Page 24 of Tempting Wyatt
“Yeah?”
“Your mom told me about your dad passing. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for your loss. Seems like it was unexpected and there’s a lot on you right now.”
All Laurel said was that her husband had passed six months ago.
His jaw clamps shut, and a muscle near his temple flexes. His whole body goes still.
Then, voice low and measured, he says, “Yeah, it was. Heart attack. In the bull pasture.”
The weight of his words settles heavy on my chest.
Inhaling sharply, I take a step toward him. “I’m also sorry if my being here is making it life harder for you.”
The words leave my lips without thought. Because I am sorry. Because I can feel his grief in the space between us, heavy and heartbreaking.
Knowing everything just fell on him as the oldest son six months ago makes his cold behavior at my arrival much more understandable.
Explains the chair ordeal tonight and the thick air of sadness and grief that lingers even though it’s clear the Logan siblings love each other and their mother very much.
“It’s fine.” He shifts, looking away. And I don’t think. I just reach out, fingertips skimming his jaw, trailing over the rough stubble of his beard.
His eyes meet mine, and for the first time since we met, I see vulnerability there. He’s hurting. But he hides it. For the sake of his mother and his siblings, he keeps it all in, keeps it all together.
My soul recognizes his pain so acutely that I can taste it.I’ve lived most of my life keeping everything in. Hiding how I feel so I don’t upset anyone else.
“You’re doing an amazing job here,” I say softly. “You don’t have to show me around tomorrow if you don’t have time. I can only imagine how difficult managing all the responsibility you’ve been handed has been.”
At the wordresponsibility, his head jerks upward out of my reach. Awareness bordering on anger flashes in his eyes, like he just returned to himself in the middle of this intimate moment with a stranger and doesn’t know how he got here. The connection shatters like glass between us, leaving shards at our feet that we’ll have to navigate like land mines.
“Speaking of responsibility,” he says gruffly, reaching into his back pocket, “I need you to sign this.”
I blink, disoriented at the abrupt turn of events. Taking the folded paper, I scan it quickly. It’s a waiver. A legal document saying I won’t sue them if I get trampled or thrown or—oh, lovely—dismembered on the property.
“Right. Um, I’ll have to grab a pen.”
But when I turn, his hand catches my elbow.
“If I’d known she was renting out the cabins, I would’ve sent it over earlier. Just give it to me in the morning.”
I nod, feeling like an idiot for thinking we were having a moment when all he was thinking about was liability.
“Not a problem,” I say, voice clipped.
“Be ready at five.” His voice is sharper now. Detached. “I have time to show you around but I also have a lot to do tomorrow. If you’re not outside when I get here, I won’t wait.”
And just like that, he turns, climbing back onto the ATV like he can’t get away from me fast enough.
I watch him go, my heart still pounding in my chest, my eyes narrowing at his abrupt retreat.
Oh, Wyatt Logan, what an interesting creature you are.
CHAPTER TEN
wyatt
“TAKE CARE OF THEM, SON. It’s your responsibility.”
In my mind, I heard my dad saying the words over and over as I fought for sleep last night. The phrase he used frequently when I was growing up. Whether it was calves or geldings or my siblings, he taught me to care for them and reminded me often that they were my responsibility.
