Page 8 of Say You Want Me
“I just want to go inside, Wyatt. I really need to talk to Presley.” I whine the last part. If I can get away from him, I can get my head on straight. I’m only here for a few days. I figured we would talk for like five minutes before I left, and then I could be on my merry way.
“Well, I think we should talk about the last time you were here.” His voice drops an octave lower.
“I don’t think there’s a point.” I pull my hand back.
I bite back the words about how the last time I was here, our “talking” altered the course of our lives.
“I think there is.”
“What would you like to talk about, Wyatt?”
“We could skip the talking if you’d prefer. I’m sure Presley and Zach wouldn’t mind having their house to themselves.” He grabs my wrist again and pulls me close. “And you can try to come on to me again. Only this time, I won’t fight you so much.”
Bastard.
“I think you’re confused.” I was not the chaser, he was. “You wanted me the minute you saw me. You watched every time I bent over, you couldn’t help yourself, could you?” The heat between us just rose about a hundred degrees. “You wanted me, Wyatt Hennington. You were the one who was too busy trying to charm me. I was here for my friend, and you made it your job to bed me.”
Our mouths are mere inches apart. It would be so easy to kiss him. The desire we both have eclipses any anger or frustration sitting below the surface. All that surrounds us is this. I breathe him in. The heat ripples off his body. A body that I know is solid and damn near perfect.
Kiss me, Wyatt.
No. I don’t want that. It’s the damn hormones.
“You don’t even know me,” Wyatt says as our noses almost touch. “You have no idea what I was doing.”
“I know what youweren’tdoing.” I push back. “You weren’t being a gentleman.”
He smirks. “If I remember correctly, you don’t like gentlemen.”
“Maybe I like themafter!”
He’s right. I liked him very much not being a gentleman while we were in bed together. What I didn’t like was waking up and finding him gone, as if he expected me to show myself out like I was some whore. The thought stops me for second. I don’t know . . . maybe I was. I did give it up pretty early. I guess the saying, “Why buy the cow when you get the milk for free,” is accurate. But that doesn’t mean I’m not pissed.
“You have some nerve.” I rip my arm out of his grasp.
“Why the hell are you so mad?”
This man is out of his mind. “You left me! I woke up to find you missing!” I can’t even believe this. “I waited for thirty minutes. Then it was clear that you left so I could see myself out. So I did. So much for Southern charm.”
“Women. Y’all are the most confusing creatures on the planet.” Wyatt gets close again and grabs my waist.
“You’re not any better! You chase me for almost two years, telling me how fantastic it was the last time and all the new things you want to do to me, but then you get it and you’re gone.” His hand stays where it is, even when I try to pull back, so I keep going. “And to top it off, you didn’t even bother trying to call or anything after. I mean, nothing.” My eyes narrow as I really get pissed. “Don’t even act like you couldn’t get my phone number, Wyatt Hennington. I just wasn’t worth it.”
“Honey.” He leans in closer.
“Don’t call me ‘honey’.”
“Darlin’.” He grins. “I work. Every single day.”
And this affects me how? “Whatever that means.” I cross my arms and wait for him to finish. I don’t know what working for Presley’s parents have anything to do with him leaving.
Wyatt ignores my snip and continues, “See, down here, the horses don’t give a shit if it’s Sunday. They need to eat. And since I work for the Townsend’s, I have to make sure the farm is taken care of. I didn’t leave you or want you to leave, but I wasn’t going to wake you at five in the morning . . . not unless it was for another round.”
I didn’t even think that maybe he was working. I assumed he was done with me, but I was apparently wrong, which bothers me. I don’t know why. Not that it matters, because that’s not what I care about anymore anyway.
“What does any of this even mean?” I ask the sky.
Wyatt touches my cheek. “It means I didn’t want you to leave, Angie Benson. It means I liked having you next to me. It means the next time you’re in my bed with your blonde hair on my pillow, you should stay there. It means I wanted you to stay.”
