Page 12 of Wild Rivals

I’m not quick enough to hide my surprise; my eyes are still wide and my mouth slightly agape as he smirks at me from where he’s seated.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Maddie Hart. Did they let you out to play with the big dogs today?” he sneers, crossing his legs at his ankles as he stares at me.

I snap my mouth shut, grinding my back molars as I cross the room and take a seat in the corner, ignoring him. If I give him the chance, he’ll try to worm his way into my head and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. He’s already been there when he shouldn’t be, and I’ll be damned if he ever finds that out.

Wyatt leans forward, and although I’m not looking at him, I can feel his gaze on me. “You know it’s rude to ignore people when you’re asked a question. Or did your parents not teach you that?”

I narrow my eyes at him and bite back, “Did yours not teach you not to be such an ass?”

Wyatt stands, crossing the room before relaxing in the seat one chair away from me. This close to him, I can smell his woodsy cologne and feel the heat emanating from his body. It throws me back to that night at the rodeo. I didn’t notice his scent then, but I felt his heat and how it traveled from him to me.

His minty breath skates across my face when he leans closer and asks, “How come it’s you here and not your dad?”

He’s closer than I expect when I turn in my seat. My eyes flick to his mouth before I force them back to his blue eyes and snap, “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

The words are a chant in my mind, a reminder of who he is and how I should be feeling about him.

Wyatt shrugs, leaning back in his chair as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “I dunno, just wouldn’t have thought they’d hang you out like this.”

“Like what?” I ask, before biting the inside of my cheek and turning back to face the room. I shouldn’t engage with him. It’s what he wants.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him fold his arms across his chest and cock a brow before he replies, “I mean, you don’t exactly have a wealth of negotiating skills, Hart.”

“And you do?” This time, I look at him, lifting a brow and daring him to argue with me because we all know that Grayson used to be the one out doing all their business negotiations. It’s common knowledge in town that after Avery left and their father died, Grayson threw himself into his work.

“Touché. But I’ve got more experience than you, in more ways than one, darlin’.”

The endearment—though I’m not sure he meant it that way—sends a rush of heat to my core, and I’m annoyed with myself for my body’s reaction. Whipping toward him, I ignore the dig that I’m sure he was going for and bite, “Don’t call me that.”

I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. The glee on Wyatt’s face lights up his features brighter than the arena.

He really is handsome. The thought catches me off guard and annoyance, more with myself than anyone else, flares in my chest.

God, why am I entertaining him?

Huffing out a breath, I turn away from him and open my proposal to read over it one more time. Within seconds, I slam it shut when I catch Wyatt leaning closer.

“Do you mind?” I huff.

He picks up his Stetson, resting it on his face as he relaxes back in his chair. “Don’t mind me, darlin’. I’m gonna catch some shuteye; I had a late night.”

He’s so infuriating.

There’s only one thing for me to do now. Go in there, pitch my ass off and show him that I’m not someone to mess with. So what if I haven’t ever had to pitch for something this big by myself before? I’ve attended meetings with Daddy and know all his secrets when it comes to this side of the ranch’s business. Hell, I pitch to brides all the time; this should be a walk in the park.

With the sound of Wyatt’s soft breathing filling the room, I run over my pitch one last time, certain that I’m going to walk into that room and win Jim Evergreen over.

9

WYATT

Maddie and I have been waiting for twenty minutes when I decide I’ve been pretending to sleep for long enough. In the short space of time we’ve been in this room, I’ve become attuned to her every movement, the shuffling of papers and the steady rhythm of her breathing. My body is on high alert, and with every inhale, I catch the sweetness of her scent. It’s been hell.

Removing my hat, I stretch out my body as the sound of her binder slamming shut filters around the room. I can’t contain my chuckle as I look over at her. “You know, I don’t need or want to steal your ideas.” Tapping my temple, I say, “I’ve got gold up here.”

She stands, setting her folder down on the seat she’s just vacated, before straightening her clothes. “I beg to differ. Seems to me like you don’t have much going on up there. Besides, I’m not likely to trust a man like you, Wilde.”