Page 18 of Tempting Wyatt

She tilts her head, regarding me curiously. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly.”

“Anything I want?”

This could go in a dangerous direction. “I’ll beg if necessary.”

I will hand-fucking-feed this woman at the dinner table if that’s what it takes. Now that I’ve been this close to her, I can’t seem to tear myself away.

The thought of her eating alone at the diner because I was an asshole makes my chest ache.

“Tomorrow, will you show me how the ranch works?”

My brows dip inward as I contemplate her unexpected request. “As in, the whole thing?”

She nods.

I smirk. “You want to get dirty, Hollywood?”

Her face breaks into a grin, and it nearly takes my breath away. “So much.”

My cock hears her and taps twice on my jeans to make sure I caught the innuendo.

I got it, buddy. Thanks.

“So, let me get this straight. If I agree to let you work with me tomorrow, show you the ropes, so to speak, you’ll come inside and eat?”

She nods excitedly. How she manages to make childlike excitement seem sexy, I’ll never know. But I’m done questioning it.

“Deal. But no complaining.”

She opens her mouth to argue, and I place a finger over her soft, plump lips.

“You complain, you’re fired from ranch-hand duty. Got it?”

This should be easy. Hollywood here won’t last five minutes. Then she’ll go home, and I can get back to my regularly scheduled life.

She stares at me with laser-like focus until I lower my finger from her lips.

“Want to make a bet?”

“About?”

She chews her lush lower lip thoughtfully. “About how long I’ll make it without complaining.”

I almost laugh out loud. This will be like taking candy from a baby. “Sure. What terms do you have in mind?”

Her inquisitive gaze rakes over my face slowly. Maybe I’m imagining it, but I could swear there’s a mischievous gleam in her eye.

“I make it the entire day without complaining, you spend the rest of the week showing me the ins and outs of the ranch. All of it. The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

“And if you lose? What will you show me?”The running list in my head is inappropriate for polite company.

“I’ll leave,” she says simply. “No refund necessary. If I can’t hack it for one day, doing what you do, I’ll pack up and head back to California. I won’t ever bother you again.”

Somehow, that doesn’t sound like a win for me. Though, yesterday, it was all I wanted.

I weigh the proposed wager carefully.