Page 33 of Fool for You
The conversation was light, sometimes not at all, as the world passed us. When we did talk, it was “I can’t believe you listen to Panic!”from Wyatt, and “I can’t believe you knew every word to every Shania Twain song that played” from me. Talking to Wyatt became easy when I wasn’t worried about him pulling the moves on me. Our conversation began to flow, as if we were the type of friends who didn’t text each other good morning; we just picked back up where we left off. And then when the silence took over, it wasn’t awkward; it was comfortable. Even if his comment from the other night still sang in my head.
I do want to kiss you.
The way he said it made me think he wasn’t saying it to flirt, and the way he was looking at me made me think it was more than just a fling. More than how he would look at the other girls. I would have to remind myself of all the stupid things he had said to me in the past. I had to ignore that small little flutter in my core.
At the next stop, I let Wyatt take over the wheel, but the tunes stayed the same. I pulled a book out to read, and Wyatt still sang along to the music. When he finally asked me what I was reading, I showed him the cover—the latest Matt Haig.
“I’ll have to send that to Abi. Is it good?” he asked, returning his attention to the road.
“It’s wonderful. Cash mentioned that Abi likes to read. He said they are on bookshelf number two.” I chuckle, returning to the book.
“Mainly fantasy…romance…books.” Wyatt furrowed his brow.
“Does one have a dragon on it?” I groaned. I was up for a good fantasy novel, mainly fairytale retellings, but I wasn’t jumping on the dragon rider train quite yet. I’d wait for the buzz to die down.
He twisted his lips. “Not that I know of? But I don’t pay much attention.”
“Well,” I shifted in my seat, my eyes going right back to the words on the page, “maybe someday.”
“You guys should start a book club when we get back. Abi would be thrilled.”
We grew silent again, Wyatt lowering the music as I read, and at the next stop, he pulled both horses from the trailer to let them rest their legs. They walked and stretched, each staying close to Wyatt as they moved. Hook tugged on the lip of his baseball hat while Charming pulled at the leaves on the few trees that were around, but when their time was up, they both went back into the trailer without complaint, and then Wyatt drove the rest of the way to Flagstaff.
We arrived at the stables ahead of schedule, and we both took the horses to their stalls for the night, giving them the prince treatment for putting up with the long drive. Once they were settled, we took the short journey to the hotel. After checkingin, Wyatt grabbed his bag, and I started to open the garment bags to find the right outfit for tomorrow, the right hat, the right boots, stopping only when Wyatt appeared from behind me. He grabbed a luggage cart and began stacking all my things—and I meanallmy things, leaving the back seat of my truck completely empty before he rolled it to the elevator for me. I followed, not exactly sure what to say to him, catering to me. So…once we were in the elevator, I settled for the simplest thing.
“Thanks.” I leaned against the elevator wall as the door closed.
Wyatt gave me a smile.
“You really only brought the one duffel?” I asked, raising my head, looking at all my bags in the cart on top of his single bag.
“Three jeans, seven t-shirts, seven button-downs, socks, underwear, toothbrush, and all that jazz, one pair of boots—”
“Hat?” I raised a brow.
“When have you seen me in a cowboy hat?”
“When you announce.”
“Well, yeah, it’s part of the uniform, but even working in the stables, I’m wearing this.” He pointed to his baseball cap. It had the Hartwell logo on it, and the sides were distressed, but in a way that you could tell he’s worn it for years, not purchased that way. “I’m not big on cowboy hats.”
“Why not? They look good on basically anyone.”
“True. I wear them when I have to, but since I’m here to help you—baseball cap.”
I shook my head at him. “We’ll fix that.”
The elevator door opened, and Wyatt waited until I was in the hall before he pushed the cart through. Our rooms were a few doors down from each other, but he helped me unload the cart—forcing me to stay inside while he returned the cart to the lobby. I didn’t protest as he pushed the cart out of the room. It had been a long time since I had been taken care of like this; not even Cashwas this generous when he traveled with me last year. I watched him disappear back into the elevator before shutting the door and locking all the locks, then looked at every garment bag, every hat and boot box, and my suitcases, a smile spreading across my lips—all brought on by Wyatt Hartwell.
I knocked on Wyatt’s hotel room door shortly after eleven the next morning. We had time before we had to go to the arena for registration, and the man needed a hat. He opened the door with a smile. Dressed comfortably in a gray tee and jeans, his hair wet and messy, most likely from a shower, he looked refreshed even after the long day of travel we had just had.
“Here to ask me out to lunch, Compton?” His smile turned into a smirk as he leaned against the door frame, his arm stretching over his head.
I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Nope…right. Sorry.” He shifted and raised a finger as he chastised himself for flirting. “Habit. Hi, Quinn.”
“Get your shoes on, Hartwell.” I lowered my arms and spun on my heel. “We’re going to get you a hat.” I waved my hand in the air in afollow megesture as I began to walk down the hall.
