept ourselves without strings. I think that means something. But Wyatt has known love. It may not have been reciprocated, but he’s felt it. I haven’t.
Instead of pushing and possibly ruining a tender moment, I just nod.
“Enough bein’ lazy. Fish need to eat, and we need lunch.”
“Umm.” I sit up a bit straighter. “I thought you were kidding. The only way I like my fish is rolled around some rice.”
Wyatt laughs. “You really have a love for food.”
“Shut up. I’m serious! I’m not really a fish person.”
“Have you ever fished before?”
“No.” I shake my head.
“Well,” Wyatt chuckles, “how do you know you don’t like it? Plus, if you don’t catch anything, you’re going to be hungry,” he says as he grabs the poles. “I only brought stuff for a good fish fry.”
My stomach churns at the thought. I’m not a seafood person, especially not if it’s a fish we’re going to have to handle. I shudder. “That spa better have a salon attached.”
He ignores me and hands me the rod. “The line is ready, bait the hook.”
I have no idea what the hell he said. “Can you talk city to me?”
“You gotta put the food on the hook.” He hands me the tub full of worms.
I shake my head. “No, no, no. Not happening.”
“It’s a worm. It doesn’t bite.”
He opens the top, and I start to gag. Oh, I can’t. I put my head over the side of the boat in case this baby helps me a little.
“Hey.” He touches my back. “I’ll do it, baby. Don’t get sick.” Wyatt runs his hand up and down as I try to focus on anything but hurling. Becausethatwon’t be embarrassing at all.
I take a deep breath through my nose and push it out of my mouth.
“Better?” he asks as I sit up.
“I’m okay.”
The nausea fades, but I know better then to watch what Wyatt is doing. So. Gross.
Wyatt tosses the line over the edge of the boat and then hands me the rod. “Just hold it out there, and if it gets a tug, start reeling it in.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
