Cold rolled through me. “So someone was here.”
“Looks like it.”
“Perfect. Just fucking perfect.”
He stood again, his posture shifting in a way that made my skin prickle. Guarded. Ready.
“What else happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Tessa.”
“I said nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
“Stop assuming you know everything.”
“Then tell me.”
My throat tightened as I looked away. “I didn’t see anything last night.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I swallowed as he closed the last bit of space between us.
“I’m not here to fight you. I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“I don’t need?—”
“You do,” he cut.
My temper finally snapped. “I don’t want you playing protector or sheriff or whatever the hell this is.”
His jaw flexed. “What I’m doing is making sure you don’t get hurt.”
“That’s not your job.”
“Then whose is it?”
The question hit me hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. I turned away, blinking fast. “I can handle myself.”
“Bullshit.”
I spun back on him. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he said, his voice dropping rough and entirely too intimate. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
“That’s exactly what I have to do with you.”
He lifted his hand slowly and brushed a streak of mud from my cheek. The moment his skin touched mine, heat exploded under my ribs. My breath hitched. His eyes dropped straight to my mouth.
“Wyatt,” I whispered.
“Yeah?” he murmured.
“This is a bad idea.”
