Page 16 of Tempting Wyatt
Isaac snickers. The use of my full legal name means there’s no sense in arguing.
“If she doesn’t come eat, you don’t eat,” my mother adds while stirring her famous spaghetti sauce.
Without much thought as to what I’m going to say, I make my way out the door and down the porch steps.
“Hey,” I call out as Ivy reaches her car in the driveway.
She ignores me, yanking the door open without looking up.
“Ivy, wait.” I jog over, catching the top of the door just before she climbs into the car.
She doesn’t look at me.
“Did you hear me?”
Wounded hazel eyes meet mine. “Yeah, I heard you.”
My eyes close and I inhale heavily. “I meant, calling your name. Asking you to wait.”
“Sounded more like an order than an ask.”
“I’m sorry. What I said was . . .rude.”
She arches a pretty eyebrow at me. “As opposed to all the polite stuff you’ve said since I got here?”
She’s got a point.
I consider my next words carefully. “I was?—”
“It’s fine,” she interrupts with a wave of her hand. “You didn’t know I was standing there. I walked up so you wouldn’t have to come get me on that ATV thing. I’d already told Isaac I didn’t want to intrude on your family dinner.”
Hearing her say my brother’s name with familiarity makes my stomach tense. “You’re not intruding. I’m just. . . ”
She waits. I can see the ripples of restraint on her beautiful face as she barely contains the urge to call me a dick.
“Unprepared for company,” I say, hoping that’s explanation enough.
It’s not.
“And what does it take for you to be prepared?”
A cold shower, jerking my dick until it can’t move so it won’t stand at attention every time you breathe near me.
“Probably an etiquette class,” I tell her. “Occupational hazard of spending all my time with livestock. I forget how to function around beautiful women.”
There. Maybe the compliment will help.
She lets out a small laugh. “Whatever you say, rancher. It’s really no big deal. I stopped at a diner in town on my way here. I’ll grab some dinner there.”
With that, she lowers herself into her driver’s seat.
I glance back at the house, and my mother points her spoon at me through the window.
Fuck it. I jog around the front of the car and climb into the passenger seat.
Damn, it’s cramped in this car. To be so expensive, you think there’d be more legroom.
She gapes at me while cranking the engine. “What are you doing?”
