19. WREN

19

WREN

Heat blooms in my cheeks thinking about last night. I don't shy away from the things I want. I go after them full force. Last night I wanted him.

After the orgasm he gave me, I did sleep like a baby. It wasn't my lack of clothing that made the difference. It was being able to cuddle with Wyatt.

I was sad he was already gone when I woke up this morning. It turns me on to think I got him off last night without even putting my hands on him, but I really want to put my hands on him. I wanted to wake him up this morning the same way he put me to bed last night.

Sadly I woke up clutching a pillow in my arms instead of him.

The house is empty except for Wyatt's dad relaxing in the living room. I scrounge up some breakfast and make myself at home. That is one thing about being here. It doesn't feel weird to be left to my own devices. I understand everyone has a job to do. I like that they don't cater to me as if I'm a guest .

"Wren, is that you in there?" Wyatt's dad calls out from the living room. "Come in here and keep me company."

"Good morning," I greet him when I enter the living room. "Can I get you anything?"

He shakes his head. He's sitting in his usual brown leather recliner with his leg propped up again. I'm curious to know the story behind his injury—whatever happened had an effect on the entire family.

"Did you sleep okay?" he asks. My steps falter. Wyatt wouldn't have told his dad that I stripped all my clothes off and let him finger bang me, would he? His expression is blank, wrapped up in whatever is happening on the television. Maybe he's making small talk.

"I did. Thank you." I take a sip of my coffee and immediately start coughing. "What is this made with? Tar?"

His deep chuckle makes me smile. "You'll get used to it after a few cups."

"After a few cups, I'll be doing laps around the farm." I'll admit the second sip does go down a little easier than the first. Likely because ninety percent of my tastebuds are tainted with this murky liquid that is posing as coffee. "Where is everyone?"

"Faith and Lenny are running errands. Willow is at work—she works a few days a week at the bakery in town. And the boys are working on that list you made for them last night." His lip tilts up on one side.

"It's Ford's list. I simply suggested it would be more efficient if he wrote everything down and prioritized what he wanted done to keep everyone on the same page," I say. He hums in response. "Did Wyatt mention anything for me to do while he's working outside?"

"You didn't want to join them?" His lip curls similarly to his son's when he's teasing me.

"I don't know if you have enough insurance to have me help fix roofs and build fences."

"Faith left a pile of documents for you to look through. All the income reports from the last ten years or so." He nods toward the dining room table. "It didn't happen overnight. Our financial situation. It's been years in the making. Started back before I took over for my dad. Every year we get a little bit more behind."

I wonder why Wyatt is under the impression he is the reason behind all their debt.

"You did the best you could. Your family—"

"Has sacrificed a lot while I sit here and watch." He stares out the window that's filled with green pastures and a barn that looks like a dollhouse since it's so far away.

"Maybe it's time to stop watching." I finish my muffin and take my empty coffee mug back to the kitchen and rinse it out. "I need a tour," I say, holding his cane out to him.

He eyes it for a moment. "You know how to drive a Gator?"

"I'm not sure what that is but I'm a quick learner."

"Then grab your hat and put on your boots. I'll meet you outside."

Apparently a Gator is a four wheeler. I've never been on one before but it can't be too hard to figure out how to drive. It's a rocky start as we jerk down a dirt path that leads to the flower fields.

Green stems pop out of the ground. A few with tiny buds getting ready to bloom in a variety of colors. He informs me they will harvest the flowers and sell what they can to local florists.

What happens to the flowers they can't sell? I add this to my list of questions for Wyatt.

We follow the dirt and gravel path as it curves around to the back end of the property. Mr. Rivers points out different pastures and sections of unused land. All the places they have plans to utilize in the future.

"Do you want to show the boys what you're made of?" he shouts over the wind and rumble of the engine. He points toward a large red barn. I can't quite make out who, but two of the four brothers are up on the roof.

"Hold on!" I yell before I step on the gas and we go flying over the hills. I've never done anything this crazy before. I break out in a peal of laughter and he screams wildly in excitement. I have a feeling it's been a long time since he's felt this alive.

"Circle the barn." He has a death grip on the handle above his head. I take us around the barn a few times narrowly avoiding the workstation Ford has set up.

"Someone doesn't look very happy with you," he says after our fourth trip around the barn.

"Me?" I ask. He points to Wyatt where he's standing on top of the barn with his hands on his hips.

"You better stop and talk to him."

"This was your idea, Mr. Rivers." I press my foot on the brake and put the four wheeler in park.

"Mr. Rivers is my Pa. Call me Jack. I probably should have told you I'm not supposed to be riding on these things." He slaps the dash.

"Dad. Wren," Ford says with a stern look and crossed arms. "You know the rules." Jack and I climb out of the four wheeler like chastised children.

"I asked for a tour. He tried to warn me but I insisted he come with me," I say. Jack doesn't correct me. I don't blame him as I stare down the firing squad.

"Birdie, stop lying." Wyatt climbs down the ladder that's propped up against the barn. He's shirtless and wearing a backwards hat. It's a double whammy and has me salivating. He looks like he's doused himself in oil. His skin is so slicked down with sweat.

"I'm not. I did ask for a tour." Wyatt stands in front of me. His bare chest in my face. "Can you put your shirt on, please?"

"Nah, it's too hot," he says, fanning himself. I'd have to agree with him. I'm feeling particularly warm at the moment. "Keep looking at me like that and I'm going to give you a tour of the back of the barn," he whispers in my ear. Thankfully no one else is paying attention to us. They are too busy reminding Jack about the danger of him riding on the four wheelers.

"I didn't know he wasn't allowed to ride on them. "

"It's not that he can't do it. We try to keep him from doing it. He almost lost his leg in a tractor accident. If he hurts his leg again, they won't be able to save it a second time. We try to avoid any situations where that's a possibility."

"Are they that dangerous?" The four wheeler felt powerful, but not any different from a car.

"It's the land. It can be uneven and rocky. You can easily flip or roll if you aren't careful. Especially if you come in hot the way you did."

My head drops to the ground. "I should have stayed at the house," I murmur. He tilts my chin up.

"You didn't come here to stay inside all day. Come on. I'll show you around."

"Don't you need to finish?"

"They can handle the rest." He holds out his hand and I grab it. He smiles. Stupid dimples . "Keys, birdie."

"I wanted to drive." I pout.

"I don't think so, Evil Knievel." He ushers me back toward the vehicle. "I'm going to finish Wren's tour. Can you or Mason get Dad back home?" he asks and tosses his shirt back on. The fabric immediately sticks to his skin like glue.

"Yeah. We can do that," Ford says. He narrows his eyes on the perpetrator. Jack gives me a wink before turning his attention back to his sons.

Wyatt starts up the engine and we drive down a different dirt path that takes us deeper into the empty green pastures. We drive past hay fields for miles. He points to the barns and animals in the distance closer to the main house. His rough, warm palm lands on my thigh, startling me. Leisurely he pulls at the loose threads on the hem of my shorts. It feels even better than I imagined having his hand on my thigh while we drive around. Does he realize how much he's turning me on right now?

"Do you want to see the animals?"

"I'm not sure. Animals don't usually like me very much."

His smile disarms me. "I doubt that. I bet you'll have them eating out of the palm of your hand in no time."

"If you say so."

"I know so," he says, as if it's knowledge gained from personal experience. That sends a flutter through my belly. What is that feeling?

We pull to a stop behind another barn-like building. This barn isn't as big as the one at the back of the property that's for the horses. Wyatt informs me this is where the goats are pinned when they aren't grazing somewhere on the farm.

"We're going inside?" I ask as he opens the gate.

"They're friendly. I promise. You'll be fine."

Hesitantly, I enter the fenced area keeping my eyes out for any goats. I expected to see an empty patch of grass for the goats to run around and graze. Instead, they have a playground. There are several different apparatuses for the goats to jump and play on.

"How many goats do you have?" I spot two sitting on a swinging platform.

"Six," he says from inside the barn. He grabs a bucket from the top shelf and passes it to me .

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Hold it out. This is how to get them to like you," he says, then whistles. Goats begin to swarm me from every side.

"Wyatt!" I scream as they take turns digging their heads into the bucket. "Stop that." I scold a little white goat who starts chewing on my shorts. "Take your turn," I say to another goat that tries to headbutt his way to the bucket.

"Having fun yet?" Wyatt teases as he pets one of his goat friends. I am having fun. Despite the initial panic, there is something calming about being around the animals. Once the bucket is empty, Wyatt shows me how to check their water and the pens where they sleep and get shade.

"What are the goats for?" I ask, keeping one eye on the goat that is following me around. He's really cute, but I know he just wants to eat my shorts.

"Dairy. We milk them every morning."

"Do you sell the milk?"

"Sometimes. Goat milk can be a hard sell. Willow does take it up to the bakery on occasion."

He continues the tour by showing me the cows, chickens, and horses. I have a list a mile long of all the things I want to research when we get back to the house. They have everything they need to turn this place around. I'm going to prove it to them. Prove it to Wyatt. I want to show him that he doesn't have to play baseball if he doesn't want to.

After dinner I begin to sift through the paperwork Faith left out for me. Occasionally one of Wyatt's brothers would sit with me and tell me what they want to do with their portion of the farm if they had the chance. Each one of them has a vision for the future of the farm.

A future that I want to help them achieve.

When Wyatt sits beside me and drapes an arm around my chair while I research the benefits of free-range chickens, for a moment I see a future for us.

It's unrealistic considering how different our paths are, but I see it. I feel it. And I don't know how I'm going to let it go when it's time.