Page 20 of Tempting Wyatt (Triple Creek Ranch #1)

“Sure you did, darlin’,” he says, his smirk infuriatingly charming. “Pretty good for your first time, I guess.” He nods down at my boots. “Must’ve been those new kicks you picked up somewhere, even though I don’t think I’ve seen you leave the ranch.”

I meet his inquisitive stare, but say nothing, unsure of how Wyatt would feel about me telling his brother he bought me expensive boots.

A blast from the walkie-talkie thing he’s got strapped to his belt startles us both, saving me from an explanation I wasn’t prepared to give.

“Isaac, what’s your twenty?”

The voice sounds like the ranch foreman, Antonio.

Isaac tells him where we are and says something about checking damage to the fence line out this way. The response is delayed, leaving Isaac and me sitting on the roadside, awkwardly staring at each other while we wait.

“Thanks for the lesson,” I say, breaking the silence.

“Anytime,” he replies, tipping his hat. “And don’t think this means you’re off the hook. Next time, I’m taking you through the mud.”

I groan, but a part of me is looking forward to it. I’ve never had siblings, but Isaac is the kind of brother I wish I’d had. Fun, carefree, willing to teach me to drive and risk his life in the process.

Before either of says anything else, Isaac turns to an approaching black truck with the ranch’s brand in faded copper on the side as it pulls up near us.

I smile when Wyatt exits the truck and approaches, eager to tell him how well I drove the side-by-side all the way out here.

But he never even looks at me.

He focuses on Antonio, who rode out here with him and Isaac, who points to an area of the fence. One post is bent, and they agree a bull could’ve rammed it. But then Wyatt says something I barely hear about tool marks.

The three men engage in shop talk, leaving me to myself.

I make a mental note of the scenery, cataloging it all in my writer brain.

When Wyatt turns to leave, he barks out an order on his own walkie-talkie about ranch hands coming out here to fix the fence line.

I expect him to greet me, to tease me about not flipping the side-by-side my first time, but he never makes eye contact.

Passes right by me without so much as a glance in my direction and climbs back into his truck.

Antonio offers me an apologetic grin with a tip of his hat, and then they’re gone, truck tires kicking up dust in their wake.

I stand there, frowning, unsure as to why he ignored me and why I’m so hurt over it.

Isaac nods to the side-by-side. “You driving us back?”

Wyatt Logan ignoring me murdered my good mood.

“Nah. I’ll stick to passenger princess for this one.”

IT’S GROWING DARK when we park the vehicle in the barn closest to the cabins.

It’s walking distance, but due to the lack of light, Isaac drives me back in his truck.

Much like Wyatt, he opens my door and helps me out.

But unlike Wyatt, he surprises me by jumping into the truck bed like a skilled gymnast. I watch as he retrieves an amber-colored bottle of beer from a cooler that looks like a toolbox.

“Want one?”

I shake my head. “I’m good. Thanks though.”

Together, we make our way to the porch. It’s probably ninety-five in LA today, but I don’t know if it made it to seventy degrees here.

I shiver, and he curses softly under his breath. Without a word, he grabs a sturdy brown jacket from the cab of his truck. Before I have time to protest, he wraps it around me.

It’s heavy and warm, and it holds traces of bonfire and sharp, masculine cologne.

Isaac takes a seat on the porch swing. He takes off his cowboy hat, setting it next to him and running a hand through his messy sandy-blond hair.

I lower myself beside him.

He clears his throat, then takes a long drink of his beer. “I haven’t had a chance to ask how you’re enjoying Montana so far.”

“It’s beautiful here,” I say, looking toward the mountains in the distance. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Looks like fall is nearly here. Seems early to be this cool out, but it’s nice.”

“Not missing the palm trees?”

I laugh lightly. “Not really. Wouldn’t mind a little more sunshine though.”

He nods. Takes another swallow of his beer. “Be glad you didn’t schedule your visit in winter. We’re usually snowed in completely on Christmas.”

Snowed in or not, Christmas would be beautiful here. I can already see it in my mind. The snow, the lights. Exactly like the Hallmark-movie holidays I imagined while growing up in half-furnished apartments while heating up my microwave dinners. Usually alone.

A sense of longing I haven’t felt since I was a kid strikes me deep in the chest like lightning. Swallowing becomes a struggle.

Christmas is undoubtedly amazing here. But I won’t be here to see it.

Unless I come back.

I try to imagine how awkward that would be or if I could just pull off being a regular who rents this cabin during the holidays. But that would lead to questions I don’t want to answer about why I’m not with my own family.

When I see that he’s expecting a response, I just shrug. “I can’t imagine it’s too bad. I’ve never really seen much snow, except on a skiing trip once a few years ago.”

Issac’s brow furrows. “It’s pretty rough. We’re lucky to have the equipment to handle it, but it’s not for amateurs. No offense,” he finishes with a wink.

“None taken.”

“Have you had any actual fun yet on your vacation? There’s not a ton to do here, but The Stillery and The Wild Coyote can be a good time on the right night. The Stillery is more of a local crowd. Wild Coyote draws all the tourists. Has a mechanical bull and everything.”

I shrug. “It’s not really a vacation, honestly. I’m behind on a work deadline.”

“Deadline?”

“Yeah. I’m a writer.”

“Anything I might’ve read?”

I never know how to answer this. Isaac misinterprets the apprehension on my face.

“You think I’m illiterate because I’m a cowboy? And here I was, telling myself you weren’t some snobby city girl after all.”

I shake my head and grin at his teasing. “That’s not it at all.”

Discussing my work with someone face-to-face is like being stripped naked and put on display. At gunpoint. On live television.

“I write screenplays, not books,” I tell him. “Scripts for television show series. No actual movie deals yet, but I had a show on several streaming networks last year. Random Hearts.”

I don’t mention Captive because that’s up in the air now, thanks to Malcolm. Or thanks to me leaving town and ignoring his calls.

Isaac’s forehead crinkles. “Don’t think I caught that one. But I’m an action-movie kind of guy.”

“I understand. I’ll try not to take it personally.”

“You did great today, by the way,” he offers. “I’ll keep a side-by-side parked in the barn just over there, and the keys will be on the hook by the door. That way, you can get back and forth to the house when you need to instead of waiting on me or Wyatt.”

Wyatt.

The mention of his name reminds me of the way his mood changed between earlier today and this evening.

He was almost smiling today. Then he rode up to check the damage to the fence, radioed some ranch hands, took one look at me standing beside his brother, and practically snarled. Then he tore out of there like he had somewhere more important to be.

He didn’t say a single word to me.

It’s bothering me more than it should. Maybe he was just busy.

Or maybe I’d done something to make him mad.

“Speaking of Wyatt,” I begin quietly, “did he seem upset to you today?”

Isaac shrugs. “He seemed like Wyatt. He’s pretty much half pissed off all the time. Why?”

I look away so he won’t see how much I care about upsetting his brother. Too much.

“I don’t know. He just seemed agitated. More so than usual.”

Isaac pulls in a slow, deep breath. “The pasture we were at, it’s where our dad died.

Wyatt is the one who found him. He doesn’t go out there if he can help it.

” He rolls his eyes upward and leans back on the swing, rocking us gently.

“But honestly, who knows with him? Might’ve been annoyed I gave you a driving lesson or used the side-by-side for non-ranching duties without permission.

Might’ve been mad about the fence or pissy that it was me instead of him teaching you to drive.

” He sighs heavily. “Might’ve brought up some old bullshit because of Nina. ”

“Nina?”

Isaac massages his neck with one hand, and I see regret all over him.

“Who’s Nina?”

His jaw clenches, the muscle flexing beneath his skin. “Long story.”

My stomach twists with inexplicable anxiety. “I have time.”

He smirks over at me, then finishes his beer. It takes an eternity for him to set the bottle down. I don’t know why I’m so impatient to hear about this Nina, but I am.

“A little over a year ago, we were struggling. A lot. Less than we are now though, I suppose.”

His eyes meet mine, and I can tell he’s choosing his words carefully.

“Dad was working us all like crazy and himself way too hard.”

He rubs his neck again. I’m on the edge of my seat when he continues.

“Winter came early the previous year and lasted far too long. We lost some of the herd.” He pauses and squints toward the horizon while remembering.

“Caleb met this woman in town. Nina Berkowitz.” He says her name like it causes a foul taste in his mouth.

“She was a documentary producer or some shit. Convinced him to sign off on letting her film us, pitched it as an eye-opening look at our way of life.” He makes an ugly sneering sound.

“It was bullshit, of course. Too good to be true.”

I don’t interrupt, but I know the type.

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.”