Page 31 of Wild Rivals

I drop my chin to my chest, closing my eyes as I blow out a long, shaky breath and stand. Maybe I can tell him some of the truth. I need to get it off my chest. Staring out of the kitchen window, I murmur, “I lost the Evergreen land.”

In the window’s reflection, I watch Deacon as he comes to stand behind me, lifting a hand to my shoulder. “What happened?”

I don’t hold back with this piece of information. Wyatt doesn’t deserve my protection. “Mr. Evergreen called and said that he’s decided to sell the last plot to the Wildes.” A muscle in Deacon’s jaw ticks, but he doesn’t say anything. “Apparently Wyatt made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, and one we had no hope of ever matching.”

“That asshole,” Deacon mutters.

You don’t have to tell me twice. “Now I need to break the news to Dad, and I can’t help but feel like a failure because he trusted me to win this. For Mom.”

Deacon pulls me into his side, resting his chin on the top of my head. “I can tell him, if you want. And pay Wyatt a visit and remind him how we conduct business round here.”

I step out of his arms, switching on the faucet and running the fresh cloth under the warm water. “I appreciate you being willing to do that, but this is something I should do myself. Besides, I think it’ll land a little better if I do it.” I give him a sad smile before adding, “And don’t worry, I already gave Wyatt a piece of my mind.”

And a piece of my body too.

Focusing on the clear water, I swallow around the lump in my throat. The swirl of emotions inside me is almost too much for me to handle. I’ve never been that reckless in my life, and I’m so angry at myself for it.

Silence settles around us when I turn off the faucet and wring out the cloth. Rolling my lips together, I turn back to the stain on the island, scrubbing away like my life depends on it. Deacon’s presence is only adding to my shame, but when he clears his throat and moves around the kitchen toward the door, I force myself to stop. I don’t need to fuck up every human interaction I have today, and unlike Wyatt, Deacon has done nothing wrong to warrant my bad manners.

“Did you need something?” I ask, dragging the back of my hand across my forehead as I look at him.

He picks up a tool bag I hadn’t noticed, holding it up as he chucks his thumb over his shoulder. “I was just upstairs fixing the leaky faucet in the guest bathroom.”

“Oh.” I look down at the counter as guilt floods me. My brother was here fixing my sink as I was fucking the guy who hates him. Fantastic. As if my day couldn’t get any worse.

Unaware of my betrayal, Deacon lifts a shoulder like it’s no big deal. “It should be okay now, but if it starts again, let me know. It could be a faulty washer inside the faucet, and then you’d need a new one, but for now, I’ve just tightened everything up.”

“Thank you,” I murmur.

Neither of us speaks for a moment, and I can tell that he’s weighing up his next words.

“If you need anything, just call, Mads. I’m sure Dad will understand about the land. It’s not like anything you did caused this. Sometimes things don’t work out in our favor, and I’m sure he’ll understand that.”

My chest tightens, and I nod. He walks away, and it’s only when I hear the click of the front door that I release my breath.

I’m the worst sister.

I spend the next few hours cleaning my house from top to bottom, grateful that Mona has everything in hand and I don’t hear a peep from her. The only thing I can focus on right now is cleaning and not the monumental mistake I made with a sexy, irritating cowboy.

20

WYATT

It’s Sunday, which means I can’t hang out at home thinking about the way Maddie ran out of here like the hounds of hell were at her heels a matter of hours ago. I’ve got a family dinner to get to.

Nearly every Sunday, my siblings, Mom, and sometimes cousins have dinner at Grayson’s house. Mom always insists on cooking, so all we have to do is show up and spend quality time—without the pressure of work—as a family. It never fails to be a good night, and I secretly think Mom enjoys taking care of us. For at least one night a week, anyway.

I’m the last to arrive, and a low chatter fills the house as I let myself in. Grayson’s place is our childhood home. As the eldest, when he was old enough, Mom moved into one of the old buildings on the property, and it was handed down to him.

I make my way through the house, the smell of fried chicken filling the air. My stomach gurgles at the idea of the feast I’m about to devour. With Maddie’s impromptu visit this afternoon, I didn’t have time to grab lunch.

When I enter the kitchen, my attention bounces around the room, landing on Mom. She’s standing at the counter, mashing the potatoes. Her silver-streaked dark brown hair is tied up in her signature bun as she lifts her head and offers me a soft smile.

Crossing the room, I make a beeline for her, dropping a kiss into her hair as I pull her into my side and ask, “Hey, you need a hand with anything?”

She shakes her head. “Just sit back and relax,” she replies, making a shooing motion with her hand.

I squeeze her before moving around the room.