Page 11 of Tempting Wyatt
“On the what now?”
“Wait here,” he practically growls at me.
With that, he turns and leaves me alone, stomping off in the direction from whence he came.
Well then . . .
So much for feeling guilty.
I don’t know what this guy’s problem is, but he could learn a thing or two about hospitality. Laurel seemed so sweet and eager to have me here. But thisWyatt, she called him, was the opposite of welcoming.
Well, too bad for him.
Because not only is there a breathtaking view of themountains and a picturesque river running through this gorgeous sprawling property, but there’s also free pie.
So, I might never leave.
Choke on that, Wyatt.
CHAPTER SIX
wyatt
ONLY MY MOTHER WOULD NAME the guest cabin and rent it out without discussing it with me first.
Lazy Bear, this Ivy lady called it. The nickname my mother used to call my dad in jest because he was bear-sized, but he was the furthest thing from lazy.
Whatever this Ivy woman has paid, I intend to issue her a full refund and send her on her way as soon as possible.
This decision is fully reinforced when she joins me on the ATV. Once I strap her bags onto the back, there’s very little room for her to squeeze in behind me. Despite the fact that I know I intimidated the hell out of her upon her arrival, she wraps her arms around me when I tell her to hold on. Maybe I imagine it, but just before I crank the engine, I think I hear her gasp as her fingertips dig into my chest.
Under no conditions do I want to take her tight little body in my arms when she’s pressed against me on the four-wheeler. Nor do I watch her delectable ass every step of the way as she practically skips up the cabin steps while I carry her two fancy bags.
I need to get laid. That’s all it is.
It’s been six months—the longest I’ve ever gone without sex since I started having sex—and I’ve been working myself to death.
The pent-up frustration I’ve been ignoring is front and center every time I lay eyes on this woman.
This weekend, I’ll stop in The Stillery, the local bar owned by a buddy of my dad’s, and hook up with a tourist. Maybe I’ll head to The Wild Coyote, the one with the mechanical bull that draws all the bachelorette parties and hook up withtwotourists.
Then maybe my entire body won’t vibrate with nearly uncontrollable need every time this woman brushes past me. She claims to be from Los Angeles, and there are California plates on her car. Of all places. She’s probably going to try and teach the ranch hands yoga while eating tofu. I’m fairly certain she isn’t going to make it two weeks out here.
Hopefully, she’ll bail out in a few days. One less headache to deal with.
“This is so adorable and perfect,” the interloper gushes, admiring the warm glow of the porch light and the hanging baskets of forget-me-nots and ferns my mother must’ve put up recently.
“Don’t get too excited, Hollywood,” I warn her as I open the door. “Not a lot of frills out here. Wi-Fi isn’t reliable.”
She tosses me an odd look as she steps inside. “Yes, because I rented a cabin in the middle of nowhere, hoping it would have high-speed internet.”
I almost chuckle at her comment but resist the urge.
Sassy little thing, this one.
“Okay then. I’ll give you the two-cent tour. I’m sure my mom will be down shortly to give you a better one.” I placeher bags beside the front door and point as we walk through the cabin. “Living room. Kitchen. Bathroom is behind that door. And down that hall are two bedrooms. A master with its own bathroom and a smaller one there in the hallway. There’s a hot tub on the back deck, but I haven’t checked it in a while, and I didn’t know anyone was coming, so I can’t be certain if the water is clean and the jets are functioning. Don’t wander into the woods after dark and don’t leave any food outside.”
When she says nothing, I meet her confused stare.
