Page 47 of Tempting Wyatt

His gaze collides with mine, and I’m hit with the pain in it.

“She offered us all this money; said we’d have final approval before anything aired. Blah, blah. Bunch of lies because none of it was in writing. Pretty early on, it was clear she was just stirring up drama. Creating tension and fabricating knock-down, drag-out fights between Wyatt, Caleb, and me.”

I frown because I’m a little unsure how one woman could manage that.

Isaac arches a brow at my obvious confusion. “Did Iforget to mention she was a smokeshow? Perfect rack and legs for days.”

“I see.” I ignore the tightening in my stomach. Hopefully, it’s hunger and not blind jealousy.

“Sorry,” he offers. “But she was sexy as hell, and we were stupid. Took her at her word. She played us. Pitted us against one another every chance she got.”

“I’m sorry,” I offer. Part of me wants to know more, and the other part wishes I didn’t know this much already.

“Caleb hooked up with her first. I guess I was next. Or maybe Wyatt, then me. I’m not super sure on the timeline.”

He stops suddenly. Probably notices I’ve stiffened.

“The rest is. . . well, just a bunch of mind-fuckery. But let’s just say, once she had her hooks in us, she pulled the strings like we were her puppets. The footage we saw was nothing but ridiculous, manufactured drama. Made us all look greedy and ignorant. Money hungry, which none of us are. Wasn’t anything in there about preserving our way of life or actual ranching.”

He stares up at the roof on the porch. “Because Caleb had signed a bunch of agreements to get the money, Dad had to hire a team of lawyers and pay them a fortune to keep it from going any further. And then we had to pay back the advance her production company had given us on top of that. By the time the court case settled, half the herd had Johne’s disease.”

“Damn,” I say softly. Even though I don’t know what Johne’s disease is. “Some producers are like that. They know drama and negativity tends to sell better.”

So, they go the cheap and tacky route for instant gratification and sensationalism instead of developing an actual story with characters people will care about long-term. Sounds likeMalcolm’s style. He and this Nina woman would get along great.

“Didn’t help that the local ranches we usually lease land to had sold out to developers—cutting the ranch’s income significantly. Basically, we owed a shit ton of money at a time when there was very little money coming in.”

He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. I can see the tension rolling through his body.

“Then our dad died of a heart attack in the bull pasture. Caleb bailed—out of guilt or because he’s a fucking child who can’t own his mistakes. Asher was deployed overseas and barely got to come home for the funeral. Hasn’t been home since.”

Another heavy sigh.

I can’t tell if it’s helping Isaac to get this off his chest or upsetting him to think about it.

“And Wyatt. . . Wyatt’s pretty much just like Dad was. He switched into robot mode. He works nonstop from sunup to sundown and probably long after. But I don’t know if all the work in the world will ever get us out of this mess. Bank is breathing down our necks. Daily.”

The pieces click together in my mind. This is why Laurel is renting the cabin. It’s why Wyatt made such a big deal about me signing the waiver, saying they weren’t liable if I hurt myself somehow while I was here. They can’t afford a possible lawsuit.

The Logans are good people. I hate that they went through this. I want to help, but I’m not sure how I can.

“I’m so sorry, Isaac,” I say, leaning back so we’re still swinging slowly.

He clears his throat and sits up straight. “Anyway, it is what it is. Maybe don’t mention to Wyatt that you work in the movie business, you know?”

I nod because I understand. It’s a sore subject. “I get it. But I won’t lie to him if he asks.”

He stares at me intently. “Just maybe don’t bring it up unless he asks directly. Hopefully, he won’t. Wyatt’s got a grudge since all that happened, and he’s not the greatest at letting shit go.”

With that, he stands. Puts his hat on his head. Retrieves his empty bottle and walks toward his truck. “Need another driving lesson tomorrow?”

I probably do, but I also can’t ignore the thoughts rolling across my mind. I recognize inspiration when it hits, and it’s coming on strong.

“I think I’m going to try and write a little,” I tell him. “Wyatt invited me to the rodeo tomorrow. So, I guess I’m going with you.”

His eyes widen. “Mr. Antisocial invited you to come to Bozeman with us?”

I can’t help but smile—–and feel mildly offended at how shocked he seems by this.