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He lifted his glass and swallowed it down in one gulp. “I’ll be back.”
He pushed away from the table and stood, turning and seeing Lindy standing there. And it was like someone had put their fist through his stomach, grabbed hold of his internal organs and twisted hard.
It reminded him of that first time. But then, every time he saw her it reminded him of the first time.
He gritted his teeth and began walking toward her. And he knew the moment she saw him. Her eyes didn’t meet his, no. And she very resolutely did not look in his direction. But she knew that he was there. He could see it. In the way that her shoulders suddenly went stiff, in the way that her whole body got ramrod straight. To the casual observer it might look like she simply had a neutral expression on her face. One that hadn’t changed in the past ten seconds. But he was not a casual observer.
No, her face had changed too. There was a firmness to the corners of her mouth. Intent. The absence of a smile or frown, totally and completely purposeful.
“You didn’t respond to my email,” he said. “I’m wounded.”
She tilted her head slightly, looking up at him. Then, she faked surprise. As if she truly hadn’t realized he was there until right then.
That shouldn’t get him hot. Nothing about her should get him hot. But everything did. Everything damn well did.
“Sorry. Were you expecting a same-day response? I didn’t think that you engaged with such newfangled technology all that often.”
“Nice to see you too.”
“Right.”
He grinned. “Most people would say that it was also nice to see me. That’s manners, Melinda.”
The light behind her eyes indicated that she wanted very much to tear his throat out. But her expression betrayed that not at all. “We didn’t go over how to handle infuriating cowboys in deportment.”
She hated it when he called her Melinda. He knew that. He also loved saying it. Because no one else did. It put him in the mind of other things he might do to her that no one else was currently doing.
Unless he had the read of it wrong. Maybe she had a different lover every night. It was possible, for all he knew.
Just because his balls were all bound up in wanting her, didn’t mean her body was similarly bound up in wanting him.
“Now that’s a shame,” he said. “How are you supposed to go on if you don’t know whether or not you’re supposed to hold your pinkie out when you tell me to go fuck myself.”
“Oh, I know which finger to hold up when I tell you that, Wyatt Dodge. Don’t you worry about that.”
“What brings you out here tonight?”
A moment later, his question was answered when in came her brother, and a friend of his from the rodeo, Dane Parker. Followed by her former sister-in-law Beatrix Leighton.
“They were parking,” Lindy said, by way of explanation. “I mean. They were parking the truck. They weren’t out parking.”
That made him think of all the things he might be able to accomplish if Lindy went parking with him.
Yet again, he felt like he was back in high school.
He really did resent that.
“Dane,” he said, reaching around Lindy to offer his hand to the other man. “Didn’t know you were going to be in town.”
“I live to be a surprise. Lindy mentioned that you might have a job for me coming up in a few weeks.”
“If by job you mean being unpaid entertainment for a mob of people. Yes.”
“For the big launch event for Get Out of Dodge?” Dane asked.
“Yes. But, it benefits Grassroots Winery too,” Wyatt put in. “You know, since we have such a cozy partnership now.”
Lindy’s perfectly placid expression slipped. Just for a moment. “Right. I guess we’d better go find a table.”
“There’s one right next to us,” he said, because the hell if he was going to let her avoid him. The hell if he was going to sit in the same bar as her and let her pretend he wasn’t here. The hell he was going to spend all night trying not to look over at her.
“Thanks,” Bea said, her tone bright. Dane thanked him too, both of them clearly oblivious to the fact that Lindy wanted to scream.
Wyatt led the way back over to his table, and he ignored Grant’s assessing gaze. It didn’t escape Wyatt’s notice that Lindy took the seat at the table that put her farthest away from him.
A moment later Jamie reappeared, smiling broadly when she saw the new additions. “Bea,” she said, sliding her chair over slightly and putting herself next to her. “Good to see you.”
It surprised Wyatt that Bea and Jamie were friends. Though, they were the same age. Just about. But still, Bea was softer, fine-boned and possessing the femininity of a vaguely feral fairy. Jamie was tall, no-nonsense and, as far as Wyatt knew, resolutely allergic to dresses.
Bea started talking with broad hand gestures about some of the animals she had cared for at the clinic today, and suddenly Wyatt understood the connection. Animals. Jamie had practically been born in the saddle. Horses were her passion. And Bea seemed to like anything with four legs.
“I’m going to get a drink,” Lindy said.
“I’ll go with you,” he said.
He ignored the look earned from Grant as he and Lindy walked toward the bar.
“Let me ask you a question,” Lindy said. “Do you try to get on my nerves?”
“To be perfectly honest with you, angel, I don’t have to try. You make it too easy.”
“So you were that boy.”
“What boy?” he asked, as the two of them sidled up to the bar. Lindy pressed her delicate hands down on that scarred wooden countertop, and he pressed his down alongside hers.
For a moment, all he could do was stare at the contrast the two of them made. Her smooth hands, with long, fine-boned fingers, not a single scar to be seen. His own, weathered, with more than a few chunks taken from them.
If he were to take hold of her, his hand would cover hers entirely.
If he were to pull her up against his body, the contrast would be much the same. Soft. Hard. Smooth. Weathered.
“The one that pulled pigtails,” she said, not looking at him when she spoke.
Something stirred inside of him, and he just couldn’t stop himself from saying what he said next. “I still pull pigtails,” he said. “If the lady asks me nicely.”
She looked at him, a cautious expression in her blue eyes. Like she was about to give the answer to a math problem she’d done in her head, and wasn’t entirely certain of. “I doubt that’s ever happened.”
“Sure it has.” He grinned and waited. For her to get mad. For her to blush. Something.
Except, now he was going to end up thinking about that for far too long. Usually, she met him barb for barb. But this particular innuendo didn’t seem to resonate. Maybe that was because she wasn’t standing there mired in sexual tension. Maybe it was because she didn’t think of him that way.
But it might just speak to other things. Inexperience he wouldn’t have thought a woman who’d been married for a decade could possibly have.
That forced him to wonder. To wonder about her marriage, which he shouldn’t do. Especially because she had been married to a man that he considered a casual friend.
“Whatever, Wyatt. I want a drink, not more of your inane commentary.” She turned away from him, clearly frustrated by that interaction. Maybe because she hadn’t managed to verbally maneuver her way to the top of it. “Hi, Laz,” she said as the bartender approached them. “I’d like an IPA.”
“An IPA,” he said. “Wow.”
“Do you have a commentary on my choice of beer?” she asked as Laz turned and retrieved a bottle for her.
“I made my commentary.” He turned his attention to the bartender. “I’ll have whatever you’ve got on tap that isn’t an IPA.”
“I imagine you have opinions on the masculinity of that beer?”
“Not particularly. I didn’t ever figure beer had a gender.”
“You know what I mean,” she said.
“I just think it’s bad beer. And if I wanted to lick a pine tree I would.”
“I would almost pay good money to watch you do a wine tasting.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I imagine that your palate is as unsophisticated as the rest of you.”
He chuckled. “And I imagine you think that’s an insult. But, in order for me to feel insulted by that I would have to care.”
“Thank you,” she said to Laz, ignoring him completely.
“You can put her terrible drink on my tab too,” Wyatt said, turning away from the bar.
“Don’t put my drink on your tab,” Lindy said. “Don’t put my drink on his tab,” she said to Laz.
“Put the drink on my tab,” Wyatt reiterated.
“I’ll pay for the drink if you don’t knock it off,” Laz said.
“I can pay for the drink,” Lindy said, through gritted teeth. “Put his drink on my tab.”
“This isn’t a contest,” he said.
“I’m not a charity case,” Lindy said. “We are in a business partnership.”
“I wasn’t treating you like a charity case. I was just going to pay for your drink.”
She lifted her chin, her expression defiant. “And I don’t need you to.”
“I’m not really sure why you’re intent on making all of this a battle. We’re working together, remember?”
“I know,” she said, but she sounded slightly more subdued than she had a moment ago.
“I swear, I enjoy getting on your nerves, but I’m not actively trying to start a fight with you.”
She looked skeptical. “Is there a difference?”
“Yes. I like to tease you. I don’t actually want to make it so the two of us can’t have a conversation.”
“I don’t like to be teased,” she said, looking at him from beneath blond lashes.
She looked younger right then. He didn’t know why. It made him want to be nicer. To try to be a little bit more sincere.
“That’s going to be a problem,” he said. “Because I am what I am.”
“I didn’t sign on to be teased,” she said. “I just want to make this work.”
The two of them stepped away from the bar, but didn’t head back to the tables. “So let me ask you this,” he said, a thought occurring to him for the first time. “Did you approach me to make this partnership to get back at Damien?”
Her expression turned mulish. “Why would you think that?”
“Because. He’s my friend. You’re his ex-wife.”
“Do you really consider him a friend?”
Wyatt shrugged. “I’ll be honest with you, I haven’t talked to him in a couple of months. I’m not part of the rodeo circuit anymore, so we’re not really running in the same circles. Some people you hang out with mostly because of the proximity. Not because you choose to. And I’d be lying if I said his behavior during the end of your marriage didn’t impact my opinion of him.”
She blinked. “Really?”
“Yes. What he did was a jerk move.”
She frowned. “I wouldn’t have thought you would care much either way.”
“Turns out I do.” He let out slow breath. “Fact of the matter is, I’ve never done commitment. But hey, maybe that’s because I know myself well enough to know I’m not cut out for it. I figure if a man makes vows he ought to keep them.”
“So, you think he’s a jerk?” she asked, her fingers shifting over the bottle of beer, making him think of what it would be like to have those fingers on him.
“Oh, honey, I know he’s a jerk,” Wyatt said.
“Well, that’s mildly placating, I have to say.”
“I’m a lot of things, Lindy,” he said, not using her full name, seeking as much of a truce as they could continue to have. “But I’m a man of my word. That means I don’t give it very often. But a man only has his word, as far as I’m concerned, when all is said and done. If I can’t promise something, I don’t. That means I have no respect for a man who can’t do the same.”
She narrowed her eyes, her blue gaze roaming over his face as if she was seeing him for the first time. “I value that in a business partner. It has to be said.”
“Good. I can’t promise that I’m not going to irritate you after this, you understand that, right?”
“Now you’re forcing me to respect that. Since you’re refusing to say something just to placate me, and you’re standing by that honesty thing.” She sighed, as if she was intensely aggrieved. “But, I guess I have to accept that, don’t I?”
