Page 36 of Wild Rivals

“I’m just sorry she couldn’t make dinner. If you can’t make it here before you leave tomorrow, at least promise me you’ll take her to Chapters and Crumbs for a sweet treat?”

“She’d kill me if I didn’t.” Hunter chuckles.

I dip my chin before looking up at him from under my lashes and leaning closer as I whisper conspiratorially, “All I’ll say is, if I was on the jury, it’s an automatic not guilty from me.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Wyatt approaching. Or should I say, marching toward us. If I’m being honest, I felt his presence as soon as he walked in and approached the counter. A frisson of awareness skates down my spine, the feeling becoming all too familiar whenever I’m near him. It feels easier to focus on the irritation I’m used to, so that’s what I do. I felt the moment he noticed me. My stomach flipped and I hate it, but even more, I hate that my body’s natural reaction is to be turned on at the sight of him.

When I saw him out in the pasture the other day, I thought about asking him to touch me again. We were all alone, nobody would have known, but then I reminded myself how I felt when everything around us had settled, when I was standing in front of Deacon and all the history we share. That I haven’t been able to get him out of my mind since we had sex is just another issue to add to the long list I have with Wyatt.

I tense as he gets closer, bracing myself for his presence. Damn, I wish I knew which version of him I’m about to get. Hell, I’d settle for why he’s even coming over. It’s not like we have anything to say to each other. If he messes this up for me, I swear on my life, I’ll make him pay.

“Maddie,” he practically purrs, and I feel the deep timber of his voice in my core.

I turn toward Wyatt, reminding myself of my company as I reply in my most professional and business-like tone, “Wyatt.”

It feels like hours pass as we get locked in a silent battle, with neither one of us willing to break eye contact. I let the anger and disappointment I felt on the truck drive home the other day return. It bubbles under my skin, turning the lust into something else entirely. Because of what we did, I’ve been making stupid mistakes at work and I’m not the type of person to make mistakes, like calling a client by the wrong name or zoning out in meetings. He’s all I can think about, but that ends right now.

Hunter clears his throat, drawing my attention to him and away from the tempting blue of Wyatt’s eyes.

Scrubbing a hand over my forehead as if that might make me get some sense, I say, “I’m sorry, Hunter, this is Wyatt Wilde. Wyatt, this is Hunter. He’s in town on business.”

Hunter holds his hand out to Wyatt, a smile on his lips. “It’s nice to meet you, Wyatt.”

Instead of being polite, like any normal human being would, Wyatt narrows his eyes, looking down at Hunter’s outstretched hand like it’s covered in bear shit. It feels like an eternity before he claps his hand into Hunter’s and shakes it. The atmosphere feels strained. I’d give up my favorite pair of bell-bottom jeans—the ones that make my ass look extra perky—just to not be here.

“Do you work with Maddie?” Hunter asks, either oblivious to the air of asshole Wyatt is giving off or simply choosing to ignore it.

Wyatt opens his mouth to reply, but I don’t trust anything remotely polite to come out of it based on the scowl on his face.

I jump in before he can reply and say, “No, Wyatt’s family have their own ranch not far from Hartlands.” I bare my teeth in what I hope is a polite grin as I slide out of the booth. “Will you excuse us for just a second? Cowboy stuff and all that,” I mumble, my cheeks growing hot with embarrassment.

Normally I wouldn’t leave a client alone, but there’s no way I’m putting up with Wyatt’s shitty mood sucking the air out of the room. He either needs to chill the fuck out or leave.

Keeping my back to Hunter, I shove Wyatt’s chest. He holds his hands up, an arrogant smirk on his lips as he walks back toward the restroom hallway. Some patrons—the ones we grew up around and who know our history—turn to stare, but I don’t pay them any mind.

“What is your problem?” I hiss when I’m certain that we’re out of view of Hunter and earshot of everyone.

Wyatt raises his brows in mock surprise. “My problem? Does he know we fucked?”

My head rears back. “Excuse me?” I scoff, my stomach dropping to my feet as I look around the small space, double-checking that we are alone. Does he have to be so crass? “Nobody knows that,” I sneer.

“Maybe I should tell him.” Wyatt moves as if to pass me, but I grip his bicep. The muscles contract under my hold and remind me of his strength, of the way he carried me to his bed.

I release his arm like he’s on fire. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?” I seethe, ignoring the way—despite how pissed off at him I am—I want to tell him to get on his knees and taste me.

He turns toward me, towering over me. A muscle ticks in his cheek, and I focus on it, using it as an anchor as the floor shifts beneath my feet. I hate how unbothered he looks by the possibility of someone discovering what we did. Like he’s not wrapped up in shame by it all. I guess I was just another notch on his bedpost.

Tilting his head to one side, he asks, “Don’t you think your boyfriend deserves to know what we did?”

He thinks Hunter’s my boyfriend? The thought is almost laughable, and if I didn’t feel like a weight had been lifted from me, I would be doubled over with how funny that is. Instead, I collapse against the wall, pressing a hand to my chest as relief seeps into me.

I feel the heat of Wyatt’s stare on me as I suck in a breath, reinforcing my strength. It’s about time I owned what we did and put Wyatt in his place. He doesn’t get to walk around here acting like I owe him something just because we had sex one time.

Straightening, I step into his space and say, “What I do with my life is none of your damn business, Wyatt. You don’t get to come over in the middle of the diner and be rude to the person I’m having dinner with. Am I clear?” He doesn’t say anything, and so I add, “I’m glad we got that sorted.”

I brush past him, heading back to my table, and ignoring the way my body is craving his touch in the worst possible way. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea to find someone who can help me forget all about Wyatt and the way he drove me wild.

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