Eitherhe was going to murder me all the way out here or charm the pants right off me.
The navy-bluedoor was opened, but I still knocked as I stepped inside his domain. I pausedin the doorway, inhaling the scent of him in his house, and checking out thespacious layout.
Therewasn’t an abundance of decorations or anything hanging on the walls, but hisfurniture was rich, chocolate leather and he’d filled in all the right spacesso it didn’t look as though there was anything missing.
Hislamps, coffee table, and dining room setup were all a mixture of modern andmountain. It shouldn’t have gone together, but because it was Wyatt, it did.His aesthetic wasn’t accidental. This was his taste. This was him laid outbefore me in such a way that I felt like I was turning the pages to hisautobiography.
Hepoked his head out of a room I could see was the kitchen, a smile already onhis face. “Hey.”
Isuppressed a smile and shook my head at him. “I hope you got reservations. Thisplace looks packed.”
Hissmile stretched. “Don’t worry, I know the owner,” he assured me. He disappearedagain, and I took that as my cue to join him.
Toeingoff my shoes, I dropped my purse by the front door and closed it behind me. I walkedaround the corner and joined Wyatt in his real-life kitchen.
Itwasn’t terribly different fromLilou. His applianceswere all stainless steel and nearly as big as what we kept at the restaurant.His gas stovetop was gigantic and the copper hood over the top was one of thefew bright spots of color in the whole space. But somehow it worked.
Again,there was that strange mix of modern and mountain, but everything that wasmodern was state of the art, and everything that was mountain cabin felt cozyand warm.
“Youknow you should warn a girl before you invite her over to your super secludedcabin,” I said as I sidled up across the island from him while he chopped greenonions and cooked bacon. “So, she doesn’t assume you’re luring her to themiddle of nowhere because you’re secretly a serial killer.”
Helooked up at me and winked. “I didn’t want you to have the opportunity todecline.”
Mygaze strayed to his tattoos, the bird on his neck, delicate and dainty comparedto the hard, masculine design of him. I swallowed so loudly I was positive hecould hear me.
“That’sexactly what a serial killer would say.”
Helaughed and shook his head. “This once, try not to think the absolute worst ofme.”
Istuck out my lower lip and explained, “But I’ve been doing it for so long. It’slike an irreversible habit now.”
Hissmile warmed. “I have faith you can manage. We’re way past fighting now, Swift.We’ve finally gotten to the good stuff.”
Myeyebrow raised without my permission and my mouth blurted the dumbest question.“The good stuff?”
Heset his knife down and leaned into me. “This, Kaya. You and me. What’shappening between us. This is the good stuff.”
Istruggled to swallow again. How could he be this sweet? And this hot? And thistotally, one hundred percent amazing person. Even though I would deny all ofthis if asked in public.
Hewaggled his finger back and forth between us. “You don’t realize it yet. ButI’m telling you, woman, this is where it’s at.”
“Ibelieve you,” I said quickly. “I do know this is good.” And I did. It didn’t onlyfeel good in the carnal, greedy sense of the word. Although there was that.There was my lust and desire for him to touch and kiss me again, and do wicked,depraved things to my body again. And there was the infatuated good too. Thekind that made all of my thoughts revolve around him, and my fingers itch tocheck my phone constantly to see if he texted, and my heartbeat speed upwhenever he was around.
Butthen there was the deeper level of good. The wholeness of this, the healing inhim. There was a lightness to this attraction that I’d never experiencedbefore. My feelings for Wyatt didn’t feel heavy or weighted with impossibleexpectations. They were honest and genuine, fun and flirty, real and exciting.But most of all they weren’t holding me back. They weren’t… holding me underthem.
Hisgrin stretched across his face and my lungs forgot how to do their job. Myheart also decided to throw its hands in the air and quit. I mean, honestly,how was I supposed to function when he looked like that? It wasn’t fair. Andprobably the reason he was so much further along in his career than me.
Forreal, if I could smile like that I would probably have my own Food Network showby now.
“Yeah?”he asked me. The insecurity in his voice was like two defibrillation paddles tomy chest. All at once everything inside me kicked into high gear via hiselectric current.
“Yes,Wyatt. You’re the good stuff.”
“Mmm,”he hummed. “I like to hear that.”
Rollingmy eyes in a last-ditch effort to hold onto my heart, I changed the subject.“Okay, since you didn’t bring me out here to kill me, what can I help with?”
Hefocused on cracking eggs into a mixing bowl. “Uh-uh. I’m cooking for you thismorning, Ky. Sit down. Relax. But don’t try to lift a finger.”
