Page 46 of Live, Ranch, Love

“Oh yeah, I’ve got Pinky to look after me anyway.”

“Pinky?”

Her cheeks flush and her eyes widen. “Um, yeah Pinky is my… bedtime toy.”

Of course she has a fucking teddy bear. It wouldn’t even surprise me if she’s one of these adults with twenty stuffed toys in her bed, or all lined up on shelves.

“Right…” I narrow my eyes. “Drink some water, sleep well.”

“Will do! Night, Wyatt!” And with that she closes the door.

I’m shaking my head again, trying to comprehend everything that has happened tonight as I jump back in the truck to drive it up to mine. Before I go though, I take out my phone. Old Wyatt would pull up that text from Holly and lament over it. Wonder if it really was good to see me, or if that comment is laced with the usual pity she seems to look at me with.

But instead, I’m going straight to Instagram and looking at that photo of me and Aurora, where she’s tagged herself and captioned it LIVE LAUGH LOVE <3. I cringe over the amount of people that have already seen it and might think I chose that caption myself.

Yet it doesn’t really bother me, because truthfully I can’t stop rewatching the story, staring at how fucking good Aurora and I look together. Remembering how amazing that kiss was. Wondering if that manifestation stuff she talks about really works, because if it does, I’m going to be imagining us together a lot.

nineteen

Aurora

Leaning my elbows against the counter, I watch Wyatt hang the painting of a lake up—the finishing touch for this guesthouse that Cherry picked out. I’m totally not checking out the way his back muscles shift under his thin T-shirt, though.

Because I promised myself I would try to fight these thoughts. The alarming reminders that make my skin burn like a bonfire. Like the lick of passion that ripped through me as his tongue slid against mine the other night. Or the solid press of his warm body, ensconcing me in his scent—

No, Aurora.

You’re trying to stop thinking about that.

Even if it has been playing on my mind all weekend, I have to remember that the kiss was fake. I was the one who instigated it, who did it to make Holly jealous, not because I actually like Wyatt that way.

I was just being drunk and reckless.

And I swear he’s been quieter with me ever since. I’ve clearly made him uncomfortable and need to set things right. To reinforce that we are friends—business partners mostly—and I’m not just planning on running around kissing him like that all the time. Because that would make our whole situation with managing the ranch and retreat together very awkward, especially so close to the first trial run.

Plus, he’s clearly not over his ex-girlfriend yet, which last Friday confirmed.

“Do you like it?” I ask, trying to fill the silence as Wyatt finally decides he’s got the painting hanging straight with a proud nod. He didn’t have to help with any of the decorations today—he always has plenty to do on the ranch—but he insisted.

“Yeah.” He turns, stretching to scratch the back of his head, gorgeous bicep flexing—no, it’s just a regular bicep that has no effect over me. God, I’m such a liar. “I’m just glad you don’t have Live, Laugh, Love banners all over the place.”

I roll my eyes. “Why do you hate that phrase so much?”

“I don’t know… it feels kinda reductive.”

“Yeah but that’s the point,” I chuckle. “How a successful life is about living well, laughing often, and loving much. I would’ve thought that matched your outlook pretty well Mr I Don’t Need a Fancy Job to Be Happy.”

Every inch of his face drops. Those dark eyes pierce into me, eyelids slightly narrowed in a way that has me swallowing. I hear his words from the other week run through my mind, Oh, I’ll find a way to ruin you, Princess. It takes a lot more willpower than I’d like to admit to stop myself from just getting down on my knees in front of him right now, hoping to hear exactly how he’d like to ruin me. Especially after experiencing the euphoria that kissing him gave me.

Bloody hell, I need a cold shower.

“Anyway… what are your plans for tonight?” I press on.

“Probably gonna get the bonfire going and read a book. You?”

“That’s so cute and wholesome,” I snicker, finding the image of Wyatt reading by a fire, maybe with a little blanket over him like I saw him with the other night, so contrasting to the dark, brooding impression he likes to give off.

“Cute and wholesome?” Wyatt angles his jaw, stalking towards the counter. Two hands land on the surface, making me shoot upright, still captured by his dark, challenging glare. His lips entertain a faint curve. “Two words every guy dreams of being called by a girl.”

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