Page 6 of Tempting Wyatt (Triple Creek Ranch #1)

CHAPTER FIVE

ivy

MY LUCK LATELY IS TRULY SOMETHING. Just when I think I’ve found some peace in the most beautiful place on the planet, an angry-looking mountain man, with the black beard of a pirate covering half his handsome face, approaches me with an axe.

An actual honest-to-God axe. As in the kind axe-murderers probably carry.

A dark triangular tattoo on his inner forearm almost distracts me from the weapon he holds. Looks like the brand for the ranch that matches the one I saw on the sign when I drove in through the gate.

So much for not getting murdered.

My heart leaps into my throat, and I’m tongue-tied as he bares his chiseled abs by using the bottom of his shirt to wipe sweat from his brow.

Swallowing and breathing are a struggle as I grab my bag from the seat and then lift one hand to wave and block the sun from my eyes. It shines from behind him as if he were an angel, but as he grows closer, I know only the Devil creates men who look like this.

This man was carved from wood and brought to life with some kind of sex-fairy magic that’s wreaking havoc on my ovaries and my brain.

I’m off men after Malcolm—a decision I made on the drive. But damn if I don’t want to climb this one like a tree.

The fact that he looks like he wants to crush my bones to make his bread is doing very little to slow the heat unfurling inside me. I may be fine with it if he drags me into the woods to have his way with me first.

Lust. This is simply lust. Just a more powerful version than I’ve ever experienced in my twenty-six years.

Testosterone radiates from the creature before me, rolling off him and crashing into me like a tidal wave. If I stand here much longer, I’m fairly certain I’ll get pregnant. IUD be damned.

From the frown on his face, he’s no more excited about my presence than I would be to learn there were termites in my cabin.

He stops just inches out of touching distance. Then stares intently and arches a brow. “You lost?”

The gravity of his voice threatens to pull me under. It takes me a minute to process his question.

“Um, hi. No. I mean, I don’t think I’m lost. I’m Ivy,” I say with all the breath I can manage to shove from my lungs. “Anderson,” I add even though he looks like he couldn’t care less.

When I reach my hand out to shake his, it only causes his frown to deepen and his brows to dip farther inward.

“From the bank?” he asks with a tilt of his head, ignoring my outstretched hand completely.

Even his voice rumbles through my body like thunder. Jesus. Who is this guy, and where is the sweet lady from the picture?

My luck, it was a decoy to lure unsuspecting tourists to their gruesome death.

“From Los Angeles,” I say slowly, clearing my throat and lowering my hand, feeling like an idiot for leaving it hanging between us for so long.

His anger morphs gradually into confusion as his eyes roam over me.

“Los Angeles,” he repeats slowly, as if I’d said planet Neptune instead.

“I’m renting the Lazy Bear cabin for the next two weeks,” I offer.

“The Lazy Bear cabin?” He chuckles darkly, as if I said something amusing.

Maybe he’s a worker here or something and doesn’t know the names of the cabins.

“Are you going to repeat everything I say?”

He has a good foot or more and probably a hundred and fifty pounds on me, but I hold my chin up and maintain eye contact.

I paid in full in advance, so if this is some scam and this guy plans to intimidate me into leaving, I’ve got some bad news for him.

I dealt with lawyers for months when my screenplay for Random Hearts was turned into a scripted series on multiple streaming platforms. I damn sure know my way around litigation.

This place cost most of my savings, so I’m either staying or getting a full refund before I leave.

Unless he refuses to drop that axe. I can probably be persuaded to leave with a partial refund if he continues holding it.

Just as I’m about to have a full-blown panic attack, induced by his glare alone, the woman from the listing photo comes running out of the modern farmhouse beside us.

“You must be Ivy,” she greets me breathlessly, rushing to put herself between me and the angry mountain man.

“I am,” I say, uncertain as to what is happening. “I just arrived, and this”—I don’t know what to call him, definitely not a gentleman—“guy seems confused. Is this Triple Creek Ranch? Am I in the right place for the Lazy Bear cabin rental?”

“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes, as if she knows he was rude without having been present for our encounter. “I’m Laurel Logan,” she adds, shaking my hand firmly.

“Nice to meet you.” I smile, and the tension in my chest eases. Finally, someone with manners.

“I was inside, baking pies—one of which is to welcome you—and lost track of time.”

“It’s fine. I happen to love pie.” I cast a sideways glance at the man who hasn’t spoken or moved since Laurel appeared.

“I hope you like cherry. We’ve got a tree that’s out of control this year. I’ll be filling our freezer with them, if you’d like to take some home as well.”

I love this woman already.

“I’d be happy to purchase some from you. I don’t recall free pie being part of the rental agreement.”

She waves her hand between us. “You’d be doing me a favor, clearing out space in my freezer.”

Before I can respond, she turns to the still-frowning man staring at us. “Wyatt, be a dear and run Ivy and her things down to the larger guest cabin.”

He looks at her like she’s lost her mind. “You’re serious?”

She ignores him and turns her attention back to me. “Hopefully, you’ll find the cabin to your liking. I’ve stocked it with all the necessities. I’ll be down shortly with the pie, and I’ll check that you’re settling in.”

She turns to leave me alone with the still-axe-wielding wall of testosterone, and I almost beg her to stay.

Refusing to let this guy get to me because that’s my new policy—no more asshole guys getting to me—I inhale a chest-heaving breath and stare him directly in his deep brown, nearly coal-black eyes. They must match his soul.

“If you tell me the way, I’ll happily take myself to my cabin.”

“Your cabin,” he mutters while shaking his head.

“The one I rented for the next two weeks.”

His eyes narrow, and I shrink at least an inch.

“There’s no road for you to take yourself anywhere in that car.”

He sighs heavily, and for a moment, I almost feel sorry for him. He’s obviously exhausted, and here I am, adding more work to his day.

“I’m going to rinse off in the barn and put on a clean shirt. I’ll take you down on the ATV.”

“On the what now?”

“Wait here,” he practically growls at me.

With that, he turns and leaves me alone, stomping off in the direction from whence he came.

Well then . . .

So much for feeling guilty.

I don’t know what this guy’s problem is, but he could learn a thing or two about hospitality. Laurel seemed so sweet and eager to have me here. But this Wyatt, she called him, was the opposite of welcoming.

Well, too bad for him.

Because not only is there a breathtaking view of the mountains and a picturesque river running through this gorgeous sprawling property, but there’s also free pie.

So, I might never leave.

Choke on that, Wyatt.