Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“It’s the best thing.” I gulp my wine and set the glass on the table, rising. “What can I help you with?”
Wyatt just shakes his head. “I got it. Sit your ass down and eat.”
“You sure?”
Wyatt grabs an oven mitt off the counter. “I know what I’m doing—I think.”
“I’m going to have sex with you even if you don’t.”
“I know.” He smirks again as he bends down and opens the oven, all cowboy cockiness in his jeans and belt buckle and button-up.
He’s a cowboy who cooks.
I drink my wine, and I eat delicious cheese, and I watch Wyatt do his thing. He cracks a dirty joke as he tosses the salad. Gives the pot of mashed potatoes on the stove a stir. He places silverware on the table, and when he comes over to nibble on the charcuterie, I’ve already got a cracker ready for him. It’s loaded with mortadella, a smear of creamy blue cheese, and a drizzle of local honey.
“Open,” I say.
The smirk is back. “Yes ma’am.”
I pop the cracker into his mouth, and he falls onto the couch beside me with an exaggerated moan.
“Okay, Mollie really knew what she was talking about when it came to this charcuterie business.”
“Of course she did. Crazy how much she’s shaken up things around here. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always loved hanging with y’all on the ranch. But now that Mollie’s in the picture, there’s so many exciting things happening.”
“Lots of great progress for sure,” Wyatt says.
“You have to be so, so proud of the work y’all are doing.”
Wyatt nods, sipping his wine. “I am. I’m proud of a lot of things happening right now.”
He meets my eyes, and my pulse thunders.
We sit and nibble and chat about everything and nothing. I get a yummy little buzz from the wine and an even bigger buzz from the playful, easy way Wyatt touches me. He puts a hand on my thigh. Wipes a crumb from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. Kneads my calf when I complain about a muscle I pulled there.
An hour goes by in the blink of an eye, and suddenly, the timer on Wyatt’s phone is going off.
“That’ll be dinner.” He gives my calf one last firm squeeze, making my blood jump. “Let me just get the pot roast out of the oven—”
“How about I help make up our plates? And I’ll refill the wine.”
“I want you to relax, Sal.”
“I want to help. Let me. It’ll be fun being in the kitchen together, mostly because it’ll give me a chance to grope you.”
He wags his brows. “I like it when you grope me.”
“Aw, handsome, I like it when you grope me too.”
The kitchen is small, and we keep bumping into each other as we open drawers and reach for cabinets.
“Sorry,” Wyatt says when his hand grazes my breasts as he grabs a wooden spoon. “Wait. No, I’m not.”
My hand finds his ass as I’m reaching for the box of matches by the sink. “How inappropriate of me.”
His hand slips between my legs as I’m lighting the candles, his middle finger trailing over the center seam of my jeans. My breath catches.
Wyatt grins. “Very inappropriate.”
“The most inappropriate.”
“I should probably stop now.”
“You probably should.”
He presses his finger against me, right where my clit is, and I see stars.
“Remind me why we’re doing dinner first?”
“Because you said we were?” I’m panting.
A muscle in his jaw tics. “Gonna be a long night. You need your strength, Sunshine. Let’s eat.”
He pulls out my chair, and I stare at him for a full beat.
“What?” His voice is gruff. “Mollie trained me well. I asked her to show me how to be a good boyfriend, and, well, now I’m a fucking great boyfriend, aren’t I?”
He’s so cocky I can’t stand it.
So cute that I cannot freaking stand it.
He called himself my boyfriend.
My heart skips several beats as that sinks in. I love, love the idea of being his girlfriend.
I swipe my index finger over his mouth. “You’ve been taking lessons too, huh?”
“I got a lot to learn,” he says, eyes flickering.
I sit, and he pushes my chair in.
I look down at the plate of beautiful food in front of me. Look up at the beautiful man across from me.
Best night of my life? Possibly.
Best date I’ve been on? Absolutely.
“You know who you remind me of tonight?” I place the cloth napkin—a cloth napkin!—on my lap. “Your mom.”
I didn’t intend to bring up Betsy Rivers. It’s clearly a touchy subject for Wyatt. But I feel like he’ll appreciate the compliment.
Maybe—just maybe—he’ll open up a little more.
Wyatt glances at me as he picks up his fork. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. She was always in the kitchen making something for y’all. I remember her putting on her apron and turning on that little speaker she had—”
“The pink one, shaped like a gigantic pill.” Wyatt laughs and shovels a forkful of pot roast into his mouth. “Good memory.”