Page 74 of Almost Perfect
“Hi, Sheridan. It’s nice to meet you.”
His whole body shifted and he stomped, then made a gusty snuffly sound. I pulled my hand back slowly, unsure if quick movements might freak him out but nervous about all the sound and movement.
“You’re fine. He’s happy.” Wyatt nuzzled his head against his horse’s. “Aren’t you? You’re a sap.”
The serious, particular Wyatt was a big softy when it came to his horse. It didn’t surprise me, now that I saw it, but it did stick a little arrow in my heart. The piercing pain of his sweetness, this big man with his horse, just about did me in.
“I can’t imagine what you were like with your dog if this is you with your horse.” But as soon as I said it, I realized how awful it might’ve sounded. “I didn’t mean that to be hurtful. I’m—”
“No, it’s fine. And you’re right. That dog had me wrapped around his little paw. It’s how I know I’ll be a pushover dad.”
And there it was. The catalyst for a thousand tiny wishes. To be with Wyatt. To see him with a new puppy. To see him with a baby—a son or daughter. To have a family of my own with someone so steady and kind that I could never doubt him.
I cleared my throat, the origami of those wishes unfolding and clogging my airway.
“If the smell is too much, you can wait in the truck. I just need a few minutes. Clayton does the grunt work, but I want to do a few things, if you don’t mind.”
“No, no it’s fine. Just a, a frog in my throat.”
* * *
The hours after our visit with Sheridan held shoveling walks and snow blowing, which I had to insist I could help with. Before anything, we tromped around the yard knocking off branches. Heavy snow continued to fall, and Wyatt said he liked to keep a few of the trees from getting too weighed down.
After that, we took a ride in his truck to plow the long road between the main canyon road and his driveway that he said county assets usually didn’t bother with since he had a plow attachment for his vehicle. He kept giving me outs, like I’d want to stay at my empty, cold house, or even at his lovely, warm one.
I found I had no desire to be anywhere but with him.
We stopped for lunch halfway through—a quick meal of sandwiches and canned tomato soup, which Wyatt apologized for at least three times. His embarrassment hit me right in the chest and made me feel all kinds of soft on him.
My feelings for the man had ballooned over the course of the day—well, over the course of every day since I’d arrived here. He was constantly aware of me and trying to help me—offering a hand into and out of the truck, steadying me when I nearly fell over while shoveling, checking my hands for blisters.
That moment had made my heart flutter so fast. I’d thought it’d flatline. We’d shoveled the porches of both houses and the deck of his house. Not a ton of work, but my hands weren’t used to the friction of the movement. A sore spot I’d had before today intensified, and he noticed my wince when removing my gloves after we stopped for the afternoon.
I tried to act nonchalant about it—truly, it wasn’t a huge deal. But he grabbed my wrist in his warm, dry hand and held mine cradled in his. He brushed his thumb over a red spot on my palm. Brow furrowed, he frowned as he said, “I shouldn’t have let you shovel so long.”
“I would’ve stopped if I needed to.”
“Still.”
I closed my hand so he couldn’t see the irritated skin, and he hit me with a look that sent my stomach through the floor, right down to the frozen earth below us. Something protective and almost possessive lay there, like I was his to guard and feed and care for. Nothing threatening, only offended on behalf of my hand and determined to right the wrong.
No one had ever,everlooked at me like that.
Like they cared about a blister because it was part ofme,and their care for me bled over into every action. Like they wanted to keep me from all future harm and mend the hurt any way they could.
I swallowed thickly. “I’m just fine. It’s nothing.”
“Let me know if it bothers you. Fresh air’s probably best, but if it gets worse or hurts, please tell me.”
The pleading in his voice was genuine, and I couldn’t be too annoyed at his overbearing reaction. Sometimes, people fawned over something like this, but it never happened because of me. It always came from their concern over their job being in jeopardy, like I’d sue someone or get them fired if I twisted an ankle on their stage or got a paper cut at their conference table. Or they wanted my help, so they’d decided to help me.
Wyatt? He was genuinely bothered. Maybe by some sense, he’d transgressed by having a role in my silly little blister, but more so, it felt like, because he didn’t want me to have any discomfort.
My opposite hand found its way to his cheek. I loved the rasp of his beard on my palm. “Thank you for your concern. I promise I’ll tell you if it gets worse.”
His gaze swept over my face in a look both hungry and cherishing. “Good.”
My heart sprinted and I leaned closer, tipping my chin up without looking away from his gorgeous blue eyes. Pure desire twisted in my belly.
