Page 67 of Live, Ranch, Love

Aurora

The sound of chirping birds and soft piano keys wake me with a smile on my face. Tapping my phone alarm off, I roll over to where Wyatt’s shoved his head under the pillow and lets out an enormously loud groan.

Wyatt Hensley stayed the night in my bed. Again.

What is happening?

“Five more hours,” he grumbles when I try to pull the pillow away, giggling. In his defence, we did exert a lot of energy late into the night, and definitely did not get the eight hours of sleep I had originally planned for. Though, I got plenty of stress relief in a different way, so I think I’ll survive today.

“You’re a rancher, you get up early all the time, why are you being such a baby?” I finally manage to rip the pillow from him and toss it to the bottom of the bed. He tears his head around, dark eyes leering at me beneath the messy curls that have flopped over his forehead. I swallow with anticipation.

But tiredness makes his eyes flutter closed again and he puckers his lips. “You can’t call me a baby when you’re younger than me, and the height of a twelve year old.”

“Oh, shut up and go back to sleep.” I give him a playful shove and sit up, reaching for my phone out of instinct because listening to my meditation would usually be the first step of my morning routine. Except… I’ve got a naked man in my bed.

“Um… I’m gonna pop downstairs for a bit.”

Wyatt twitches, his eyes shooting open as he reaches for my thigh before I can slip out the bed. “Why?”

His thumb brushes over my skin, edging faintly higher up my leg after every few strokes. I have to close my eyes to try and force the already searing desire coiling within my core from his touch. Any other morning and I’d allow it, but today is too important.

Our first guests arrives today.

“Uh, I like to meditate in the morning, and I’m pretty nervous about today, so I’m gonna need to do a long one. But you can stay up here, I’ll come back once I’m done.”

Shuffling about, Wyatt sits up, letting the covers pool around his hips so that his rugged torso is on full display. I inch closer and run my fingers across his chest, tracing the edges of the eagle.

“Do you usually do your meditations downstairs?” he asks, covering my hand with his so it rests against his chest, eyes dotting across my freckles.

“No… I normally do them in bed.”

“Then stay up here and do it,” he suggests, and rolls his lips. “Maybe I could, um, do it with you?”

I can’t stop from laughing, which sounds much more like a howl if I’m honest. I have to wrench my hand away to cover my mouth.

I know I showed him how to meditate briefly before, but he seemed so uncomfortable with the experience, I thought he’d never want to try it again. It is Wyatt Hensley we’re talking about, after all.

“What?” Wyatt’s features cave in and he crosses his arms, like a toddler who’s had his favourite toy confiscated. God, he’s so funny, my cheeks are aching from smiling. “Maybe I’m nervous too.”

“Why would you be nervous about today?”

“Because you’re forcing me to let six random people on my precious ranch and you’re probably expecting me to talk to them when I usually reserve Sundays for silence only. Although,” he gives me a lopsided grin, “you moaning my name is allowed any day.”

I snort. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Whatever.” He shrugs, dropping his arms so he can reach for my hands. “I should probably make an effort to do more of this wellness stuff now that we’re doing the retreat. Besides, if it’s important to you then… well, I’d like to be a part of it.”

I’m not sure my cheeks can take it when my smile widens even further. I’ve never had a guy want to meditate with me before. It’s never bothered me because I don’t expect other people to believe in everything I do. But the fact that it’s Wyatt, who seemed so repulsed by all my wellness practices when we first met, well that just feels extraordinary. It makes me feel… worthy.

Nodding, I bite my lip and search through my meditation app for a session on reducing anxiety and building confidence. Meanwhile, Wyatt props up the pillows so we can sit back against them.

Studying me as I get into a crossed-legged position, hands slack on my knees, he then mirrors my stance, relaxing back.

“The meditation is a guided one, so just close your eyes and follow what it tells you to do,” I explain, quickly pressing play to let the soothing music begin. Just as I lean back and take in a relaxing breath, Wyatt threads his fingers between mine, my skin responding with sparks and gooseflesh.

If it’s important to you then… well, I’d like to be a part of it.

As the meditation plays, I struggle to focus, those words of Wyatt’s ringing through my mind every time I manage to quieten it. But knowing Wyatt is here with me, along for the ride of whatever my current path will bring, seems to anchor me more than any meditation has. One day, I’ll get all my self-belief and strength back, but until then, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let him hold my hand along the way.

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