"I've been busy meeting with roofers." My answer presses into his shoulder.
"Even at night?"
I bristle at the light admonishment. This is a new side to Jared, this possessiveness, and I don't care for it. "The noodles are probably boiling over." I step away from him and dart to the kitchen.
My mother didn't give me any good advice except for one piece, and it’s something that’s always stuck out to me."If it feels wrong, it probably is. And that, Jo, applies to just about everything in life."
Jared's reaction to Wyatt feels wrong. I can understand him feeling threatened, because Wyatt is the kind of person who could take a thin shred of insecurity and magnify it. But what Jared says and does after he feels that emotion is up to him. And he's not painting himself in a good light.
I finish the spaghetti while Jared leans against the counter in the kitchen and watches. We talk about his coworkers at the bank, about the scene Waylon Guthrie caused when he was drunk at the park yesterday, and the way the uprooted trees on High Street make it look like a grin with missing teeth. There's a tiny dip in conversation after the trees are mentioned, and I know it's because Jared is thinking about the storm.
Dinner is ready, and Jared opens the bottle of red wine I've set out on the table. He compliments the meal and raves about the homemade meatballs. I tell him about the general consensus of the roofers, and how it's going to sink me if I don't get an investor. "So I was wondering," I hesitate, swirling my spaghetti into a nest. "If you can tell me who that mystery businessman was who opened an account at the bank? Maybe he'd be interested?"
Jared swipes a napkin across his lips. "Sawyer Bennett."
"Sawyer Bennett," I repeat, letting the name roll around on my tongue. "Why does it sound familiar?"
Jared shrugs. "I think it's just one of those names, you know?"
I grab my wine, pressing the cool glass rim to my bottom lip. "Do you know where he's staying?"
"The Sierra." Jared leans back, pressing a hand to the top of his stomach. "But he did say he loves the blueberry muffins at The Bakery—"
"Duh," I interrupt, and Jared smiles knowingly. There isn't a person in this town who doesn't wait impatiently for the once-a-week delivery of the best blueberry muffins from a neighboring bakery in the town of Sugar Creek.
"Stake out The Bakery, and I bet you'll find Sawyer."
"How will I know it's him?"
Jared chuckles. "You'll know."
We finish eating, and Jared joins me in the cleanup. I'm washing the bowl I used to mix the meatballs when he brings up Wyatt.
"I know this is a sore spot for you, but I need to ask you something. It has to do with Wyatt."
I keep cleaning, making sure to wash the bowl twice because it housed raw meat. It's giving me a great excuse not to look at Jared for more than a cursory glance.
"Okay," I say.
Jared takes the bowl from me and rinses it, then places it on a dish towel beside the sink. He turns off the water, leaving me with soapy hands and the next dish in line to be cleaned. His move forces my gaze to meet his.
"Jo, I want you to fire Wyatt. I can tell he likes you, and I don't think it's good for our relationship."
I stare at him, absorbing his sentence. My eyes flicker over his straight nose, his long eyelashes, the tiny dot of a scar on his earlobe from the time he let his cousin pierce his ear with the help of an ice cube and an apple. It didn't go so well.
The idea that Wyatt likes me is absurd. Wyatt is a flirt. He blankets his charm on everyone in this town, with very few exceptions. I've lost count of the number of times I've seen him chatting up the two old women who sit outside Marigolds and gossip about the town.
I take a second dish towel from beside the sink, curling it around my fingers. "Wyatt's not a paid employee. I can't fire him."
"Great," Jared says quickly. "Makes it easier to let him go."
Irritation pricks at my shoulder blades. "I can't do that, Jared."
His voice hardens. "Why not?"
I'm not going to tell him about Wyatt's agreement with the sheriff, so I say, "Wyatt needs to help on the Circle B. And he's free labor, which you know I need more than ever right now. So please, just trust that I know what I'm doing."
"Have you seen the way he looks at you?"
