"I'm hearing you," I tell her. Turning back to the sheriff, I ask if there are any other community service opportunities available. He folds his arms across his stomach and shakes his head back and forth slowly. "This is it for you, my friend."
I turn back to Jo. "Please, Jo?" Her eyes widen when I say her name, and not in a good way. She looks ready to rip my head off. "I promise you won't even know I'm there."
Jo unclenches her jaw. "Fine," she nearly spits the word.
Sheriff loudly claps his hands once, and both of us jump. "Good, good. Glad that worked out." He's obnoxiously proud of himself. "If you two don't mind, I have other problems that need solving, and I can only hope they go half as well as yours."
Jo stalks out of the office, and I follow, glancing at Shelby as I go. She already has her phone in her hand, no doubt texting Jo about everything she just overheard.
We get out front, the warm Arizona sunshine spilling over us, and Jo turns on me. "Just to clarify, I wasn't the one with the problem. In fact, all Sheriff Monroe did wascreatea problem for me." The air around her buzzes with her intensity.
I point back at myself. "I'm a problem?"
She says nothing, but her expression doesn't waver. "Be on time. Be sober. Be ready to work. Think you can handle all that?"
"What was that last one?" I mean it as a joke, something to lighten the mood between us because I'm uncomfortable with how much she hates me when I don't even know why, but her response tells me how unappreciated my attempt is.
"Don't fuck with me, Wyatt Hayden, or I will kick you off my ranch and you can have whatever alternative punishment you are surely deserving of."
Jo turns around, gets in her car, and drives off.
I stand there, stunned. I have somewhere to be, and still, it takes me nearly a full minute to be able to climb into my truck and drive.
I've never been told off like that by a woman. And, if I really think hard about it, I've never seen Jo exhibit that much emotion before.
5
Jo
18 monthsago
Now I understand it firsthand.
Coyote ugly.
Except Wyatt's about as far from ugly as it's possible to be. He's lying beside me in the hotel bed, that dark hair of his messy and sexy, one section dipping down over his forehead. The fancy, down-filled duvet comes up to the middle of his torso. He is hard muscle, rippled abs, generous and well-defined shoulders. His nose has a slight bump in the center, like it's been broken. Day-old scruff darkens his face.
My skin prickles at the thought of that scruff scraping along my body last night.
Which is why this is a coyote ugly situation. It won't be Wyatt's looks that'll make me gnaw off my own arm to slip out of his room undetected.
I'm afraid of what I'll see in his eyes when he wakes up and remembers what happened between us last night.
If I can just get out of his hotel room without waking him, I won't be here for his initial response. I can remain blissfully unaware of whether he thinks it was a happy accident that we ended up in bed together, or a colossal regret.
I've liked Wyatt Hayden for so long, I can't bear to watch.
Inch by brutal inch, I lift one section of my body off the bed. I'm sore from last night's sexual antics, so holding my various body parts aloft while I attempt this silent rising from the bed is painful. On tiptoe I gather my clothes, search for my bra and finally locate it on the lampshade of all places, and pull everything on, waiting to zip my jeans until I step into the hall.
I suck in a huge breath and sag against the wall. I made it.
I send a thank you to the man upstairs when I don't run into any of my friends in the halls, and slip into my own room as quietly as I left Wyatt's. I could use a few more hours of sleep, especially considering the two-hour drive we have back home to Sierra Grande, but I'm due down at breakfast in forty-five minutes. Last night, before all the cocktails took root in our bloodstream, we made reservations for the hotel's Sunday brunch. If it weren't fancy, and I hadn't put down a deposit just to reserve a table for a group as large as ours, I'd cancel. In total there are eleven of us. A few couples, the rest of us singles, and all of us have known each other since high school.
After a long hot shower, I dress and towel dry my hair, pausing to study myself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom. I don't look any different after last night, but everything inside me feels tilted. The world I knew yesterday is not the world I know today. I've waited years for Wyatt to notice me, no exaggeration.
Mercifully I didn't have to sit around watching him notice other women. As far as I can tell Wyatt doesn't date. At least not seriously. Maybe after last night that will change.
I'm the first to breakfast. Everyone trickles in, grimacing and making jokes about needing a little hair of the dog. I feel like shit too, but I'm holding on to a secret so delicious it overrides my hangover.
