Page 19 of Tempting Wyatt (Triple Creek Ranch #1)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ivy

THE THING I LOVE MOST about this ranch?

Well, besides a certain rugged rancher who confounds me hourly.

The oddly organized chaos.

Dust kicks up in thick clouds around the holding pen, the air filled with the low, steady grumble of cattle and the sharp whistle of men directing them into the chute.

A lanky young guy in a ball cap and dusty jeans moves like he’s done this a thousand times.

Willow stands beside him, administering shots, checking ear tags, and dodging the occasional impatient hoof, all without missing a beat.

I lean against the fence, watching with a mix of fascination and horror.

Because cattle? They’re big. And they do not look thrilled about this whole situation.

Antonio casually mentioned that this used to be a big community event—that everyone came out to watch the cattle get vaccinated, tagged, and branded.

A local band would play, and there’d be food.

But since the Logan family patriarch had passed, tension ran high and money ran low for such things.

Plus, he’d added that with so many of the neighboring ranches going under or selling out, it hadn’t felt like a good time to celebrate.

I’d been surprised the man had spoken so openly to me, but I’d enjoyed talking with him. He looked like the dad I’d always dreamed would show up someday and whisk me away from my lonely childhood.

“You should see the look on your face,” a deep voice drawls beside me.

I turn to find myself face-to-face with Isaac.

He and Wyatt have similar rugged features and equally broad frames.

But where Wyatt is quiet, dark, brooding intensity, Isaac is fair-haired, bright-eyed, and pure trouble.

He’s grinning like he has a secret, arms folded over his chest, like he’s waiting for me to say something he can tease me about later.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.

He lifts a brow. “You look like you’re questioning every life decision that led you to standing next to a bunch of cattle getting poked and prodded.”

Okay, that’s an accurate assessment.

I shift my stance, toeing at the dirt with the tip of my boot. “I wouldn’t say every life decision. Just some recent ones.”

Isaac chuckles, leaning a little closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, city girl. You’ll get used to it.”

“Doubt it. I don’t have that much time left here.”

A strange pang of sadness strikes me in the chest.

Then, with a glance toward the barn, Isaac makes an offer that surprises me. “How about that driving lesson? So you don’t have to be at the mercy of Wyatt’s schedule? For the time you do have left here at least.”

He jerks his head toward the go-cart-looking vehicle with a roll cage.

My gaze flicks back toward the holding pen. Wyatt is on his phone beside the barn and hasn’t looked at me once, but I’m undeniably aware of his presence.

Maybe it’s ridiculous, or maybe it’s just been so long since I could joke around with someone without them either throwing a tantrum or scolding me for being childish, but I get a contact high from riling Wyatt Logan up a little.

It’s so wrong. He works hard, and I’m sure the last thing he wants at the end of a long day is me teasing him for fun. But giving this man a hard time—pushing his buttons until he looks like he can’t decide if he’d rather kiss me or kill me—makes me feel more alive than I have in years.

I see him. I see the way he forces himself to stay in work mode, keeping his head down, fighting whatever demons won’t let him rest. I don’t want to stress him out more than he already is. I don’t really want to piss him off.

But testing his patience until he either snaps or laughs? Pushing him to show some of the emotion he keeps locked up tight around everyone else?

Yeah, that turns me way on.

I’m sick. I need help. My therapist would probably have a field day with my daddy issues—or whatever this is.

And I don’t even care.

I don’t want the cure to my addiction to getting a reaction from this man. I just want to feed it. Nonstop.

I’m contemplating how irritated he’ll be if I go drive the side-by-side with Isaac without telling him first. I hesitate, glancing back toward the cattle once more.

Wyatt’s closer to the barn now, arm braced on the fence, still on his phone, while watching Willow and the other vet work with that steady, assessing gaze of his.

“You could wait for Wyatt to teach you,” Isaac adds, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, “but he’d probably lecture you for twenty minutes first about not wrecking it. And make you drive super slow on only flat terrain. With a helmet.”

That gets my attention. Because he’s right; Wyatt would do that. And as much as I like spending time with him, I also like the idea of proving to him that I’m not just some helpless Hollywood princess who needs her hand held every step of the way.

“Fine,” I say, already moving toward Isaac. “But if I crash it, I’m telling everyone it was your idea.”

Isaac laughs. “Fair enough.”

When we reach the mud-splattered side-by-side, I toss Isaac a doubtful look. “So, it’s mostly like driving a car, right?”

Isaac—looking every bit like a television-worthy cowboy—leans casually against the roll cage. “Well, yeah. But only if you know what you’re doin’, darlin’,” he drawls.

I roll my eyes. “Just because I’m from the city doesn’t mean I can’t drive.”

“Sure, sure,” he says, drawing out the word in a way that makes me want to wipe the smirk off his face. “But this ain’t a Prius, sweetheart. It’s got a little more kick to it.”

I bristle, planting my hands on my hips. “Hand over the keys then, cowboy. Let’s see if little ol’ me can figure it out.”

He lets out a low chuckle. “Hold your horses. First, you’re gettin’ a crash course—without the crash part, if we’re lucky.”

“Fine,” I mutter, climbing into the driver’s seat.

The bucket seat feels oddly comfortable, and the steering wheel is reassuringly sturdy. I can do this.

Isaac slides into the passenger seat, his long legs crowding the space as he reaches over to point at the dashboard. His arm brushes mine, and I pretend not to notice. It was probably an accident anyway.

“All right,” he begins, all business now, “first off, controls are a little touchy, so don’t go stomping on it like you’re trying to kill a spider.”

“Got it. No stomping.”

His grin widens. “Now, this lever here’s for four-wheel drive. You probably won’t need it unless we hit some rough patches, but I’ll let you know. And this button—”

“Let me guess,” I interrupt. “It’s the eject button for annoying mansplaining passengers?”

He chuckles again. “Not quite. That’s the differential lock. Don’t worry about it for now. Just focus on keeping us upright and out of ditches.”

“Upright and out of ditches. Check.” I grip the wheel, feeling a spark of excitement.

“Good. Now start her up by turning the key to the on position then release it when the engine catches.” He leans back, looking fully confident in my abilities.

I do as he says and the engine roars to life louder than I expect it to. Vibrations buzz through the seat, and I grin.

“All right, city girl,” Isaac says, tipping his hat back, “let’s see what you’ve got. Take her slow to start.”

I press the gas pedal gently, and the vehicle lurches forward. Not too bad. The trail ahead is wide and mostly flat, bordered by trees and fields that stretch endlessly in every direction. I can handle this. As long as I don’t hit a tree.

I glance over at Isaac. “I told you I could drive.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says with a glint of approval in his eyes. “Just wait till we hit the turns.”

As if conjured by his words, the first turn comes up quickly and I feel the machine lean as I take it a little too sharply. Isaac’s hand shoots out, gripping the roll bar.

“Easy there, Speed Racer,” he jokes. “There’s no trophy at the end.”

“Relax. I’ve got this,” I say over the roar of the engine, even though my heart is pounding.

He was right; this is fun.

It’s different than riding with Wyatt, less intimate.

Less tense. It strikes me that this is the difference between the two brothers.

Wyatt’s intensity level is permanently on max, whereas Isaac is just having a good time.

Part of me is jealous on Wyatt’s behalf—that he has so much on him that he can’t find time to enjoy life.

I decide in addition to aggravating my handsome uptight rancher, I’m going to make sure he has a little fun occasionally.

Isaac raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything when I take another turn a little faster than I probably should. He remains quiet, letting me navigate the next few bends in the trail. I start to get the hang of it, easing into the turns and finding a rhythm.

“Not bad,” he offers as we hit a stretch of bumpy terrain. “Now, give it a little more gas. Let’s see how she handles.”

I press down on the pedal, and we surge forward, bouncing over the uneven ground. Laughter bubbles out of me suddenly as the wind whips through my hair.

“That’s more like it,” Isaac shouts over the engine noise.

The trail narrows, and trees loom closer on either side. I grip the wheel tighter, my nerves returning.

“Just keep your eyes on where you want to go,” he instructs, his voice calm now. “The machine will follow.”

“Kind of like a horse,” I suggest.

He grins. “Kind of.”

I focus on the path ahead. The trees blur past. I embrace the adrenaline rush as I steer us through the twists and turns. By the time we reach an open field where he tells me to pull over, I’m feeling pretty proud of myself.

“How’d I do?” I ask, slowing to a stop and turning to face him.

Isaac tilts his head, pretending to think. “Well, you didn’t flip us, and I’m still in one piece. I’d say you did all right.”

“Just all right?” I press. “Come on. Admit it. I crushed it.”