Page 120 of Tempting Wyatt
“Take action, as in begin the foreclosure on the property that's been in my family for generations?”
He nods solemnly. “I'm sorry, Wyatt.”
With that, he leaves. And I’m left to watch as he drives off, dust kicking up behind his tires.
Then I stare out at the ranch, at everything my family built, the nearly full moon painting the fields in silvery light.
Ninety grand. Thirty days.
Fuck me.
I grip the railing, watch my knuckles go white. I’ll figure something out. I have to.
Because losing this place isn’t an option.
But it’s beginning to feel like a very real possibility.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ivy
I’M FINALLY GETTING the hang of poker when the knock comes at Wyatt’s door.
Granted, I’m sitting in my tank top and underwear and all he’s taken off is his socks from the round he let me win, but still. I was confident I was going to win the next hand.
I only hear parts of his conversation with the man in the bowtie, but it’s enough.
Enough to know I’m out of time. I have to send my agent what I have of my screenplay and see if she can get the advance from the production company as soon as possible.They already made a tentative offer based on the success ofRandom Heartsand how quickly I’d producedCaptive. All I had to do now was finish the final synopsis of Welcome to Paradiseand the advance would be mine.
Except that was the hard part. I didn’t know the ending yet.
I suspect my ending, when Wyatt finds out what I do for a living, won’t be a very happy one. But remembering what Isaac said about the ends justifying the means and hearingwhat I just heard from a banker on Wyatt’s porch, means it’s time.
I need to talk to Laurel Logan.I need her to help me break the news to Wyatt.
I want to run out there and hug him, hold him together while everything else in his world is falling apart.
He works so damn hard. Harder than anyone I’ve ever known. And he could still lose everything. My heart breaks for him.
I curl up on the couch as their conversation continues. Sounds like the banker is leaving, and I don’t want Wyatt to come in here and know I overheard.
I grab a knit blanket and pull it over my lower half while I wait. My body is heavy and tired from the long day.
I have a feeling Wyatt and I won’t be finishing our poker game tonight.
I hear him pacing outside. I know him well enough to know he’ll come inside when he’s ready, so I close my eyes and wait.
When I wakeup on Wyatt’s couch, it’s still dark outside, but a glow of light comes from the kitchen.
Scrambling to find my phone tangled somewhere in the blanket, I check the time. It’s well after midnight.
If Wyatt’s still up this late, he won’t get much sleep. The man wakes with the rooster I think.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes and shoving my mess of hair from my face, I make my way into the kitchen. Wyatt’s blue and black flannel is draped over a chair. I put it on over my tank top and panties.
He’s so busy scribbling notes on stacks of paper at the kitchen table that he doesn’t notice me.
“Did you get any sleep?”
