Page 12 of Tempting Wyatt
“Laurel—I mean, Mrs. Logan—is your mom?”
“That’s what you took away from everything I just said?”
She lifts her eyebrows, assessing me with her gaze. Like I’m not worthy of being my mother’s son. She’s probably not wrong.
This would be so much easier if she wasn’t so damn attractive.
It’s not in my nature to tell beautiful women to get the hell off my property. Even if I want them to.
“Yeah, she’s my mom.”
And I’ve been acting like I was raised by wolves since you arrived.
Taking in a deep breath because I’ve been a dick to this stranger who doesn’t deserve it, I reach out my hand and formally introduce myself, like I should’ve to begin with. “I’m Wyatt Logan. Technically, this is my ranch. My family’s ranch really.”
She regards me warily for a moment, and I don’t blame her. When she slips her hand into mine, a flood of adrenaline hits my system.
“Ivy Anderson,” she says softly. “But I think I told you my name already.”
I nod, forcing myself to release her hand. I could pull her to me so easily, could devour her sweet, tight body up against this wall until sunup. She smells like honey and sunshine. The need to taste her has been plaguing me since we climbed on that damn four-wheeler.
As if she can read my mind, her lips part, and a breath of air escapes.
“You don’t have to say it’s nice to meet me. I know it hasn’t been,” I offer when the silence gets thick enough to strangle us both.
She offers me a soft smile. “It hasn’t been all bad. The view is amazing.”
I arch an eyebrow, and she blushes a pretty shade of pink.
“I meant, the view of the mountains. The, um, nature. You have a beautiful home.”
You have a beautiful everything.
“Thank you.”
“Are you a cowboy here on the ranch?”
My jaw clenches. “Not exactly.”
She makes a faint sound of surprise. “Oh, sorry. I don’t know how any of this works. But I guess if you own it, you don’t have to work on it.”
She literally couldn’t be more wrong.
“So, no ropin’ and wranglin’ for you then?”
Her version of an accent is surprisingly sexy. Not that any of us actually speak that way. Last I checked, we’re all familiar with theG’s on the ends of words.
“I rope and wrangle if I’m needed. But we have wranglers and ranch hands for that.”
She bites her lower lip as if she’s nervous suddenly, and it’s adorable.
And now I need to kick my own ass because I do notthink of women as adorable. Babies are adorable. Puppies are adorable.
Women fit into two categories.
Fuckable and not fuckable.
Nothing complicated. It’s a simple system really. If they’re looking for a husband, not fuckable. If they’re relatively uncrazy and looking for a good time, fuckable.
