She is probably sick of having to hide out or feeling like she needs to. I’m going to put a stop to that real quick, but for right now all I can fix is the more immediate problem.
“I’ll bring you coffee in the morning, before I take the kids to school. Sound good?”
She gets out, turning back for her purse and winding it around her. “That would be incredible. Thank you.” She closes the door and walks up to Wyatt’s cabin, using his spare key to let herself in. She sends me a last wave before the door closes.
I back out and drive the short distance to my place. I text Wyatt and tell him to make sure everyone in town knows that Tenley is not to be fucked with. As much as I’d like to be her knight in shining armor and relay the message myself, Wyatt is the better person for the job.
Wes told me to be honest with myself. And,honestly, I like Tenley, but I also can’t fully grasp the concept that it’s okay for me to like her.
It feels like a betrayal to a life that is no longer mine.
15
Tenley
As promised,Warner is at my door (Wyatt’s door?) with coffee. It’s in a tall stainless steel carafe, and I can smell it even with the top securely fastened.
I step back from the open door, ushering him inside. He brings the chilly morning air in with him, swirling around my bare legs as he passes. I shudder and nudge the door closed with my foot.
Warner walks straight for the kitchen, setting the carafe on the table and removing two cups from a cabinet. It’s clear he knows this kitchen, and his familiarity makes me think of my own kitchen in my own home. Where, presumably, my underwear still sits in my drawer, not stolen by some unknown person doing God knows what with it.
“Were you awake already?” Warner asks, his eyes on my hair.
“Yes,” I lie, my hand smoothing the hair at the back of my head. It’s lumpy and wild, I can tell just by running my palm over it.
Warner smirks, somehow knowing I’ve just fibbed. He pushes a cup across the table from where he sits. He’s wearing a zip-up hoodie sweatshirt and jeans, and his hair has been combed.
I snag a throw blanket from the back of the couch, and drape it over my shoulders like a cape, then settle at the table. My fingers wrap around the mug, absorbing its warmth.
“Good morning,” I say, after I’ve taken my first sip.
Warner grins. “Good morning.”
He doesn’t say anything else, just sips his coffee, and I’m okay with that. I need this jolt of caffeine before I can converse. Each time I’m around him feels more intense than the last, teeming with growing emotions, feelings that ebb and bend.
He’s pouring my second cup when he says, “Ready to ride today?”
I suck in a breath, my brain automatically going to our ride almost a week ago, and the antelope, and the kiss.The kiss. The kind of kiss they ask for at the end of the movie, the one where the main characters have realized they love one another at all costs, the kind of kiss that needs multiple takes to get right.
Or just one, with Warner. When it’s genuine.
I clear my throat and lean back in my seat, propping my foot on the empty chair to my right. All movements meant to make me look like I’m chill. Nonchalant.
I look at Warner, but his gaze isn’t on me. I watch his eyes sweep over the entirety of my leg, from the hem of my sleep shorts to the tips of my toes, then looks away.
Friends, my ass.
I’m too old to play games, but for Warner this isn’t a game. These are the first timid steps, a shaky confidence on unstable feet. I won’t push him. If he wants me, he can come for me. The decision must be his. I can, however, stop putting up a fuss about learning to ride a horse.
“You just tell me where to be and when, and I’ll be there,” I nod my head and pretend to touch the brim of my nonexistent cowboy hat.
A smile plays at the corner of his mouth. His face is a touch darker than yesterday, the product of a missed shave. “Nine o’clock. Meet me at the stable.” He drains his coffee and rises from his seat. He takes his carafe, removes the glass coffee pot from Wyatt’s countertop coffee maker, and pours the remaining coffee into it. He flicks on the Warm button and replaces the pot on the burner.
“Wouldn’t want you under-caffeinated,” he says with a wink. “See you out there.”
He walks to the front door, then pivots as if he has remembered something. “Wear jeans,” he instructs, his gaze dusting my bare legs again, but much faster this time. Then he walks out, leaving me behind with the coffee and my feelings.
***
