Page 30 of Tempting Wyatt
Boss.
He always called my father that.
Ivy doesn’t comment, but I feel her watching me. Feel her curiosity simmering.
By the time we finish our food—well, I finish my food and the other half of hers that she couldn’t finish—and put the horses back in the stable, she’s had enough of my silence.
“So, did I pass? Do I get a shirt?”
I glance down at where she’s eyeing the Triple Creek Ranch logo on my chest.
“One day of work, and you’re making demands?”
“I didn’t complain. Not once,” she says proudly.
When I don’t respond, she pushes out her lower lip in a pout. It’s sexier than it should be.
“You’re right,” I say, eyes flicking toward the murky pond. “You’re probably sweaty from all of your hard work today.”
She nods. “Super sweaty. I think I earned a shirt.”
“Hmm.” I pretend to think it over. “Come here.”
She steps closer, wary. “I probably stink.”
“Yeah? Then we should cool you off first.”
Her brows knit. “Wh?—”
Before she can finish, I lift her over my shoulder and take off running.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ivy
I’M TOSSED UNCEREMONIOUSLY into the muddy pond water before I can call out in protest. I do get out an elongated, “Wyyy,” while attempting to yell his name, but it comes out like,Why?
I land on my ass in about two feet of mud and muck, and surprisingly, the cool water feels nice.
“That’s for thegrumpy assholecomment earlier,” Wyatt informs me as he stands there, smirking down at me.
I nod casually, flinging mud from my hands and attempting to stand. “Fair enough.”
He reaches out a hand, and I take it, allowing him to pull me up even though I’d love to pull him down, if only I weighed enough.
“Other than this most recent act of aggression,” I begin, “you weren’t a grumpy asshole at all today. Didn’t even threaten me with your axe once.”
He grins, the sight so rare that it steals my breath.He has really pretty teeth and is that a dimple in his left cheek? Hard to tell with the beard filling in.
“And you didn’t complain once today,” he says, bringing me flush with his chest.
This close to him, the playful moment evaporates, and tension builds, growing thicker.
“I had fun,” I tell him, struggling for breath as I speak.
“Fun?” A flicker of surprise flashes in his eyes, and then he tilts his head. “And you really want to spend the rest of the week doing this? On your vacation?”
“I do. As long as I won’t be in your way.”
