Page 20 of Tempting Wyatt

But Ivy is lying. I can see it in the way she detaches when she says it. Her gaze goes far away. She’s remembering. Whoever he was, he hurt her.

I’d give my black soul straight to the Devil today to take her pain away. She’s so close that I can practically taste her.

I chuckle, low and dark, giving her petite body a full perusal before whispering in her ear, “My guess is, he sucked at that too. Any man who fucks you good, the way you should be fucked, is damn sure opening your doors.”

CHAPTER NINE

ivy

WYATT LOGAN IS GIVING ME WHIPLASH.

“Any man who fucks you good, the way you should be fucked, is damn sure opening your doors.”

I’m still struggling to recover from the encounter as I sit with his family and an entirely too large helping of spaghetti.

As if he didn’t just break my mind with his words, Wyatt casually saunters back and forth between the kitchen and dining room, bringing me a glass of tea, then sets off to make his own plate.

When he returns, the bustling group goes completely silent. He stares at the seat at the head of the table for a moment.

Isaac clears his throat. “It’s your seat now, Wy,” he says evenly.

Wyatt lowers himself into it and appears to shake off any discomfort.

After what Laurel shared with me yesterday about the loss of her husband, an educated guess tells me that I’m in his old chair and the seat at the head of the table was his dad’s. Nowit’s his. All the responsibility for this ranch and this family is his now as well.

Without thinking, I touch his arm and give him a small smile. He meets my eyes with turmoil in his, but his lips lift a little.

It’s a moment. I feel it down to my bone marrow.

When it’s over, everyone is still staring.

“I need to grab the Parmesan,” Wyatt says, standing abruptly and leaving the dining room, coincidentally leaving only me for everyone to stare at. Like an animal on exhibit.

Willow clears her throat from beside me. She sweeps her long, dark hair aside as she turns to face me. “So, you’re from California?”

I nod. “Los Angeles,” I say.

“City of Angels,” Isaac offers with a grin.

I smile at that. “Yeah, not in my experience. More like the opposite.”

“Are you an actress?” Sutton asks. Her hair is the same length as Willow’s, but much lighter.

I shake my head. “Definitely not.”

Before anyone can ask any follow-up questions about what I do for a living, Laurel appears and snaps her fingers at her grown children. “Stop interrogating our guest.”

I’m about to tell her I don’t mind when Wyatt returns.

He sets a mason jar of shaved Parmesan cheese on the table and then glances down at me. “Have everything you need?”

I nod. “More than. Thank you.”

He notices his gawking family then. “What?”

Willow folds her lips inward like she’s containing a laugh. “We’ve just never seen you fix anyone else’s plate before. And, um, Wy, you made her a ranch-hand-sized plate, and she’s, like, miniature, so?—”

“It’s fine,” I say with a laugh. “I’m actually going to be a ranch hand tomorrow, so it’s fitting.”