by Emily Snow
Instead, it’s an officer from Louisiana, a female this time, calling with a status report on my case against Shiner Bock. I can’t help but be impressed that someone is contacting me on a Saturday morning, even if her call did drag me out of bed an hour earlier than I intended.
According to the officer, Finn and his grope-happy friend, James, have been caught. I let my shoulders slump forward in relief. “So, are they in custody?” I ask.
“As of yesterday afternoon, yes.”
Even though I’m sure there’s a slim chance in hell, I can’t resist asking her whether or not any of my stuff was recovered.
“One moment, please,” she says. I can hear her leafing through a stack of paperwork. Using the silence to my advantage, I mute my phone and dash into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I have a mouthful of toothpaste when she speaks again, surprising me. “Based on the report you filed, a few of your belongings were found on Finn Graham’s person.”
Rinsing out my mouth quickly, I take my phone off of mute. “Can you tell me what all you found of ours?”
“Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to give you details about the belongings Ms. Wright’s reported missing due to our privacy policy, but I’d be happy to tell you which of your items were found.”
“Thanks, that would be great.”
I listen carefully as the officer reads through the list, which turns out to be a total of four things, about a quarter of my belongings that I reported stolen. The canceled credit cards and my driver’s license were nowhere to be found, but I didn’t exactly expect to get those back. I’m pretty sure they’re all in a dumpster somewhere by now, and I make a mental note to put some type of alert on my credit report.
“Are you going to call Heidi? Or should I tell her to get in contact with you?” I ask as I wipe my mouth with a warm washcloth.
“We’ve already contacted Ms. Wright, and she’s aware of the procedure to pick up her belongings.”
I examine my smile in the mirror before I flip off the light switch and return to bed. “So, how exactly do we go about doing that?” I ask. “Is there any way I can get it shipped to my home address?”
“Do you have something to write with?”
“Just a second.” Leaning over, I find the hotel’s complimentary stationery set, which is just a stack of promotional sticky notes and a pen, inside the nightstand drawer. I grab a phone book and place one of the Post-its on it. “Okay, I’m ready.”
As she speaks, I jot down a few things, but the gist of the whole recovery process is pretty simple. My belongings are in New Orleans, and they can’t be mailed to me in California, meaning I’ll have to physically go into their station with my ID—which I don’t currently have—and sign a form. Since going back to Louisiana isn’t in my plans for the near future, I ball up the note and toss it in the wastebasket as soon as the call ends. “Guess I won’t be getting that crap back for a few months,” I say under my breath.
“What crap?” Wyatt asks drowsily from beside me.
Placing the phone book back inside the nightstand drawer, I lean against the headboard and pull my knees to my chest. “The cops picked up the assholes who robbed my room.”
“Assholes?” He stares at me incredulously. “I thought there was only one guy.”
When I shake my head, holding up two fingers, he continues, “And I’m guessing they found your stuff?”
Massaging my temples, I shrug. “Some of it—a pair of shoes, a handbag, and my camera and its bag. Maybe they’ll find some of the other things in pawnshops, but I seriously doubt it.”
Wyatt yawns into his palm and then scratches his head. “At least they found the shitheads who did it,” he says, and I nod my head in agreement. He stretches his arms over his head but then winces and glances down at the bandage over the right side of his muscular chest. “God, this hurts.”
“Stop being such a baby, McCrae,” I say, sticking my ring finger up at him. “I don’t even feel a thing.” Of course, that’s a lie because as I move my finger around, pain shoots through my hand.
Snorting, Wyatt gives my thigh a squeeze, but I stop his fingers before he can go any further. “Really, Ky?” At first I think he’s referring to me not letting him touch me, but then he grins and dips his head toward my new tattoo. “That little thing took all of thirty minutes.”
It might have, but I can still tell from the look in his eyes how thrilled he is that I finally got Brad’s last name wiped away from my body for good.
As I slide out of bed, Wyatt gives me one of those lingering looks that just makes me want to crawl back in and bury myself under the covers with him for the rest of the day. Taking a deep breath, I move my head slowly from side to side. “Don’t you dare look at me like that,” I warn. “Phoenix, remember?” I bend over to grab a change of clothes from my bag, feeling his eyes skim up my bare legs.
“Oh, I didn’t forget about Phoenix. I’m just trying to figure out if you’re wearing panties right now.”
Tucking my clothes under my arm, I lift the hem of my oversized T-shirt to show him that I am, in fact, wearing underwear.
He flicks his tongue over his lip piercing as if I’m not. “We don’t have to be in Phoenix until—”
Since I’m already making my way into the bathroom, I wave him off. “Get the hell up already.”
He doesn’t actually get out of bed until I come out of the shower, and I’m not surprised when he corners me in the bathroom. Instead of trying to convince me to keep my clothes off, he comes up behind me to help snap the closures of my delicate pink bra.
“I fucking hate Victoria’s Secret,” he murmurs when he fastens the last hook. He walks around my body, his palm skimming around my waist as he does so. When he kneels down in front of me, my breath catches, but then he reaches past me to grab my underwear from near the sink.
“But they have such pretty things,” I tease.
“Yeah, but for me, it’s torture.” He strokes the outside of my foot, and I step into the pink panties he’s holding out for me. He glides them up my smooth legs carefully, stopping just once to touch his lips against the inside of my thigh. I gasp, and then he gently tugs the flimsy fabric into place. “The worst type of torture imaginable.”
“Sorry, I can’t just go commando all the time, babe.”
Examining me for a long time, he finally lets out a low noise. “Hurry up and finish getting dressed before I rip those off of you and fuck you right here.”
Cocking my eyebrow, I back away from him slowly, feeling the heat from his gaze as I grab my clothes from the hook behind the door. I shrug into them quickly, and he groans as I wiggle my hips a little to slide up my jeans.
“You’re fucking killing me, Bluebird,” he says, pulling me to him by my belt loops.
“You should get dressed.” Running my fingers along the elastic of his boxers, I slide my tongue over my lips. “By the way, you need to be more careful with all the ripping of the clothes. I’m starting to keep a mental note, and I’m billing your ass when we get to L.A.” When I let the elastic snap against his waist, he sucks in a breath through his teeth.
“Bill me all you want, as long as I get you in the dressing room.”
If he’s trying to make me blush, he succeeds. He grins as he turns on the faucet, and I leave the bathroom quickly before he has a chance to try and talk me into taking a shower with him. With all this talk about ripping underwear and banging in dressing rooms, chances are I’d take him up on it.
As soon as he’s finished showering, he sets about getting dressed. I watch him as he puts on a pair of relaxed dark jeans and a black T-shirt that not only accentuates his toned biceps, but will also hide any bleeding ink on his chest. As soon as he’s finished, he crosses the room to where I’m sitting on the edge of the bed. Leaning over me, he cups my face between his hands and kisses me. “You look beautiful, Ky.”
“Didn’t you know, McCrae?” I start, unable to keep the breathlessness out of my voice. “Your pretty word
s don’t always make me drop my panties.”
“Fuck . . . apparently not.” He takes my hands in his and guides me toward the door to our room, tucking his hand into my back pocket as we walk down the hallway together. When I glance up at him, he grins at me, giving my ass a firm squeeze. “I’ll try again after breakfast.”
“You’re a determined thing, aren’t you?” I ask as we leave the hotel and walk in the direction of the restaurant where Heidi and I ate breakfast yesterday.
“Always.” Just before we step through the restaurant door to join Heidi and Cal, he stops me, pulling my body flush to his. “But Kylie?”
“Wyatt?” We step to the right in sync to avoid a group of people making their way into the building. Our gazes stay locked for a long pause of time, until I lift an eyebrow. “You plan on speaking or continuing to creep me out with all the silence?”
He lowers his mouth to my ear. “Even if we don’t fuck this morning, you’re still beautiful.” When he draws away from me, taking in my slightly stunned expression, a slow grin drags across his face. I make a noise in the back of my throat in an effort to clear away some of the tightness as I slide past him.
“So are you,” I finally reply, pulling the restaurant door open.
Once we’re seated, I order the same thing as before, the western omelet, and I promise myself that I’ll actually enjoy my breakfast no matter who calls me. In fact, if my phone does ring, I’ll send whoever it is directly to my voice mail.
Cal and Heidi are in deep conversation about something, but when I lift my coffee mug to my lips, he pauses. “What the hell is wrong with your finger?” From the way he’s narrowing his brown eyes at my newly inked skin, I’d think he didn’t have a dozen tattoos of his own.
I take a sip of my coffee before answering him. The steaming liquid burns the tip of my tongue, and shooting Heidi an apologetic look, I grab her orange juice and take a giant sip in hopes that it will cool my mouth. Once I’m able to speak without slurring my words, I say, “New tattoo.”
Despite being on the opposite side of the table, Heidi bends as close to me as she can to examine my finger. Her eyes widen, and she blurts out, “Jesus, Kylie, did you two get married last night?”
Beside her, Cal chokes on his unsweetened tea and then garbles something incoherent.
Before either of them have a meltdown in the middle of the restaurant, I jump to correct Heidi’s assumption. “I can promise you that we’re definitely not married.” I glance over at Wyatt. Although his shoulders are shaking from laughter, something flashes in his midnight blue eyes—curiosity.
My mind has wandered there before, thinking about what marriage would be like with Wyatt, but I won’t let it go there again. Not when all the events of the last couple days have brought me closer to wanting to give things between the two of us one more try. Not when he’s yet to tell me that he loves me.
No, marriage probably won’t be something I stop and think about for a long time.
“I’m glad you didn’t get married,” Heidi announces, taking her orange juice away from me. “I would have punched you in the boob if I didn’t get an invite.”
Once we’re done with breakfast, we head back to the hotel to pack for Phoenix. We’re on the road well before noon, and as Wyatt and I sit in the backseat together, his hand finds mine, clasping my fingers tightly.
“Last stop,” he whispers, and I can only nod my head.
Heidi has to leave almost the moment we reach Phoenix six hours later. One of her brothers is already waiting for us at the hotel when Cal parks the SUV. She leaps out of the front seat of the Suburban and sprints across the parking lot, laughing as her brother gathers her up in a giant hug.
“He’s fucking big,” Cal says from beside me, eyeing Heidi and the tall beefy guy standing next to her. I tip my head in agreement. “I could probably take him.”
Cocking an eyebrow, I glance at him from out of the corner of my eye. “Thought there was nothing going on between you two.”
“Oh, there’s not.” He starts unloading our luggage, giving me a wink as he sets her suitcase on the asphalt. “But you never know what’ll happen once we get back home.”
Right. As I walk over to Heidi, I glance back at Cal once, and when I catch him staring at her, he drops his eyes.
Heidi reintroduces me to her brother, and as he climbs inside his ironically small sports car, she gives me a pained look. “So, apparently, my mom really went all out because I’m in town, and the entire family is coming over.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
She shakes her head, and I stifle a laugh at how dramatic the sad expression on her face is. “My nieces and nephews are possessed. After the last time you came home with me, I swore to you I’d never put you through that again.”
I can’t resist grinning. “Want me to wait around for you before I head over to the bar tonight?”
She bobs her head a little too enthusiastically. “I’m hoping it’ll be sooner rather than later, but you know how my folks are.” When her brother honks his horn, she rolls her eyes. “Ugh, see you later.”
Before she gets into the car, she waves her arm dramatically to Wyatt and Cal to signal that she’s leaving, and then I watch as her brother’s sports car speeds away. Heidi can complain all she wants about her family, but I know better than anyone how much she adores them. Seeing them will be good for her.
Since Wyatt and Cal have a few things to take care of with the Hazard Anthem guys, I stay in our room after we check-in. The moment that Wyatt leaves, after promising me that he’ll be back as soon as possible, I adjust the thermostat back to a normal temperature.
When I lie down to watch a marathon of The Walking Dead, I don’t plan to fall asleep, but it’s pretty much inevitable. The sound of Wyatt returning to the room gets me up, and I flick my eyes to the clock by the bed to see that it’s 8:37 p.m.
Yawning, I sit up and swing my legs off the side of the bed. “Didn’t realize it was so late.” I smooth a bunch of stray pieces of my hair behind my ear. “Do I have time to get ready?”
He nods. “I’ve been calling you,” he says, sitting down in the armchair across the room. “We go on in a little over an hour.”
I grab my phone from the nightstand and release a groan when I realize it’s dead. Since it’s useless, I throw it down on the bed. “The battery in that thing sucks.” If Wyatt’s been trying to get in touch with me, chances are Heidi has too. I rub my hand over my face in frustration. “Hey, you don’t happen to have Heidi’s number saved in your phone, do you?”
He shakes his head but pulls out his cell. He runs his finger up and down the screen, probably scrolling through his contacts. “Nope, but Cal does. He’s having drinks with Nate and Ben, but he’ll answer.” He presses a button and then tosses the phone to me. I reach up and catch it easily with my right hand. “Going to wash my face before we get going. Be right back,” he says, disappearing into the bathroom.
Just as Wyatt promised, Cal answers on the fourth ring. After he teases me about not knowing my best friend’s number, he promises to text it to me as soon as we hang up. A moment after I hit the End button, the message comes through. “Impressive, Cal,” I say, opening the text.
It takes me approximately five seconds to figure out that the string of messages I’m staring down at isn’t from Cal, and even though I jab the Home button quickly, the last three texts between Terra and Wyatt have dug their way into my head.
6:29 p.m.: You don’t even want to know the room # in case you change your mind?
7:01 p.m.: I won’t, so let’s not waste our time. I told you the other night that it was one time. Fucking drop it.
8:42 p.m.: You know what? Go fuck yourself, Wyatt.
I hear the bathroom door ease open, and he’s talking about Your Toxic Sequel’s summer tour as he rounds the corner. My face must say it all because the moment he looks at me, his words fade away, and the color drains from his naturally tan face. Struggling to
keep my breath steady, I stare into his eyes, and I repeat the question I asked him a couple nights ago, the question that I’m absolutely certain he answered with a flat-out lie.
“Did you screw Terra?”
Chapter Sixteen
He lowers his dark blue eyes to the phone that’s lying on the bed just as another text message comes through. I know that this time, it’s probably Cal getting back to me with Heidi’s number, but right now, that’s the furthest thing from my mind. Right now, I desperately need to know the truth from the man standing in front of me.
“Did you lie to me?” I ask, standing. I take a tentative step toward him and then another, feeling my heart race faster and faster with each movement. Once my bare toes hit the toe of Wyatt’s boot, I straighten my back. “Did you fuck Terra?”
Drawing his eyebrows together, he pinches his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. I never let my gaze fall even though I want to. At last, he swallows hard, giving me a brisk nod. “Yeah, I did.”
I feel like something has collided into my chest, and I rub my hand back and forth over the center, hoping it will lessen the pain. It doesn’t. “And you’ve done it again since we came here? Since you and I have been together like this?”
Sucking in his upper lip, he shakes his head vigorously. “Absolutely not.”
“Then, why not just tell me when I asked? Why make it a big secret?” He’s had one-night stands before—and even though we weren’t a couple, all those times ripped out my heart—but this is the first time he’s lied to me. “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth when I asked?” I demand, my voice cracking.
“Because you said her name like—”
My nostrils flare, and I hold up my hand. “Like what? Like I wanted to choke her? Who gives a damn how I said her name? All I wanted was for you to tell me the truth, to be straight with me. I can handle everything else, Wyatt.” My shoulders begin to shake, and I drop my eyes to my bare feet. “When?” I ask.