Page 126 of Tempting Wyatt

And it annoys the shit out of me.

But I’m the one who gets the intense stares and that stormy hazel gaze undressing me in her mind while she tries to figure me out.

I’d never confess it to these two, but every time I see her with Isaac, I’m weighing which one of us could make her happier.The idea of watching the only woman who’s ever made my heart race and my head spin fall in love with my brother is giving me a migraine.

Could Isaac be Ivy’s fated mate? Was she meant to come here and fall in love with my charming cowboy brother so they could ride off into the sunset together?

I try to picture it, but my mind rejects the image instantly.

Over my dead damn body.

Isaac isn’t going to be her happily ever after.

Because I am.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

ivy

THE FIRE CRACKLES, FLICKERING AND throwing golden sparks into the inky night as Willow, Wyatt, Isaac, and myself lounge around the fire pit near the main barn. While I did some baking with Laurel, Willow had gone fishing with her brothers, saying she was going to try and soften the blow for when I was ready to talk to Wyatt.

I couldn’t tell if it worked, but he does seem more relaxed.

A little closer to the cowboy camp, the wranglers and ranch hands appear to be doing the same as us. Isaac pulls out a guitar and strums a little. Of course he plays guitar.

I already feel bad for the poor girl who falls for that smooth operator someday.

Willow passes out marshmallows. Wyatt declines but I take two because when in my life am I going to have a chance to eat s’mores at a campfire with real cowboys?

After Isaac laments the lack of biting fish on their fishing trip today, and Wyatt and I detail my first encounter with Jasper to the soundtrack of Willow’s uncontrollable laughter, a relaxed vibe settles over us.

“That poor sweet donkey,” Willow says on a laugh. “He probably thinks his name is ‘Damn it, Jasper.’”

I nod, giggling softly. “Pretty sure that’s how Wyatt greets him regularly.”

Wyatt smiles and I hope he let himself enjoy fishing with his siblings today.

From across the fire, I watch as he stretches his legs out, boots scuffing against the dirt, a half-empty bottle of beer dangling from his fingers. Those expert fingers I can’t stop thinking about every time I look at him. I breathe in deeply trying to clear my mind. The night smells like charred wood, cool air, and sweet burnt sugar.

Next to me, Isaac sets his guitar beside his chair.

“Now, Ivy,” he drawls, his easy, teasing grin on full display. “Be honest with me. A city girl like you ever met a cowboy as charming as yours truly?”

I pretend to consider this. “I met a rodeo clown once. You two could be cousins.”

Willow snorts into her beer, and Isaac presses a hand to his chest, feigning pain. “Damn, girl. Wounding my pride right here in front of everybody.”

I grin, but out of the corner of my eye, I catch Wyatt’s grip tightening on his bottle.

Either it’s a trick of the light or his muscles ripple with tension beneath his skin.

Isaac tells a dirty joke about a rodeo clown and then nudges my shoulder with his.Then he leans toward the fire suddenly.

“Is that, do you see something in the fire? Like a jacket? Is that my jacket?”

Willow looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “It’s just firewood. There’s no jacket in there.”

Isaac grabs one of the long metalskewers we’ve been using to roast marshmallows and pokes what does look like the sleeve of a sturdy brown jacket.