Page 21 of Tempting Wyatt

Isaac gapes at me. “He’s making youworktomorrow? Aren’t you here on vacation?”

He turns to Wyatt, but I interrupt. “I asked him to let me tag along tomorrow. I’m curious about the day-to-day on a ranch this size. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Blackmailed me into it, is more like it,” Wyatt mumbles under his breath.

Laurel claps her hands. “I think that’s a fantastic idea. I was thinking of telling Wyatt to give you a tour of the property. So, that’s perfect.”

Wyatt’s brow is furrowed, as if he doesn’t think it’s perfect at all. I’m tempted to reach over and smooth it for him.

I’m considering it just as Laurel asks if I want to say grace.

My stomach clenches. I haven’t ever actually said grace, only heard people say it on set and on television.

I panic because what if I say the wrong thing? Then I sigh—because of course I will. It’s what I do.

“I’d love to,” I tell her because it seems like the only acceptable response.

We bow our heads, and I’m startled when Wyatt takes my left hand and Willow takes my right one.

Inhaling sharply, I do my best to remember how this goes.

“Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for this day, for this meal, and for this precious family.” I pause, unsure of my next words. But I’m a writer, so I can’t help myself. I improvise. “Thank you for our many blessings. Thank you for leading me to this wonderful family and the perfect cabin in the woods, where there’s pie and no murderers. Amen.”

Willow and Isaac laugh out loud. Even Wyatt lets out a light snort that could almost be a chuckle.

The resounding, “Amen,” shared around the table seems to be the cue to dig into the food, so I do.

It’s delicious. The spaghetti is perfection, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think Laurel was Italian. The sauce has to be made from garden-ripened tomatoes and fresh basil and oregano. The explosion of flavor in my mouth is surprising. It’s the best I’ve ever had. I tell her so, and she smiles at me with twinkling eyes.

“Actually,” Isaac says over the clatter of forks on plates, “our brother Asher could totally be a murderer.”

My eyes go wide, and he grins wickedly back at me.

“Nice, Isaac,” Wyatt mutters from beside me.

Isaac lifts his hands. “What? You know I’m right. I think he’s, like, a sniper or something. Not sure. But his location is always highly classified, and he won’t tell us anything about what he does.”

With a sigh, Willow turns to me with an eye roll. “Asher is a Navy SEAL. Not a murderer.”

The youngest sister, Sutton, has light features, like Isaac. She picks at a piece of garlic bread and huffs out a laugh. “Jeez, Isaac. Wayto scare her off.”

Willow turns her attention from me back to Isaac. “Speaking of, have you heard anything from Asher lately?”

Isaac updates everyone on Asher, telling them what was in the last letter he received a few weeks ago. Apparently, he still can’t tell them exactly where he is, but he sends letters when he can, and they send care packages through the Red Cross.

“If you want to add anything to the next package,” Isaac informs his siblings, “I’m sending one at the end of this week.”

I can’t imagine what life must be like for Asher. I’m sure he misses everyone here. “Does he like to read?”

Isaac looks thoughtful. “I think I saw him pack some murder mystery–type books last time he left.”

Willow nods. “Harlan Coben probably. Maybe some Stephen King.”

“Can you send electronic devices? I have an extra Kindle I bought, but never opened because I’m old-fashioned and I prefer paperbacks.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Isaac says. “The only thing we’re not supposed to send is perishable food.”

Wyatt regards me strangely, but I don’t have time to ask what’s up with the look on his face before Sutton starts peppering me with questions about living in California.