Page 47 of Tempting Wyatt (Triple Creek Ranch #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

ivy

“THIS IS A COFFEE SHOP?” I ask as Wyatt helps me out of the truck. I can already tell I’m going to be sore tomorrow from the trail ride.

He nods. “Belongs to a friend of my mom’s, a widow named Emma Montgomery.”

I study the large oval shaped wooden sign hanging from the pitched roof. Looks like it was sliced off a giant tree trunk. Emma’s Place it says in pretty script. Printed neatly below are the words coffee, tea, pastries.

It’s a cabin of sorts, the building of navy siding and oak logs with a metal roof blending seamlessly into the tall trees surrounding it.

Two gray-haired ladies sit sipping drinks in rocking chairs on the front porch.

There’s a chess set between them, but they don’t seem to be playing.

Wyatt greets them as he holds the door open for me.

The intense aroma of fresh coffee grounds combined with the sweet sugary scent of baked goods has my mouth watering the moment we enter.

Inside it’s cozy, dimly lit with a few floor lamps near bookcases and strings of bulb lights hanging from the ceiling. The walls are wood paneled, making it feel like a secret spot in a fairytale forest. Soft jazz plays in the background.

Two older gentlemen sit at a picnic style table piecing together a puzzle.

In the corner, in plum hued plush wingback chairs, a young couple chats quietly.

At a small table against the window, a middle-aged lady with Air Pods in both ears appears deep in thought, her brow furrowed in concentration as she glares at the screen of her MacBook.

She reminds me of me. And that I should probably be writing right now. This would be a perfect place to work.

I wish I had more time here.

The thought comes unexpectedly, and I shove it aside as we give the young female barista our orders. Black coffee for him and a lavender latte for me.

“Better order something to eat. I was serious about lunch being gone by the time we get back.” Wyatt waves a hand toward the bakery case.

The items inside look too beautiful to be real. I consider them carefully.

“I’m torn between the chocolate hazelnut croissant and the turkey and Swiss one,” I admit.

“Both are excellent choices,” the blonde barista says with a smile.

“We’ll take both,” Wyatt tells her. “Two of each please.”

“Both?” I glance up at him. Malcolm would’ve told me to take it easy on the carbs. Wyatt ordered extra.

He leans down and tells me quietly, “You need some food in you after that ride.”

My lips curve into a grin. “The trail ride or riding you in the hot spring?”

“Both, baby.” He winks before leading me toward a door, then turns to me again. “You okay with sitting outside?”

I nod.

“We’re going to sit on the patio,” he tells the barista.

Once our drinks are up, Wyatt carries them both and leads me through a screened in porch that exits down a few stairs onto a patio with a gorgeous view of the river. As always, the mountains provide a backdrop that appears too majestic to be real.

“Wow,” I say. “This is beautiful.”

The back patio is tiled with dark slate in a semi-circle. Large flat stones border the edge between the patio and the river. A few empty chairs sit around a stone fire pit, and several two person tables line the riverbank’s edge.

We move to the first one and Wyatt places our cups on the table. He pulls my chair out and I smile up at him.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Once he’s seated, his eyes meet mine over his coffee cup. There’s heat there, but there are questions too. Ones I’m not sure I should answer.

I speak before he can ask any. “Are you sure I’m not keeping you from important ranch business?”

He watches me sip my latte. “Positive.” He glances around at the water, the changing leaves rustling in the breeze.

Then his gaze comes back to me. “Probably a good thing to get out occasionally. I’ve become a work horse, mindlessly going through the motions day after day.

” He gestures to the scenery just as a teenage boy walks over and places the plate of pastries on the table.

They look delicious. And smell amazing.

My smile widens. “Well, I’m glad we could break you out of robot rancher mode.

” I take a bite of the savory croissant first and moan at how good it is.

Then I dip my head, suddenly self-conscious about the sex noises that pastries seem to inspire.

“But seriously, thank you for today and for bringing me here.”

He smirks back at me then takes a large swig of his coffee. “You’re welcome. Probably not much compared to the coffee shops in California. But it’s one of my favorites.” He winks but there’s a note of something I can’t quite identify underneath his teasing tone.

I make a big show of looking around. “Are you kidding? This is more beautiful than any cafe back home.” I take another sip of my perfectly brewed latte. “If I moved here, I’d practically live here, in this very spot.”

He bristles at the mention of me moving here and immediately I feel like an idiot.

“I mean, not that I’d move here,” I ramble awkwardly. “I just meant, if I lived in the area, this would be a great place to work.”

His brow pulls together. “You want to work in a coffee shop?”

I laugh softly. “No. I meant I’d bring my computer here to work.” Literally every single day.

He leans back in his chair. “Oh yeah, your writing. And what do you write?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him everything.

How the success from Random Hearts catapulted me into a different world, how Malcolm swooped in and took over Captive, convincing me the red flag on his back was a superhero cape.

How I don’t know how I’m going to work with my awful ex on that project and how excited I am about the new one I’ve started based on my experiences here.

But I’m not ready to let go of this moment, of the version of him that smiles and winks and laughs with me. Isaac’s warning led me to believe that will change when Wyatt finds out I work in the movie industry.

Inhaling deeply, I tell him the truth without including details. “Different things. Some suspense, some romance.”

His lips twitch. “Romance novels like my sister reads? Oiled up six-pack abs on the cover. Heaving bosom. That sort of thing?”

I nod solemnly. “Don’t judge. Heaving bosom is my bread and butter.”

He stares at me for a solid minute to see if I’m joking. I maintain the most serious face that I can manage. Arch a brow at him.

Then I can’t help it, I laugh. Lightly.

“No heaving bosoms. And probably no abs on the cover, though I might happen to own and cherish a few of those books myself, thank you very much.”

He exhales. “Willow has stacks of them. So if you did write them, she’d be asking for your autograph.”

I sip my warm drink. “Willow doesn’t strike me as the swoony hero type.”

His eyes tighten. “She’s not. She had a bad experience. High school sweetheart proposed then he decided he didn’t want to get married after all.” He pulls in a deep breath. “Unfortunately, he decided that at the altar. In front of everyone.”

Jesus. Sutton had mentioned the guy was a dick, but damn.

My chest tightens. “Oh my gosh. Poor Willow. That’s awful.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but he only takes a drink and relaxes further into his chair. “It was years ago. But that’s why she says she sticks to fictional guys now.”

“I get it.” I nod my understanding. After Malcolm, I’ve sworn off men myself. Though this one sitting across from me is making it harder to remember why.

“Do you?”

My mind wandered and his question catches me off guard. “Do I what?”

“Get it.” His eyes search mine and I feel the intrusion deeply. “When you arrived here, you seemed a little wounded.”

My throat constricts. I attempt to take a calming breath as my heart rate amps up.

“Bad break up,” I admit. “Coinciding with an important deadline.” When he doesn’t say anything, those dark eyes implore me to continue.

“I was already struggling with my work, lacking inspiration. Blocked, I guess. Then I walked in on my fi—um, significant other—with a friend of mine. And decided I needed a change of scenery.”

There. That wasn’t so bad.

It feels surprisingly good to get that off my chest. I’m lighter now somehow.

His eyes continue to search mine, and I can see him trying to figure me out. I glance at my drink, then I break off a piece of the chocolate croissant.

“I’m sorry that happened,” he says evenly.

“It’s okay,” I say, realizing for the first time it doesn’t hurt so much to think about it anymore. “I’m working through it.”

“Is it helping? The change of scenery?”

My eyes roam over him. He’s more handsome than should be possible in real life. Broad, tall, and broodingly intense. His deep blue shirt reflecting off those dark eyes, giving them a silver glint in the sunlight. Muscles flexing each time he tightens his grip on his cup.

“Seems to be.”

He grins. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

“So this excursion today,” he begins. “Not interfering with your deadline?”

“I was hoping it would be inspiring.” Exhaling heavily, I look around. “This coffee shop alone is as picturesque as it gets.”

“Was it inspiring?”

Enjoying the intensity of his focus on me, I nod. “So far. Yeah.” I drop my gaze to where my hands are wrapped around my coffee cup. “I’m actually stuck right at the most important part.”

“Ah. Struggling with the sex scenes are you? I’d be happy to volunteer for research in that department.”

He’s smiling but there’s a note of legitimacy in his tone.

I arch a brow to see if he elaborates. But he only sips his coffee.

“The tension between the characters is off the charts and it’s reaching fever pitch, so they’ll definitely do the deed soon.”

He laughs, a quick burst of a chuckle that makes me smile. “The deed, wow. Sounds hot.”

I make deliberate eye contact. “Oh, it will be, Wyatt Logan. Just you wait.”

He stares so intently at me that I twitch in my seat. Then he leans back a bit in his chair, and I can breathe normally again.

“So what’s the problem then? They fall in love, they do the deed as you say, then live happily ever after. No?”

“No.” I let my eyes drop to my hands on the table once more.

This is always the part I struggle with.

“There’s got to be some angst, a nearly insurmountable conflict that has them questioning if the sacrifices they have to make to be together are worth it.

People have to root for them, and the characters have to demonstrate their personal growth and why they’re better off together than apart. ”

He appears to contemplate this. “So have them break up, miss each other like crazy until they’re miserable, then say fuck it and get back together. Maybe with a grand gesture of some sort.”

I groan loudly. Probably startling the other patrons. “No, definitely not. Third act break ups are tricky. They can happen, but if they happen for no good reason, I’d be cancelled in a heartbeat.”

Wyatt looks truly troubled by this. “Why?”

“They’re seen as weak. In terms of writing. Contrived, pointless, and predictable.”

He appears to contemplate this. “It can’t just be happily ever after from here on out then. No drama necessary?”

“I wish,” I admit. “There must be drama. Angst that’s emotionally earned. That forces the characters to take agency and become who they were meant to be.”

He frowns. “How about a kidnapping?”

I shake my head. “Not for this story. It’s been done. To death.” I should know, it was the conflict that Captive centered on.

“This is complicated.”

I grin. “Right? Now you know why I’m behind on my deadline.”

I’m momentarily distracted by his muscular forearms as he leans across the table. “What about she lives really far away and has to go home for her job, and he’s got blood ties to land he can’t leave?”

The intensity in his dark eyes stops my breathing. Or maybe it’s the depth of the difficult truth in his words.

“Yeah,” I say softly. “That’d do it.”

We’re quiet for the next few minutes, polishing off the pastries and the last of our drinks. But the intimacy between us is deeper than before. I’m not sure how I feel about it. Part of me wants to live in this moment forever. But it doesn’t matter because this is temporary.

A brief hiatus from real life.

I vow to enjoy it. The picturesque view of the landscape and a rugged rancher in Montana.

The writer in me takes it all in. The scattering of leaves drifting lazily in the breeze, the gentle rippling of the river beside us.

I breathe it in, taste it, and smile at the beautiful man across from me.

Telling myself that I’ll be able to leave without looking back.

I can write this scene in the future, work it into a script somehow so I’ll have it to hold onto forever.

And maybe, hopefully, Wyatt Logan will hold onto a piece of me forever as well.