Ava
When? The question is dying to leave my lips, but I don’t let it happen. He’ll talk to Wyatt when he’s ready. I just wish he was ready NOW. Sneaking around feels wrong, and I don’t like it.
A tiny voice in my head (which sounds a lot like Aunt Kat) tells me that I should share those thoughts with Luke, but I don’t want to make him more anxious about all of this.
Maybe I can find a way for the two of them to end up alone, and then Luke will finally decide to tell Wyatt about us. Is there a corn maze around here for them to get lost in? I don’t remember seeing one…
At some point while we’re walking, Luke slips his arm out of my grasp and gives me an apologetic look. “The apple-bobbing booth is right there. I can see Wyatt.”
I cross my arms to keep myself from reaching for him anyway. “Right. Of course.”
“I know this sucks,” he says with a sigh, “acting like we’re not interested in each other? But I appreciate you going along with it until I talk to Wyatt.”
If he ever talks to Wyatt about it.
We might find life on other planets first.
I try to think of a reply—because I’m at a loss for words—but then Wyatt shouts our names before waving us over. Grateful for the escape, I wave back and stride ahead in that direction with Luke following behind me.
“How’s it going?” I ask once we’re near the booth. “Who got the most apples?”
“Uncle Wyatt did.” Carter’s answer is muffled as Maren finishes drying his face with a towel. “But only because his mouth is bigger than mine!”
I can almost hear Trista using that comment as an opportunity to insult Wyatt.
“It was pretty close,” Wyatt drawls, using a different towel to dry his own face and the damp ends of his hair. “I only had two more apples than him. He did good.”
Luke gives Carter a fist-bump. “Heck yes, buddy.”
“It was fun, but water kept going into my nose,” Carter says with a frown. “I liked tug-of-war better.”
“He liked tug-of-war too much,” Maren adds, tossing both towels into a basket full of other used towels. “I didn’t think I’d ever get him out of those gross pumpkin guts.”
“Trissy didn’t like the tug-of-war.” Carter rubs his nose. “She didn’t like the pumpkin guts either.”
Wyatt rolls his eyes before pretending to cough. “Killjoy.”
“No name-calling,” Maren scolds him, “it’s not nice.”
“You’re so right. Mare.” Wyatt flashes her one of his lazy grins. “So, who’s ready for the hayride?”
A few minutes later, the five of us are sitting on bales of hay while the tractor pulls everyone in the cart at a leisurely pace. I should also mention that I’m sitting in between Wyatt and Luke.
I’d love to say it’s not awkward, but that would be a lie. It’s awkward.
It’s MORE awkward though when Wyatt stretches his arm out behind me. He didn’t do a weird, fake yawn though. And he’s not touching me at all, so it’s obvious he doesn’t have some kind of hidden agenda. However, Luke’s body becomes rigid anyway.
I almost lace my fingers through his as an act of reassurance; but since we’re supposed to be keeping “us” low-key, I settle for bumping my shoulder against his with a soft smile.
He smiles back, but there’s no missing the way his jaw twitches.
Is it terrible that I find the reaction extremely hot?
“So, has the on-site visit been good for you guys?” Wyatt asks, turning slightly to look at both of us. “I know Luke was worried about disasters happening.”
I wait a second or two, just in case Luke wants to answer him, but it doesn’t seem like he’s planning to offer a response.
“There’s been a few little bumps,” I go ahead and tell Wyatt. “Nothing too major.”