They shoot me guilty looks, quickly brushing past me.
"Well? I don't have all night, and this isn't a motel. Get up and out of here," the sheriff spits out, motioning toward Wyatt.
"You bailed him out?" Jericho whines.
"What? No. He's not my client," I assert, assuring the sheriff I'm not paying for Wyatt.
He shakes his head. "I can't keep him if Danny isn't pressing charges. Even if he did the most damage."
I gape at him and open my mouth to argue.
Lorall adds, "Plus, his agent fired him. So no one's coming to help him but you."
My head snaps toward Wyatt, and I hate myself.
His low, dangerous voice curls around my chest, suffocating me with promises I vowed I'd never allow into my life again. "Appreciate the help, sugar." He lifts his cowboy hat higher, his gaze dark with arrogance and pupils blown wide with want.
I'm torn between falling into his seductive trap and strangling him with my bare hands.
He makes it worse when he sits up.
My heart pounds harder. I stare at his quads, straining against dirty denim. After several seconds too long, my gaze drifts below his belt buckle, and whispers of the past dance between my thighs.
He shifts off the bench. His cowboy boots slam the floor with authority, causing me to jump.
I redirect my attention to the sheriff. "I'm not responsible for him."
"No one said that, but he's as free as your riders," he reiterates.
"What's wrong, sugar? Afraid I'll get you in trouble?" Wyatt drawls, his question laced with the same teasing dare I fell for when I was too naive and inexperienced to understand what a man like him could do to a girl like me.
I need air.
I turn away from him, blinking hard. Then I march past my riders and burst into the office, directing an order at Jagger. "Let's go."
"Danny's not done counting. He's slow as molasses," he jabs.
"I don't care. Let's go," I reiterate louder, stomping out into the raging chill that refuses to choke out the inferno blazing inside me. I get into the truck, reach for the keys my brother left in the ignition, and take the deepest breaths I can.
Stop letting him affect you,I tell myself repeatedly, but it's asking for the impossible.
Memories of my first everything flood me, and Wyatt's involved in every one of them.
Jericho and Colt appear at my window.
Jericho knocks on it with his knuckles.
I roll down the glass. "We'll talk about this tomorrow."
Their expressions are filled with guilt.
Colt offers, "I hope we didn't ruin your Christmas."
I glare daggers at them.
An Uber pulls up to the curb.
They wait.
