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“No.” I fiddle with his chest hair, stroking and lightly pulling it as I stare blankly at his muscular torso. “I think I need sleep.”
He kisses me on the forehead. “Then sleep easy, angel. I’ll make it up to you in the morning.”
Wyatt’s too nice. He deserves someone who doesn’t lie. He deserves someone better than me.
I wake up with Wyatt’s arm slung over me. I don’t want to move. I want to relish the warmth of his body against mine for a little while longer. I want to keep breathing in his scent. I want to feel the weight of him and the way his chest rises and falls against my back as he breathes softly. I want to stretch out this moment for a little longer because I know it won’t last.
I’m going to tell him, and that will be the end of it. It. As though what we have is something. It was one night and it was never going to be more than that. I knew it from the beginning, even though I lied to myself. To him. A lie of omission is still a lie, and I hate that I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth.
But I hate it more that even after all these years he couldn’t recognize me. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I was a gawky kid when we first met.
I spend the next few minutes memorizing everything about this moment, nestling it away in my brain so I can torment myself with what could have been but will never be.
It takes some maneuvering, but eventually, I disentangle myself from Wyatt, slip on my clothes, and then creep across the room. I pause in the doorway, glancing at the mountain of a man sleeping soundly. I’d always thought that cowboys were up before the sun, but maybe I had it all wrong.
“Mia…” Wyatt moans. “Mine… mine…” He grabs a pillow and rolls over. I can’t help but smile, but it fades fast and leaves a bittersweet taste in my mouth.
When I make it downstairs to the kitchen, I glance out the window above the sink and see a few men moving around the farm. Moving in and out of buildings, carrying buckets and bags and equipment. Maybe it’s Wyatt’s day to sleep in. I know nothing about farms or cowboys, clearly, even though I grew up around here.
But I know there will be fresh eggs to make a killer omelet. Maybe some muffins. A thick stack of pancakes? Something that will hopefully dampen the blow when I tell Wyatt.
I move around the kitchen, trying not to make too much noise as I begin making breakfast for us. I shouldn’t feel this nervous. We’re both adults. Who cares if I’m his best friend’s sister? Damon shouldn’t factor into this at all.
Bacon’s sizzling in the pan as I make some headway on the omelets. I found all sorts of fresh ingredients that I don’t doubt were grown on the farm. I glance at the bacon. Does he have?—
Before I have the chance to finish the thought I feel something cold and wet against my calf. A few grunts and I’m screaming, jumping, and trying to escape the pig nipping at my heels.
I toss an egg at the pig, missing it by a mile as the egg explodes at the foot of the stairs. We circle the small island in the middle of the kitchen a few times before I grab a slice of bacon and toss it at him, hoping to fend him off long enough for me to scurry upstairs.
I swear everything turns into slow motion as I chuck the bacon at him. Noooooooooooo. It comes out deep and slow as I try to take it back, realizing far too late that feeding a pig some bacon isn’t exactly a great idea. This is how I create Mad Pig Disease.
I dive for the bacon, snatching it away from him before he becomes a cannibal. At the same time, I hear Wyatt stomping upstairs and calling out for me.
I stare at the pig. It stares back at me, nudging my cheek as Wyatt bounds down the stairs. You know, I’ve never been this close to a pig before but this one’s kind of cute. If I wasn’t caught off guard, I think we’d have gotten off on better footing.
“Mia,” Wyatt shouts, his voice rumbling as he gets closer. “Are you—ahfuhshit”
I turn just in time to see a completely naked Wyatt slip and slide on the egg I’d tossed and then fall to the ground, skidding a good couple of feet before he finally comes to a stop.
I rush to my feet, my eyes flaring as I see a naked Wyatt rubbing his shoulder as he begins to sit up. I know I should try and comfort him or apologize. Both, preferably. But right now I’m having a difficult time formulating thoughts as I finally see his body in golden sunlight.
Dear. Lord.
He swipes at the egg on his foot. “Why can’t the floors be clean?”
When he glances up at me, it sends a jolt straight through my core. His hair’s beautifully disheveled but I have the urge to rough it up some more, tunneling my fingers through it, gripping and playing with it.
“That’s my fault,” I say.
“Are you okay?” he asks, rising to his feet quickly and closing the gap between us.
“Um…”
Wyatt has his hands on my shoulders, and then moves one of them to my face, cupping my cheek as he tilts my head toward him. I blink and all I see is his naked body. The way his muscles flexed as he moved towards me. The way it swung around.
“I heard you scream. Are you hurt?”
I shake my head and then rest it on his chest as he holds me.
