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Whatever it was, when she deemed him worthy to see the real her, it made him lose his ability to reason. He’d proposed spontaneously; married her within weeks of that proposal.
He should have signed the divorce papers at the same time and saved himself some trouble.
‘Where is Autumn?’ he asked, trying to get his mind off the memories. ‘I thought she’d be here.’
Not that he noticed anyone after he saw Summer.
‘She will be.’ Summer clenched her jaw, then relaxed it. Forcibly, he thought. ‘She’s putting the final touches on a cake for a wedding tomorrow. Then she’ll have to get it to the actual wedding, so she’ll only be here on Sunday. Conveniently,’ she added, distinctly softer than her other words.
For some reason, it amused him.
‘Pity.’
‘It is.’ She narrowed her eyes.
‘What?’
‘You’re using that dry tone that tells me you’re making fun of me.’
‘I’d never make fun of you.’
‘You did it again.’
‘Summer, I’m not responsible for the way you interpret my tone.’
He smiled easily at her, mostly because he knew she’d find it irritating. He really missed irritating her.
‘As obstinate as ever, I see.’
‘As sensitive as ever, I see.’
‘I am not—’ Summer broke off when his smile widened. ‘I should have tried harder to get out of this.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, not acknowledging her confirmation that she had tried to skip the event. ‘It would have saved you a lot of trouble.’
Her expression went blank, her eyes shifting to the doors of the dining hall they’d come out of before resting on him again.
‘Did you come out here specifically to annoy me, Wyatt?’
Since he couldn’t tell her the real reasons he’d followed her—he didn’t fully know what they were—Wyatt said, ‘I did. I’m happy to see I’m succeeding.’
She shook her head and looked up, and for the first time he noticed her hair wasn’t loose. Usually, she wore her curls wild and free; today, her hair was tied back into a stern bun. Sleek, sure, but tamed to within an inch of its life. It bothered him.
Or maybe what bothered him was the hunger that was restless in his body. As if his cells had been starved and were now being offered a feast. Which was, he supposed, not untrue. For two years, his eyes had been starved of the beauty of her face. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to sate their hunger, despite the anger; despite the hurt.
So he allowed them to sweep over the oval slope of her brown eyes; the curve of her cheekbones; the dusting of freckles on the skin of her cheeks. He let them check whether the slight scar at her temple was still there, and if her lips were still pink and full and perfect for kissing.
He stopped himself then, because thinking about kissing and Summer at the same time was taking it too far. The prickling of his body told him so, as did the way those pink, full lips of hers parted. Which made him realise his eyes had dropped to her lips and had stayed there. That he was now showing her his hunger; revealing to her his feasting.
Though he warned himself not to, his eyes lifted to hers, and their gazes locked. A stampede could have passed them, the animals hurling themselves off the edge of the cliff, and he wouldn’t have noticed. He would have just kept looking into Summer’s eyes. He would have kept trying to see if his tainted past had been worth sacrificing that pull between them, especially when it still seemed to be alive and kicking.
He stepped back at the unexpected thought. When he realised it took him closer to the cliff, he took a step to the side. In his current state, being close to anything that might put him at risk of falling wasn’t a good idea.
So run away from Summer, then, a voice in his head told him.
He swallowed.
