Page 82 of Tempting Wyatt

His answer was honest, so I’m honest as well.

“That you were scary as hell, and I hoped I could climb you like a tree and maybe sit on your face at least once before I left.”

My skin nearly bursts into flames. I only had one beer with Isaac. I can’t believe I just said that out loud. Thankfully, Wyatt doesn’t look as horrified as I am by my admission.

“Just once?” The thick lump in his throat bobs as he swallows.

Breathing becomes more difficult by the second. “Or as many times as possible in two weeks.”

We’re already a week into this. The expression on his face tells me he’s doing that math now.

His jaw clenches, and the muscle in his temple flexes visibly. “You ready to get out of here?”

I nod because I was ready the moment I saw him in that doorway. “Should we tell Isaac we’re leaving?”

“He’ll figure it out.”

I bite my lower lip because part of me wants to be alone with Wyatt as soon as possible. But part of me can’t stand the thought of rudely ditching the sweet guy I came here with without letting him know I’ve got a ride back.

My conflicted expression must be answer enough.

Wyatt huffs out a breath but takes me by the hand. “Fine. Let’s find him and tell him I’m taking you home. Quickly.”

Home.The word settles in my chest with the warmth of melted caramel.

We find Isaac near the bar, but there’s a crowd slowing our progress as we make our way to him. When the female bartender sees us, she gives Wyatt a friendly grin before asking if we want anything to drink. They seem familiar with each other. She’s very young and very pretty. Wyatt looks at me, and I nod. I could use something to take the edge off.

“Sure,” Wyatt tells her. Then he turns to me. “What would you like to drink, baby?”

A million butterflies take flight in my stomach at hearing him call me baby. I try not to look as affected as I feel. “Um, an amaretto sour, please.”

He nods and orders my drink and his whiskey.

When he hands it over, I’m pleasantly surprised that it’s sweet but not too sweet and contains two Luxardo cherries, which I love and could eat by the jar. But I’m not that interested in drinking. I want to find Isaac, thank him for bringing me tonight, and tell him goodbye.

Then dead sprint to Wyatt’s truck and drive a million miles an hour back to the ranch.

Wyatt is paying for our drinks, and I’m still scanning the crowd for the quickest path to Isaac when a blonde woman much taller and leaner than me steps in front of us. She’s wearing a low-cut hot-pink halter minidress and a whitecowgirl hat that matches her ankle boots. Her outfit reminds me of a drill team high-stepper from high school.

“Been looking for a real cowboy to ride,” the blonde says. “Looks like I’ve finally found one.”

My stomach tenses, but I sip my drink and pretend to be interested in the pool game beside the bar. Wyatt’s a big boy, if he wants to tell her to kick rocks, he can. And if he doesn’t, then I’ll know what kind of man I’m dealing with.

“Sorry, I’m just a rancher,” Wyatt says evenly. “That over there,” he points to where Isaac is chatting up a redhead nearby, “is a real cowboy.”

She grins slyly up at him, reminding me so much of Heidi. “Cowboy, rancher—they’re all the same.”

“Not really,” Wyatt informs her dryly.

I almost want to give her the speech I got when I assumed they were the same. I half expect him to, but I’m relieved when he doesn’t.

“I might be willing to make an exception for tonight. I’m from out of town and heading back in the morning,” she says, entirely undeterred by his lack of interest and my proximity.

Wyatt clears his throat and takes a long swallow of his whiskey. “What a coincidence. Ivy here is from out of town too,” he tells her. “Maybe you two can chat while I go grab your cowboy.”

With that, he smirks at me and heads toward his brother.

“So where are you from?” the blonde asks.