by Vivian Wood
And then there was the fact that Lucy wouldn't just let him do much of anything. He liked her spirit, but hated that it meant he was impotent against the coming threat to her life. Wyatt sighed. He'd just have to do the best he could, and be satisfied enough with that.
After checking on Lucy one last time, finding her deeply asleep and safe, Wyatt bunked himself down on her couch, checking emails and writing a few memos until he could barely keep his eyes open.
When he stretched out on the couch at last, exhausted beyond reason, doubts plagued him. He was just one man. He was fallible. How the hell was he ever going to keep his not-quite-mate safe?
Though sleep eventually overtook him, he had no answers to his impossible situation.
110
Eight
Lucy stood under the shower’s hot spray, wondering exactly how she’d ended up in this mess. She rolled her neck, trying to work out six days’ worth of strain, muscles knotting up as tension mounted between her and her new houseguest. She gritted her teeth, knowing that Wyatt was only a couple of hundred feet away, parked on the couch with a permanent scowl on his face.
For six days, he’d given her nothing but a wall of ice. His behavior perplexed her, because she could see the gleam of hunger in his eyes, see how tense he was as he watched her every move. Not to mention the possessiveness and lust she’d seen in him at the bar the other night. Lucy might have gone a long time without sex, but she hadn’t missed the full-on erection he’d sported as they danced together, bodies pressed close.
She’d woken the next morning to find herself nearly naked, tucked in her bed… but alone. When she entered the living room, she found Wyatt at work on his laptop, lips sealed tight. He didn’t engage with her except to answer a brief yes or no, or to explain for the tenth time why he refused to leave her side.
Lucy spent the next two days working through every possible scenario, trying to figure out how she could have misinterpreted the look in his eyes, or the way he’d held her in his arms, or the feel of his cock against her belly. She could’ve sworn that he looked at her, at HER alone, with such longing…
The equation gave her nothing but frustration, provided no solutions. Plainly put, Wyatt was carnally interested, but emotionally or morally opposed to… something. Lucy hadn’t figured out exactly what, yet.
She sighed and turned off the shower, stepping out and toweling off. She wrapped herself in her thick, fuzzy bathrobe. When she headed into the living room, she found Wyatt stretched out on the couch, an arm thrown over his eyes. She was a little surprised, since this was the first time in six days that she’d actually caught him resting. Every time she’d gotten ready to go to work or leave the hospital and head home, no matter what crazy hour of the day or night, Wyatt had been there to escort her. By now, he must be on the verge of exhaustion.
She paused at the foot of the couch, watching his chest move as he slept. He really was a perfect physical specimen, all broad shoulders and lean, muscular hips. Long arms and legs, lightly tanned skin, with a light dusting of dark hair on his forearms. Lying as he was, his white t-shirt rode up from his jeans, revealing a trail of hair leading down from his navel…
“You need something?”
Lucy jumped at the sound of Wyatt’s voice. He moved his arm, catching her fast in his piercing aquiline gaze, his voice deep and gravelly. The sound of it, the look in his eye… Heat stirred low in Lucy’s body, making her shift in place. Damn, she was really in need of some kind of release.
But with Wyatt sleeping on the other side of her bedroom wall, there was no way that Lucy could use her vibrator to ease her lust. And she had a hard time imagining Wyatt letting her go out to a bar, pick someone up, and… well, there was no possible scenario that Lucy could work out after that point. Bring someone home? Go to the guy’s place?
Her lips quirked up at the very idea.
“I’m so glad you’re amused,” Wyatt mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He really did look worn out.
“Why aren’t you putting the moves on me?” Lucy blurted out, blushing.
Wyatt frowned.
“I’m just here—” he started.
“As a guardian,” Lucy cut him off. “So you’ve said. But you’re here in my house, every single hour of the day. And I’m here, since you won’t let me go anywhere but work.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t go anywhere,” he corrected.
“You scowl and stomp around when I say I’m going to the grocery store,” Lucy pointed out. “That’s not my point, though we should talk about that, too.”
“I wasn’t aware that you had an actual point,” he said. Lucy fidgeted, noticing that Wyatt was scoping out her hideous pink bathrobe, a birthday present from Lexie.
“That you’re attracted to me, but you won’t act on it. I want to know why,” she said, crossing her arms.
“Am I?” he drawled, cocking her head.
“Yes.”
For the barest second, Lucy thought she saw a flicker of indecision on his face. Too soon, he gave her a bland smile and shrugged away her concerns.
“It’s not something that’s going to happen,” Wyatt informed her.
Lucy sucked in a breath, trying to mask the sting of rejection. She guessed that she’d half-expected that answer, but it still hurt a little.
“You could at least be nice to me. If you’re going to be around all the time indefinitely, we could at least be friendly.”
Wyatt’s gaze narrowed, suspicious.
“We’re friendly,” he said.
“Good,” Lucy said, running a hand through her wet curls. “Then we are going out tonight.”
“Absolutely not.” Wyatt rose from the couch, exuding dominance. He crossed his arms and gave her a dark look.
“Yes. Not a bar or a club, maybe. But dinner. I can’t stay in and order pizza for another night. I’m dying of boredom. I work the late shift tomorrow, so I can stay up past nine tonight.”
“Lucy…” he sighed.
“Don’t bother arguing. We’re going out to dinner, so… you know, maybe put on a nicer shirt or something,” she said, giving him a pointed look.
Wyatt didn’t say anything, which Lucy took as a sort of assent. Whirling, she fled to her bedroom before he could come up with a lame excuse as to why they couldn’t go out.
She combed out her hair, leaving her curls to dry naturally, and pulled on a nice pair of jeans and a silky royal blue tank top, an outfit that made her feel the right combination of casual, confident, and feminine. Then she put on a little mascara and blush, figuring that Wyatt would have to stare at her across the table, so she might as well look nice.
After slipping on a pair of dove-gray leather flats, she was ready to go. When she got into the living room, Wyatt was pulling on a fresh shirt, the navy button-up open to reveal his muscular, tanned chest. He caught her eye but didn’t turn away, his bright blue gaze flashing when he saw her checking him out. A dimple flashed in his cheek for a moment as he buttoned up the shirt, leaving it untucked.
Well-dressed, but not tame. That was Wyatt to a T.
“Ready?” he asked.
Lucy grabbed her purse from the hall counter and nodded, leading the way outside. When Wyatt pulled out her keys, she tsked at him.
“I’m driving,” she said, ignoring his affronted expression.
She climbed in her ancient Volvo, leaning over to unlock his door from the inside. Wyatt getting in her car was almost comical, because he was much too large to fit comfortably. He reached under the seat and slid it all the way back, but his long legs didn’t mesh well with her compact vehicle.
Smothering a grin, Lucy started her car up and headed to the restaurant she had in mind. Wyatt didn’t say a word the whole way there, gripping the dash at times, scowling the duration of the trip. Lucy realized that he craved control, thrived on it; letting her set the rules tonight wouldn’t be a regular event, but it was nice of him to grin and bear it for the evening.
J
ust as her dirty mind was wondering what other ways he might give up that tightly held control, she pulled up outside the restaurant. There was no parking outside, since it was a busy Thursday night in downtown Seattle. Lucy ended up parking five blocks away, on a dimly-lit side street. It creeped her out a little, but she figured she should take advantage of her grumpy personal bodyguard rather than park two blocks further in a better-lit lot.
Wyatt’s expression was ten kinds of judgy as she parked, but he kept his mouth shut all the way to the restaurant.
“Hope you like Vietnamese,” she said as they reached their destination, trying to sound nonchalant.
Wyatt just gave her a vague nod as he ushered her into the restaurant, looking around all the while. Damn, but the man was paranoid. It must be hard to live like that, always looking over your shoulder. Or Lucy’s shoulder, as things now stood.
The hostess took them to a booth in the back of the sleekly-designed Asian bistro.
“Wait,” Wyatt said, touching her wrist to stop her from sliding into the booth. “Let me sit on that side. I like to face the door.”
“Kay,” Lucy said with a shrug.
They settled in, opening their menus. When the waiter arrived, Wyatt surprised her by ordering a salted lemonade and an iced coffee with condensed milk, both traditional Vietnamese menu items.
“You’ve done this before, huh?” Lucy commented, peering at him over the menu.
“I eat pho a lot at home. There’s a great Vietnamese place around the corner from my apartment,” Wyatt said, examining the menu. He pursed his lips, then put the menu down.
“And where’s home, exactly?” Lucy asked.
“Chicago,” Wyatt said, drumming his fingertips on the table, his gaze wandering as he watched people move about the restaurant.
Lucy’s stomach did a weird flip. She’d guessed that Wyatt wasn’t from Seattle, but she had no idea that he lived so far away. On the heels of that thought, she realized that Lexie would soon live just as far away.
The waiter arrived to take their orders, interrupting Lucy’s unhappy chain of thoughts.
“You got something against Chicago?” Wyatt asked, leaning back in the booth and stretching an arm out.
“Not specifically,” Lucy said. “I was just wondering how you ended up in Seattle, watching over me. It’s not exactly a day trip.”
“No,” Wyatt said with a sigh.
“Where are you staying?” she asked. “I mean, before the last couple of days.”
Wyatt arched a brow at her implication that he was staying with her, but answered her question.
“Hotel Andra.”
Lucy gave a low whistle.
“Nice digs. That place is pricy.”
“It’s the only hotel I’ve found here that has California king-sized beds. I’m here a lot, and I can’t sleep if my feet hang off the bed.”
“Guess my couch isn’t doing you any favors, then,” Lucy said.
Wyatt smirked.
“Not so much,” he admitted.
“Are you here a lot for business?” she said, seeking to find out more about his occupation.
“Some,” he said. “I have some family here, too. My brother Luke and his mate Aubrey have been renting a house about thirty miles south, trying to find the right place to settle down.”
“I just realized that I don’t know what clan you’re from,” Lucy said, chewing her lip. She paused, unsure how to proceed. “I don’t know your last name, Wyatt.”
“Beran,” he said, clearing his throat. “I guess I should have told you that much.”
“Wait, like… the Montana Berans?” she asked, taken aback.
“Yep.” Wyatt looked downright uncomfortable now, like she’d uncovered some dirty secret.
“Why didn’t I meet you at that big party out in Red Lodge last year?” Lucy asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Ahhh… I attended a very short part of it. I was… otherwise engaged,” he said, his gaze roaming.
“You were hooking up,” Lucy surmised. She deflated a little inside, but tried not to show it.
Wyatt shrugged.
“It was a long time ago.”
“Right. Got it. None of my business,” Lucy said, her mouth twisting with a sour expression. She needed to change the topic before she could start second-guessing her fact-finding mission. “Don’t you have a bunch of brothers?”
“Six,” Wyatt said, his gaze narrowing. “But they’ve all got mates now.”
“I wasn’t looking for a date set up,” Lucy scoffed. “Just making conversation.”
“I see. What is it you really want to know, Lucy? My occupation? Whether I have a girl back in Chicago?”
Wyatt’s gaze was as shrewd and cutting as his words, and Lucy’s chin came up, defensive.
“Is that wrong to ask?” she said, splaying her hands out on the table.
“No,” Wyatt said, exhaling a long breath. “I work in finance. Venture capital, trading, a few different fields. I run my own firm.”
Lucy traced a figure eight on the table with a fingertip, steadying herself.
“And the other part… about your dating status?”
Wyatt reached out and trapped her fingers, waiting until Lucy raised her eyes to meet his.
“There’s no one else,” he said. His tone was casual, but his gaze bored into hers, some deeper emotion flitting across his handsome face. It was almost, Lucy imagined, as if he was saying, there will never be anyone else.
The waiter arrived with their food, two huge bowls of steaming noodle soup plus two baskets of bean sprouts, onions, basil leaves, and cilantro. The food distracted them, and Lucy couldn’t help but feel glad. Wyatt could be so intense at times, bordering on unnerving, yet it was also magnetic. If Lucy looked into those bright blue eyes for too long, she thought she might fall in, lose herself, never resurface.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, then the conversation drifted to easier subjects. Favorite foods and colors, childhood stories, whether they liked to read fiction or nonfiction. Wyatt was knowledgeable on nearly every topic; at this point, Lucy was no longer surprised. He was intelligent, cultured, and clever.
Coupled with his good looks, he was like some strange, mythical being. Lucy couldn’t help but wonder what his flaws were, aside from being overly possessive and dominant. In truth, Lucy found those qualities pretty hot, so… there had to be something else. Some deep, dark secret.
“Why don’t you have a mate?” she asked him as she pushed her bowl away, too full to eat another bite.
Wyatt froze, noodles hanging out of his mouth, chopsticks mid-air. He frowned, chewed, and swallowed.
“Excuse me?” he managed at last.
“You seem… well…” Lucy waved a hand at him. “You’re wealthy, attractive, from a good family. Why don’t you have a mate yet? Especially since the families of Alphas are being ordered to pair off pretty soon, if I recall.”
Wyatt shot her a dark look.
“That’s not any of your business, is it?” he asked.
“I think it might be,” Lucy said, crossing her arms. “Obviously you’re defective somehow. I should know who I’m… hanging out with.”
Wyatt’s gaze slid away.
“I met the girl I thought was my fated mate. Right out of high school.”
Lucy’s brows shot up in shock.
“You did? Why didn’t you mate her?”
“She died.” Wyatt’s expression was blank, his voice calm, almost bored.
“I— I’m so sorry,” Lucy said, reaching out and covering his hand, just as he’d done to her earlier.
He tensed and pulled away, picking up his chopsticks and fiddling with them.
“No use in being sorry,” he mumbled, looking around for the waiter. Suddenly, Wyatt seemed desperate to end their not-quite-date.
“Wyatt,” Lucy said, tapping the tabletop to get his attention. She’d already overstepped once, but she needed to get one final answer from him, needed one m
ore piece of truth if this bizarre guardianship was to continue.
Wyatt looked at her, pain in his eyes. It took everything Lucy had to ask the question again.
“Why are you here, protecting me? You have information about my safety, but you won’t tell me anything. How do you know that I’m in danger?”
Wyatt’s hand moved in a blur, palm slamming the table and making Lucy jump.
“Damn it, Lucy. I can’t tell you that. Stop asking!” Wyatt snarled. “I’m trying to save you from a gruesome death, at great personal cost, and you’re not even fucking grateful!”
Lucy went stiff. So maybe this was it, Wyatt’s fatal flaw. He had a temper, at least where his privacy was concerned.
“You know what? I didn’t ask for this. So I’ll let this play out for a few more days, if that’s what you need,” she said, grabbing her wallet and pulling out a couple of twenties. “But don’t expect me to be grateful. For all I know, you’ve made all of this up to scare me.”
“Right. Why would I do that, now?” Wyatt challenged her.
“I don’t know. It’s not to sleep with me, even if I want that. So… I have no idea. But if I catch so much as a whiff of motive, you’re out on your ass, mister.”
“I’d like to see you try that,” Wyatt growled.
Lucy rose and tossed her money on the table.
“I think we’re done here. Get your own ride back to the house.”
She stalked out of the restaurant, not looking back once.
111
Nine
Wyatt slumped in his car seat, feeling hollowed out. After their disastrous dinner a few nights before, Lucy had completely frozen him out. Though Wyatt had keys to her house, care of the timid locksmith, Lucy had been clear about her wish for him to keep his distance. He slipped into the house while she was sleeping and removed his laptop and other personal items, then returned to living in his car.
He returned to his hotel to shower and catch a little sleep during her shifts at the hospital, figuring that he couldn’t watch her every hour of the day. If he had to take breaks and leave Lucy unattended, he figured the hospital was the safest place for her to be.