Page 54 of Live, Ranch, Love

“Because you clearly don’t trust my judgement, and that hurts.” He shrugs, and then has the audacity to drink some of the smoothie, watching me with dark eyes and a crooked smile.

Afterwards, he licks his lips, and I have to look away before I’m hit with memories I really don’t need right now. I’ll definitely have to leave out any mention of my stupid feelings for the head rancher in the book, that’s for certain.

Chapter Four: How I Became Embarrassingly Desperate for the Cowboy Who was Still in Love with His Ex.

“I’ve told you multiple times that I believe in you and this retreat.” Wyatt leans forward, resting his hands achingly close to mine.

His little finger gently brushes against my knuckles, and I have to suppress a shiver. I hate that I want so much more of his touch than this.

“If your publishers want you to write about it, then they clearly believe in it too. And I just know that if Grace were here, she’d be cheering you on.”

My chest constricts. Wyatt’s eyes dart between mine, as if searching for my thoughts, and his fingers reach out, resting on top of my hands. Calm begins to slowly flood my body, and once again, he’s saving me from my self-doubt. How long will it take for me to be strong enough to save myself?

Regardless, he’s right. Auntie Grace wouldn’t let me second-guess this book idea. She’d already be marching down the street announcing to everyone about it.

What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?

I’d start a retreat on a run-down ranch. And then I’d write a goddamn book about it. That’s what I’d do. Just like how Auntie Grace gave up her job to run a ranch, as if she knew it would be worth it.

I just need to find that same belief she had.

“You know she told me something once, before I went off to college,” Wyatt begins again, voice rumbling with warmth. There’s a faint curve to his lips, eyes sparkling with memories. I forget how much time he must have spent with her as well.

“She said that sometimes the hardest thing we can do is trust blindly in who we are. I think she knew even before me that I’d end up wanting to leave everything for the ranch. And honestly, those words helped me make that decision, which, despite everything, was still the best decision I ever made.”

“Because you got to meet me, obviously,” I jest, pushing out a smile and a wink.

Wyatt scoffs, eyes rolling, but still says, “Obviously.”

Our eyes lock and linger for a few tender beats. The constant buzz of the café around us has disappeared, and all I can focus on is where he’s harbouring my hands. Where my skin tingles in response to his touch. Where I feel like I’ll always be safe.

“So...” Wyatt pulls away, and all the surrounding noise rushes in—the whir of the coffee machine, the clink of cups, and the soft chatter of the customers. Wyatt finally hands me back my smoothie. “I’m gonna need you to start trusting in yourself, please. All these goddamn DMCs are ruining the whole cool, unemotional reputation I’ve got going.”

Right, and if I’m not careful, all these DMCs full of locked eyes and stolen touches are going to make me fall for him. Hard.

twenty-two

Aurora

Hearty laughter, the clatter of cutlery against bowls, and eager conversation fills the open dining room. Early evening sunlight shimmers through the large glass panes, casting everything in a soft honey glow. The warmth of family surrounds us, and I drink down the sense of tenderness and connection as Malia—Wyatt’s mother—gushes about Hunter’s upcoming tour with evident pride.

I can immediately see where Wyatt gets his caring streak from based on the way Malia pours over her children with raw affection. The same quiet, brooding energy Wyatt usually emits is mirrored in his father, Beau, too. I wonder who he got his cooking skills from though, because the chilli con carne he made us tonight is bloody delicious. I’m already on my second helping.

The whole evening reminds me of dinners with Auntie Grace—especially when my parents were visiting too. Almost every night would bleed into the early hours of the morning, everyone too blissfully unaware of passing time, encapsulated by the conversation. Smiles and laughter have a funny way of drowning out the ticking of clocks.

“Oh, Wyatt, I almost forgot,” Malia adds on. “I bumped into Holly and her mother the other day in the grocery store.”

Wyatt tenses and glances at me across the table, quickly shovelling some chilli down.

“Oh nice,” he basically grunts through his mouthful. It’s not hard to notice how rigid he’s gone. Shoulders hunched. I remember that his parents gave him a hard time for his career choice, but I wonder what they thought when Holly left him.

Under the table, I shuffle my foot along and find his. He starts a little, then moves his leg forward, letting me stroke my foot up and down his shin for comfort. I half-expected him to pull away, just like he did last night when he was grasping my hips and all I could think about was how badly I wanted his hands over all of me.

But it’s fine. I’m over it.

We’re just friends.

And he’s so closed usually, yet I was lucky enough to be let into that healing part of his life for some crazy reason, so the least I can do is support him on it. Show him that I’m here for him, like he did for me earlier in the café.

---