Page 23 of Tempting Wyatt (Triple Creek Ranch #1)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ivy
WHEN WE GET BACK to the ranch, Antonio drops Isaac and me at the main house. Isaac doesn’t offer to let me drive the side-by-side as we climb inside and I don’t ask.
He hasn’t said much about Wyatt’s abrupt exit, just that he’d cool off eventually. Caleb had been friendly but solemn afterward. We’d wisely skipped the fair.
By the time Isaac delivers me to my cabin, I’m beginning to wonder if Wyatt Logan is allergic to fun. He appears to avoid it at all costs.
I tell Isaac good night and remain on the porch enjoying the fresh air and night sky. After Isaac drops off the side-by-side, I notice that the light remains on in the barn.
It’s chilly enough that I pull my light jacket tighter around me, but I can’t resist checking to see if my grumpy rancher is in the barn.
He isn’t. But out of the corner of my eye, I catch the shadow of him by the stables.
Without taking time to talk myself out of what is likely to be an unpleasant interaction, I stride that direction with no clue what I’m going to say. The odd urge to apologize irritates me. I don’t have anything to be sorry for. But knowing Wyatt is upset is bothering me more than it should.
I barely know the man so I’m not sure why I care.
But I do.
The stables smell like horses, hay, and leather—earthy and familiar, grounding in a way I can’t understand since I don’t spend a lot—or any—amount of time around horses. A hoof scrapes against the dirt floor, the rhythmic sound echoing through the quiet space, announcing my arrival.
Even the horses seem to sense Wyatt’s dark mood. That tight pull in the air, thick and unsettled, has them as restless as I feel, all of us somehow affected by his anger simmering beneath the surface.
His back is to me, broad and stiff, muscles moving as he dismantles something I can’t see on a workbench. Frustration rolls off him in waves so strong that they push at me like a warning.
I ignore it.
Leaning against the doorway, I watch as he yanks the cinch on what appears to be a saddle, his movements sharp and punishing.
“You were pretty hard on your brother,” I say, my voice cutting through the stillness.
The memory of the tense encounter makes my stomach twist. It was brutal to watch.
The pain ricocheting between them, shrapnel hitting everyone in spitting distance.
Wyatt stills for half a second before resuming his work. “Not as hard as a bull stomping his skull or snapping his spine in half would be.”
I move closer. “True. But he’s a grown man. He knows the risks. According to the scoreboard, he did really well. You didn’t even congratulate him.”
A sharp, humorless snort escapes him as dark eyes pin me where I stand. “Right. My bad. Guess I should’ve told him great job not dying today. I’ll send him a text later.”
His breathing is heavy, filling the space between us like a storm rolling in. He moves to the tack area, shoving a saddle into place with too much force.
“I know it’s not my place,” I start, softer now, “but he’s your brother. I get being scared for him. I was worried, and I hadn’t even met him yet. But maybe try being happy for him too. I could tell he wanted to make you proud.”
Wyatt’s silence is suffocating.
Watching Caleb looking so proud to hand his brother that prize money—only for Wyatt to turn his back on him—was like watching something splinter apart right in front of me.
“You’re right,” he says finally. “It’s not your place.”
Okay then. He’s still pissed.
I should let it go. I should turn around and walk right back to my cabin.
But I don’t.
Because I know he’s hurting. And for some reason, I can’t bring myself to walk away from that.
I take another step closer. “Maybe it’s not, but I’m saying it anyway. Even an outsider like me can see that your brother is doing this to prove something to you. He looks up to you, Wyatt. It was written all over him.”
He doesn’t move at first. Then, slowly and deliberately, he takes a step toward me, the muscles in his jaw flexing visibly.
“He didn’t tell us he was riding bulls. But that’s how he’s always been.
We find out when it’s too late and there’s a mess to clean up.
” His voice is clipped, the words bitten off like they taste bad.
“He’s gonna get himself killed, doing dumb, dangerous shit, instead of putting in an honest day’s work. ”
I exhale, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I get it. But he’s still your brother. Don’t you think it’s worth—”
“No. I don’t.”
He comes so close I almost take a step back.
Almost.
His glare heats my skin as the fight or flight response kicks in.
His eyes are darker than usual without the sun lighting them.
Shadowed beneath the brim of his worn navy trucker hat.
And for the first time since I met him, I see the kind of anger that cuts.
Not the quick, surface-level kind. The deep, old kind.
The kind that’s lived inside him for so long that it probably fills the cracks in his bones.
“Maybe mind your own business on this one, Hollywood.” His voice is low, deliberate.
“You don’t have a damn clue what I go through just to keep the lights on.
Instead of pulling his weight, he’s out there risking his life.
Guess who will foot the bill if he lands himself in the hospital.
What Caleb is doing isn’t just reckless.
It’s selfish. And I don’t remember asking for your opinion. ”
His words hit like a slap.
My throat constricts but I keep my chin up.
“Thought you might want to talk about it,” I say, quieter now.
“I don’t.” He lets out a bitter sounding laugh, sharp and hollow. “You’ve been here, what, a few days? What the hell do you know about any of it?”
That comment doesn’t sting.
It burns. Deep, like a brand.
Because he’s right.
I’ve only been here a handful of days, and I don’t know much about any of it—ranching or family.
Maybe that’s why I’m taking this so personally.
My whole life, I’ve wished for a sibling. Wyatt has five of them and is so closed off that he might as well be an only child.
I open my mouth to argue but come up empty.
Maybe I am overstepping. Maybe I shouldn’t care this much.
“You’re right. I don’t know much about ranching or about family,” I admit, my throat tight. “This is my first real experience on a ranch, and I don’t have a family to speak of. But you do, so maybe turn off the robot rancher version of yourself and act like you give a shit about them occasionally.”
His whole body locks up before my eyes. “Everything I fucking do is for them,” he grits out.
“Maybe tell them that once in a while,” I throw back.
“Yeah? And who made you the expert?”
“No one.” I swallow hard. “You don’t want to tell Caleb you’re proud of him, but you’re also scared to damn death he’ll get hurt or worse? Fine. But maybe consider why you’re so stubborn and can’t admit the truth. Even to yourself.”
He’s scared. I know it and he knows it.
That jaw tick again, then his voice is as hard and heavy as his glare. “Maybe consider that none of this involves you.”
He isn’t wrong. Wrapping my arms around myself, I try to shake off the weight of Wyatt’s words, but they’ve already sunk deep.
“You’re right. I don’t know why I bothered. I’d have better luck having a rational conversation with Jasper.”
With that, I leave, high tailing it to the safety of my cabin. I don’t know why I pushed so hard.
No wonder I pissed him off. I’m just an outsider, sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.
Even as I burrow into the warmth of bed later that night, I can’t help but wonder if I got through to him.
Even just a little.
Because if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that family shouldn’t be taken for granted.
I’m pretty sure Wyatt’s anger isn’t really about Caleb riding bulls instead of working the ranch.
It’s about the weight of everything he carries. The fear of failing the people he loves. And all that weight, that fear, he’s shouldering it alone.
I don’t know much about families or ranches.
But being alone? I understand that extremely well.