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“Not happening, Sean.”
“What the hell’s your problem?” He took a step toward her, but Regan had nowhere to go. She was surrounded by her peers, and none of them paid the least attention to her. They were caught up in the music, the party, and good times. Seriously. It felt like she’d somehow managed to fall back in time and it was prom night all over again.
Chest tight, she gritted her teeth. Screw this yahoo. She would punch him in the throat and maybe kick him in the gonads if that was what it took. She actually brought up her hands and fisted them. And maybe she would have punched Sean McAdams in the throat, but Wyatt Blackwell stepped between them, and she froze.
His dark eyes looked at her in a way that made the hair stand up on her arms. And he studied her—holy hell, did he study her. The band slowed down, and an old Maroon 5 song spilled over the crowd. Its haunting melody reached out grabbed everyone, and bodies slowly melted together. Hands crept up to necks and shoulders. Sank into hair and slipped around waists.
She shouldn’t have come.
She was angry. And sad. And confused. She was everything rolled up into something she couldn’t name, and for a scary moment, she thought she was going to lose it. What the hell was wrong with her?
“Are you okay?” Wyatt’s quiet voice managed to cut through the noise in her head, but she couldn’t answer him. And dammit, those were tears welling up in her eyes. She shuddered and shook her head, trying like hell to dislodge the knot in her throat.
“You want to get out of here?” His question was soft, the words only for her. There wasn’t anything remotely sexual in them. Nothing to beguile or persuade. There was only…concern.
A heartbeat passed. And then another.
He held out this hand, and with a small nod, she let Wyatt take hers. The two of them slipped through the crowd, and with his large, warm hand holding hers tightly, they didn’t stop until they reached his truck. Once there, she climbed inside, teeth chattering, eyes closed, and she didn’t say a word. Not when the truck roared to life. Or when he pulled out of the driveway. Or when they hit the open road.
She turned slightly, gaze on the full moon and the light it shed across the snow and frozen lake. Stars blanketed the night sky, a velvet canopy of diamonds, and they mesmerized her. So much so that she wasn’t aware the truck had come to a stop until Wyatt cleared his voice and spoke.
“Maybe I should have said something before bringing you out here.”
Blinking slowly, Regan turned and gazed out the windshield. Snow was piled up several feet on either side of the driveway, but the headlights showed it had been recently plowed, and a few feet away, a small cabin nestled against a stand of pine. In the distance, to the right, the lake spread out.
“Where are we?” she asked, sitting up straighter.
“The old Coleman resort. My brother Hudson bought it, and I’m staying in this cabin.”
“Yes,” she murmured. She’d heard that.
“I like it out here. It’s quiet. There’s nobody for miles.” He fiddled with his keys, a small crease between his eyebrows. “I just thought of your dog. This is probably a bad idea.”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, Bella’s with…” Her voice trailed off as she pictured Bella wrapped up in Patrick Bergen’s arms. “She’s with a friend.” She was aware Wyatt watched her closely, and her heart sped up.
“I can take you home.” He spoke quietly. “Just say the word.”
If she was smart, she’d tell Wyatt Blackwell to take her home. But Regan wasn’t feeling particularly smart tonight. In fact, she wasn’t altogether sure what it was she was feeling. The tiredness in her bones—it ached. And yet there was a flair of something inside her. Some small little flame that smoldered.
“I don’t want to be alone.” She whispered the words, not realizing she’d spoken them aloud for several seconds. “If that’s okay?” When she did, she tilted her head and met Wyatt’s gaze. The moment their eyes connected was like a punch to the gut. Mouth dry, she couldn’t look away.
“Totally okay.” He turned off the engine, and she slid from the truck. Wyatt waited for her, and, with his hand at the small of her back, he guided her up the steps and into the cabin.
It was one large room with a stone fireplace on one end, a kitchen on the other, and a dining area in between. There were two doors at the back, one for a bathroom, the other most likely a bedroom. The furniture was worn and old, a large plaid sofa, a faux leather chair in the corner, two end tables that looked like they were on their last legs, and an area rug that looked suspiciously as if rodents had gnawed on the ends.
She turned as Wyatt headed to the kitchen area. The cupboards were chipped white with blue trim, the countertop was a rust color that was faded in several spots, and the table only had three chairs. It looked retro, from the fifties, and she wandered over, fingers trailing across the cracked laminate top.
She’d not bothered to take off her boots, but then neither had Wyatt.
“This place is cute.”
He turned at her words and smiled. “It needs work. I told Hudson I’d tackle the other stuff as soon as I can, but I insisted he put in some decent appliances. They’re not new, but they’re twenty years younger than anything else in here.” He winked. “And they work.”
Wyatt opened a cupboard and reached inside. “You want some wine? I’ve got a stash of some good California red.”
“Sure,” she said slowly. “I didn’t really picture you as a wine kind of guy.”
“I’m full of surprises.” Wyatt grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and opened a bottle of wine. He offered one of the glasses to Regan. “Here’s to learning new things about each other.” He took off his jacket. “You hungry?” he asked.
