Page 14 of Tempting Wyatt (Triple Creek Ranch #1)
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ivy
I’M TOSSED UNCEREMONIOUSLY into the muddy pond water before I can call out in protest. I do get out an elongated, “Wyyy,” while attempting to yell his name, but it comes out like, Why?
I land on my ass in about two feet of mud and muck, and surprisingly, the cool water feels nice.
“That’s for the grumpy asshole comment earlier,” Wyatt informs me as he stands there, smirking down at me.
I nod casually, flinging mud from my hands and attempting to stand. “Fair enough.”
He reaches out a hand, and I take it, allowing him to pull me up even though I’d love to pull him down, if only I weighed enough.
“Other than this most recent act of aggression,” I begin, “you weren’t a grumpy asshole at all today. Didn’t even threaten me with your axe once.”
He grins, the sight so rare that it steals my breath. He has really pretty teeth and is that a dimple in his left cheek? Hard to tell with the beard filling in.
“And you didn’t complain once today,” he says, bringing me flush with his chest.
This close to him, the playful moment evaporates, and tension builds, growing thicker.
“I had fun,” I tell him, struggling for breath as I speak.
“Fun?” A flicker of surprise flashes in his eyes, and then he tilts his head. “And you really want to spend the rest of the week doing this? On your vacation?”
“I do. As long as I won’t be in your way.”
It’s not my vacation. I’m behind on my deadline, and this ranch is the most inspiration I’ve had in months. But I don’t correct him.
He takes a step back, his eyes raking over me like he’s trying to determine my clothing size. “I’ll see If I can rustle you up a shirt.”
WYATT DOESN’T COME TO DINNER.
I can’t help but wonder if it’s because of me—either because of how awkward my presence made dinner last night or because showing me around the ranch ran him behind today.
The steaks are the size of the dinner plates, and everything smells amazing. Laurel informs us that Miss Lottie, the ranch cook, worked all day to make this meal.
I see the older woman standing with Willow at the grill outside, along with the ranch foreman Wyatt introduced me to. I watch through the window as they hand him a large cooking pan full of meat. For the ranch hands, I’m assuming.
When I see Willow hand him several more covered pans, I turn to where Isaac is joining us at the dining table.
“How many people work here?”
He scratches his chin. “Somewhere around twenty. Wyatt would know for certain.”
“And they live on the property?”
Isaac pulls out a chair for me. These Logan men are something else. A girl could get used to this.
“Some of ’em. The hands stay in the bunkhouse.
The foreman has his own cabin not far from the one you’re renting.
Miss Lottie has a cabin beside the cowboy camp but stays with her sister in Livingston on weekends.
” He hands me a plate as Sutton and Laurel join us.
“We employ a horse trainer and a breeding specialist but they live closer to the equestrian center that Willow runs.”
Willow comes inside and sits by me at the table. “How was your day as a hand, Ivy?”
“Good.” I grin. “Tiring. Long. But really good.”
She points a finger at Isaac, who just opened his mouth to say something. “No pervy commentary needed from you.”
Isaac grins. “I was just gonna ask if she was planning to do it again tomorrow.”
I can’t help but smile. “Gonna try. I’m hoping to spend this week getting the lay of the land, as long as Wyatt doesn’t mind.”
“You know,” Willow begins as she cuts half a steak into thin slices and places it atop a bed of field greens, “maybe at the end of the week, you could come to the center I run. See how we train the horses.”
“I’d love that.” I watch her, wishing I’d thought to do the same with my steak. I can’t finish it or even half of the baked potato, though working on the ranch did work up an appetite.
“Will, don’t forget we have to finish those vaccinations this week,” Isaac reminds her.
She nods while chewing her food. “On it.” She pauses, glancing around the table. “Where’s Wyatt tonight? Still working?”
Isaac shrugs. “Didn’t see him anywhere near the barn.”
“If he’s not careful, he’s going to end up like Dad,” Sutton mutters.
Willow’s fork clanks loudly against her plate, and then silence falls like a heavy, wet blanket over the entire table.
Laurel freezes where she stands, holding a bottle of salad dressing. “Excuse me,” she mumbles, setting the bottle on the table before scurrying back toward the kitchen.
Willow glares at Sutton. “Nice, little sister.”
Sutton frowns, looking genuinely confused.
“What? It’s the truth. Everyone told Dad to take it easy, and he didn’t.
And now he’s gone. Nobody seems concerned that Wyatt is acting just like him.
” The pain and fear are audible in her voice as it trembles.
She turns from Willow to Isaac, and it’s like I’m watching live-action theater.
“And when Wyatt drops dead from a heart attack at forty, then what? You take over and do the same, right?”
Her eyes are filled to maximum capacity with unshed tears. If she blinks, a flood is coming.
Willow sighs heavily but says nothing as she pats Sutton’s shoulder gently.
Isaac’s brow furrows. “Come on, Button. You know I’m not going anywhere. And neither is Wyatt.”
Sutton chews her lower lip. “I don’t know why you all do this. I’m the youngest, and I don’t even want this place. Seems ridiculous to keep killing ourselves. For what? Not that anyone ever asks for my opinion.”
I should excuse myself from this private family moment, but it feels rude to interject. I’m trapped in the middle of this awkward exchange that only gets more heated with every word.
Isaac’s playful, comforting demeanor hardens suddenly.
“Who’s killing themselves?” He lowers his voice, probably so Laurel won’t hear from the next room.
“You sleep late, water some horses, make TikTok videos, and go to college classes. No one asks you to do shit on this ranch, and you damn sure don’t offer.
So, don’t get pissy about not having a say in whether or not we sell it. ”
Before Sutton can respond, Willow places a hand in the air between them.
“That’s enough, both of you. Ivy is a guest, you’ve already upset Mom, and the steaks are getting cold.
Wyatt is a big boy, and I’m sure he has a good reason for not being here.
” She waves a hand across the table. “It’s not like he’s here most nights anyway. ”
“Because he’s probably dead in a pasture,” Sutton whispers. “But, yeah, let’s eat.”
With that, her tears fall, and she shoves her chair back before making her escape.
The comment about Wyatt makes my chest feel hollow and raw.
I should’ve tried to find him before I finished up for today.
But I was a muddy mess from my jaunt into the pond so I headed to my cabin to clean up.
I should’ve made him come eat dinner with everyone.
Not that I have that kind of power over him, but it feels like I should have done something.
A moment later, we hear Laurel consoling a crying Sutton in the kitchen.
Isaac rubs his neck with one hand. “I should go apologize.”
Willow tosses me a sympathetic glance. “Sorry. There’s been a lot going on around here lately.”
I nod my understanding. “It’s not my place, but grief counseling might be a good idea.”
Isaac glances toward the kitchen. “Sutton has always been the emotional one in the family. But then, tomorrow, she’ll be back to playing on her phone, acting like everything is fine.”
Willow rubs her temples. “Actually, grief counseling is probably a good idea. Sutton is sensitive, and this has all been tough on her.”
Isaac rolls his eyes. “She’s nineteen. Our parents babied her, so she’s softer than the rest of us.”
“She’s worried about you. And about Wyatt,” I say quietly.
I choose my next words carefully. “Maybe you could all go. Pretty much everyone I know sees a therapist or counselor for one reason or another, and I think it helps. I think it would help Sutton find a safe place to tell you all how she’s feeling without it turning into a—”
“Shit show?” Willow offers.
I shrug. “Sometimes, just having a neutral party present helps stabilize highly emotional situations.”
Willow stares at me intently. “Are you a therapist?”
I laugh, then try to keep my voice light as I answer. “No, just had to spend a lot of time in therapy, dealing with stuff. Abandonment issues. You know, standard childhood trauma.”
“The usual,” Willow jokes.
Isaac grins. “For real though, everyone is fucked up in one way or another. I’m not sure counseling would help this group. We’d probably get kicked out in the first session.”
We’re all quiet for a moment, and then I ask a question I hope doesn’t make me look like a lunatic. “So . . . Wyatt’s probably fine, right?”
Isaac arches a brow in my direction. “Really? You worried about him too?”
Willow breaks in, saving me from answering.
“I’m sure he’s perfectly fine,” she says, glaring at her brother.
“Since our dad passed, he’s had to work a lot of late evenings.
And he doesn’t like to come in here filthy, so if he doesn’t have time to shower, he’ll grab dinner from the bunkhouse and call it a night. ”
Isaac shrugs. “Seemed like he was wrapping up when I called it a day.”
She frowns. “Did he say anything about missing dinner?”
Isaac shows her the palms of his hands. “I’m not his keeper, Will. Damn. He’s a grown-ass man. He must’ve had plans. Hell, maybe he went into town to grab a drink and get laid. Wish that’s what I would’ve done tonight.”
Just like with the comment about Wyatt possibly being dead in a pasture, Isaac’s words pierce my chest unexpectedly.
I don’t know why exactly, but the thought of Wyatt hooking up with someone makes me feel ill.
I barely know the guy. It’s none of my business what he does.
But for some reason, I’m no longer hungry.