Page 51 of Tempting Wyatt (Triple Creek Ranch #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

wyatt

JOE’S VISIT FUCKED WITH MY HEAD.

Thoroughly.

After carrying Ivy to my best last night, I didn’t sleep much, just poured over the bills and the assets, trying to figure out what I can liquidate quickly.

Joe’s visit wasn’t the only thing that fucked me up yesterday. My Hollywood angel waking in the middle of the night and helping me to organize the mountain of invoices I’d been struggling to wrangle for months, shocked the shit out of me.

I’m the one who helps everyone, not the other way around. But she was there, making coffee, building a spreadsheet on my ancient laptop, color-coding shit like a pro until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. I owe her. A thank you, a date, something.

But I’m so busy scrambling to figure out how to come up with this money, I can barely find time to breathe.

I waste most of the day making calls, trying to sell whatever assets I can afford to in the next thirty days. I’m nowhere near where I need to be to hold the foreclosure off. But I have a meeting next week with a shady loan shark named Rick. He owns a few businesses in town, so there’s hope.

Next on the list is the ten-year-old broken-down ranch truck I need to fix and sell. It no sooner got a new radiator then the spark plugs went bad. I need to sell it along with some other equipment as soon as possible.

If Asher were here, it would’ve been taken care of weeks ago. But he’s not, so it’s been at the bottom of my endless to-do list for far too long.

I’m elbow-deep in the engine of it when Isaac shows up, leaning against the side like he’s got all the time in the world.

My hand slips off the wrench and my knuckles slam into the engine.

“Damn it.” I shake my hand to ease the sting then return it to the wrench.

“You seem a little jumpy lately, brother,” Isaac drawls.

I don’t look up. Just tighten the bolt I’m working on and mutter, “Don’t recall asking for your opinion.”

Isaac snorts, before lifting a beer bottle to his lips. “And I don’t recall you ever being this wound up over a woman before.”

My grip tightens on the wrench. “Not wound up over anyone.”

“Uh-huh.” He makes a noise like he’s considering calling bullshit, then tilts his head. “So if it’s not the sexy city girl putting you in a mood, what is it?”

I don’t know, maybe the mountain of fucking debt and crushing pressure of not being the first in a long line of Logans to lose our family’s land.

I don’t answer, just focus on the task in front of me.

Isaac exhales, a little more serious now. “Let’s go into town tonight. Grab a drink.”

I shake my head. That’s the last thing I feel like doing. “Busy.”

“You’re always busy.”

I finally glance up, narrowing my eyes. “Something wrong with working?”

“Not unless you’re using it as an excuse to avoid dealing with shit.”

I huff out a breath and wipe my greasy hands on a rag, already irritated with where this is going. “And what exactly do you think I need to deal with, Dr. Phil?”

Isaac stares at me for a long moment, the humor fading from his face. “You haven’t been out to grab a beer with me once since Dad passed.”

My jaw goes tight. “Look around, Isaac. I have work to do.” I gesture to the truck.

Isaac watches me for a few seconds, then shakes his head. “Look, man. If you’re not gonna blow off steam with that sexy new cabin tenant, and you don’t want to go out, come do some fly fishing with Willow and me. We haven’t done that in forever.”

Add it to the list of all the other shit I haven’t done in forever.

Laughed, fucked off for a few hours just because I could, gotten laid. . .

Though I have come very close to burying my aching cock in Ivy’s tight body. And I’ve felt her pussy fluttering all over my fingers and tongue. I’m half hard just thinking about it.

I miss the next part of his argument and tune in when he says, “City girl is at the main house baking with mom. You can at least hang with your family for a couple hours. Fish a little. Drink a beer. Maybe remember you’re still allowed to enjoy shit every once in a while.”

I exhale hard, glancing at the truck like it might get me out of this conversation. But I know Isaac. He’s not going to let it go. And hell, maybe he’s right.

Ivy keeps reminding me to spend time with my family, to appreciate them. And I told her I was going to.

Fishing with him and Willow sounds better than a crowded bar.

I toss the rag onto the hood and sigh. “Fine. We’ll go fishing.”

Isaac grins, clapping me on the shoulder. “Atta boy. I’ll go grab the gear and the cooler.”

I grunt, turning back to the truck, but not before I catch him looking way too pleased with himself.

THE RIVER IS QUIET THIS EVENING, just the steady rush of water and the occasional buzz of an insect past my ear. The sky is that perfect shade of silvery violet—the sun setting just beyond the mountain range.

Ivy would love it.

I find myself wishing I’d invited her along but she did look like she was enjoying baking with Mom.

I stand knee-deep in the current, flicking my line with the same steady rhythm I’ve known since I was a kid.

The last time we did this, about a year ago, Dad was here. Cracking jokes, making plans for winter, and reminding us to check on old man Peterson because his wife was sick.

Isaac’s a few yards away, chatting with Willow—relaxed, practically charming the damn fish right out of the water. Willow is in a lawn chair she brought, sipping a beer and telling us about her day.

“Ivy’s very pretty,” she announces suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, and my hand jerks, snagging my damn line.

I bite back a curse as Isaac chimes in. “She’s more than pretty,” he says, smirking. “She’s drop-dead damn gorgeous. A man would have to be blind not to notice.”

His stare warms the side of my face but I remain focused on the water.

“She seems super sweet, too,” Willow adds. “Fits in well around here from what I can tell.”

I grit my teeth and focus on untangling my line. She’s breathtakingly beautiful, I want to say but I know better. I will not take the bait.

Apparently, this wasn’t an impromptu fishing outing like I was led to believe. I know an ambush when I see one.

Isaac hums, a smug, amused sound. “Makes me wish Mom had rented her the cabin closer to mine instead of Wyatt’s.”

Willow laughs—the typically pleasant sound now grates on my nerves.

“The two of you yammering all evening is going to scare all the fish away,” I say evenly, careful not to let my irritation show. In our family, once they smell weakness, you’re done for.

Isaac coughs loudly. “You seem kind of twitchy, brother. That’s what’s scaring the fish away. Something bothering you?”

I shoot him a look. “Not twitchy.”

“You’re a little twitchy,” Willow argues.

“Please tell me you have a crush on the rental tenant, too.” She grins.

“It’s like something straight out of one of my romance novels.

Two brothers fall for the same beautiful city girl.

” She drags a hand over her heart dramatically.

“She’s torn between the broody one and the charming one. ”

“That’s not how real life works,” I mutter, casting my line again, jaw tight.

“Says the broody one,” Willow comments.

Isaac barks out a laugh. We might as well give up fishing altogether.

“That’s not how your life works. I’m the charming one that always gets the girl. But you? You’re not that guy, pal.”

I ignore him. But our sister is just getting started.

“Maybe you’re right,” she muses. “Maybe Wyatt isn’t the hero in this story. Maybe Ivy’s fated mate is actually . . . ” She pauses—dragging out the moment, enjoying this way too much—before her gaze lands squarely on Isaac. “The charming cowboy.”

Tension rolls through me like the ripples in the water, fingers tightening on my rod.

Isaac grins. “Now that’s a story I could get behind. City girl and me, riding off into the sunset.” He sighs, shaking his head like he’s picturing it. “I could enjoy California. You’d miss me, though, wouldn’t you, Wy?”

Maybe with the first swing. Not with the second.

My jaw clenches. “You’re not riding off anywhere with anyone. You can barely focus on the same woman for five minutes. These fish have a longer attention span than you.”

Willow gasps. “Oh my God, look at him. He’s seething.”

I glare at them both. “I’m not seething.”

Isaac’s grin stretches wider. “It’s giving seething, bro. That’s definitely a scowl.”

I give up casting and stripping the line, reeling it in to move to a spot farther away from them. If I say one more word, I’ll just dig myself in deeper. Because the idea of Isaac and Ivy together?

Has my blood running dangerously hot.

Fated mates. To hell with that.

I can admit that he makes her laugh. Makes her smile. Amuses her. I’ve seen it.

And it annoys the shit out of me.

But I’m the one who gets the intense stares and that stormy hazel gaze undressing me in her mind while she tries to figure me out.

I’d never confess it to these two, but every time I see her with Isaac, I’m weighing which one of us could make her happier. The idea of watching the only woman who’s ever made my heart race and my head spin fall in love with my brother is giving me a migraine.

Could Isaac be Ivy’s fated mate? Was she meant to come here and fall in love with my charming cowboy brother so they could ride off into the sunset together?

I try to picture it, but my mind rejects the image instantly.

Over my dead damn body.

Isaac isn’t going to be her happily ever after.

Because I am.