Page 104 of Tempting Wyatt
“Hey,” he says, pulling me back firmly by the crook of my elbow. “They burned more of the pasture earlier. If the wind kicks up, it could still blow smoke in this direction.”
I arch a brow at him. Currently, there’s not so much as a light breeze. “Okay. I’ll keep the windows closed so I don’t have another freak-out on you.”
His forehead creases, and he lowers his face to mine. “Yeah, your childhood trauma was a real inconvenience. How about you stay at my place tonight, just in case? Pretty sure some of your stuff is still there.”
I stare up at him. He’s not the same man he was when I first arrived. He wanted me gone then. I saw it all over him. And my traumatic childhood did, in fact, condition me to be hyper-aware of when I wasn’t wanted. Now he’s inviting me to sleep at his place.
“I need to grab some more of my stuff if we’re having a sleepover.”
His lips twitch as he jerks his chin toward the door. “Let’s grab your stuff then.”
I start to head into the cabin, but he pulls me to him once again.
His lips graze mine. “I can’t promise there’s going to be any sleep on this sleepover, baby. Finding you in that bunkhouse has me all kinds of twisted up.”
I smile against his mouth. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very, very sexy when you’re jealous?”
His eyes darken as they meet mine. “I’ve never been jealous before today, so no one else has ever seen it.”
Oh.
Oh.
At this information, something inside of me—some secret piece I keep on lockdown and always have—takes off into the sky, soaring out of my chest and into the clouds.
“Wyatt,” I breathe against his mouth, “tell me what that means. Use your big-boy words, pretty please, because I want us to be on the same page here.”
Don’t let me fall if you aren’t going to catch me.
I won’t survive it.
“It means you are going to promise me you won’t go back down to the bunkhouse alone. Ever.”
I get lost in the depths of his eyes or maybe it’s the porch light reflecting in them. “I doubt I’ll be invited back since their boss broke up the fun.”
“Promise me,” he says once more. “And mean it.”
Some defiant part of me wants to remind him that I’m a paying guest and there was nothing in the rental agreement about the bunkhouse being off-limits. I decide to make a demand of my own instead.
“Promise me you won’t take any more of those girls home,” I say softly. “And mean it,” I add in a tone matching his.
Antonio can manage.
A smile teases his lips. “Promise.”
I tilt my head to gauge if he’s being truthful. He looks like he means it.
“Okay then, I promise too. It was kind of smelly and gross in there anyway.”
He huffs out a relieved breath.
I turn to go inside, and he shocks me by slapping my ass. Hard.
“Get your stuff, Hollywood.”
“Yes, sir.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
