Cowboys & Kisses (17 page)

“How to, I don’t know, follow through.” He shrugged. “I get close to her and panic. I feel all weird when she’s around, you know? And then I worry I’m not going to be a good enough kisser or my breath isn’t fresh enough or I’ll smother her or—”

I couldn’t help it, I was laughing. He frowned. “Dax, come on.” I shook my head. “She likes you. She clearly wants to be kissed. It’s like I told her about roping. Get out of your head and do it.”

“I think this is a little different.”

“I don’t.”

“That’s your advice?” His brows rose. “Do it? We’re not talking about a shoe commercial here.”

I was laughing too hard to argue.

“Seriously? Allie, come on. There has to be a…a move.” He shifted from one foot to the other, then back again. “Or something.”

“No moves here,” I finally managed. I didn’t really know why I said, “Why not talk to Wyatt?”

Dax glanced out the screen door.

“I guess. I mean, maybe not. He doesn’t strike me as the kiss and tell sort,” I continued.

Dax shot a wicked grin my way. “You tell me.”

I threw a kitchen towel at him. “We haven’t—”

“I know.”

That stopped me cold. “What do you mean, you know?” Had Wyatt been talking to Dax? About
me
? Was this a good thing? Or did it bother me? Maybe a little… But more than anything I wanted to know what he’d said.

“The way you are around each other—crazy, tense, and nervous. Him looking at you…you looking at him…neither one of you seeing the other one doing the looking. One of you better make a move soon or—” He stopped, shrugging.

I glanced out the window at Wyatt, who was still doggedly hammering a fence post into the ground. “Or what?”

“I don’t know. I can only speak for him. He’ll explode, maybe.” I shot Dax a glare. “Would it be so bad?” he asked, pouring himself a glass of water.

“To explode?” I asked.

“No, smart ass, to admit you
like
Wyatt.”

I paused. “I guess…I feel…” I swallowed.
Yes, it would be that bad because—
“I think about Lindie, you know?”

Dax didn’t move. I’m not sure he was breathing.

“Having this conversation… Checking out Wyatt…
boys
,” I tried to correct myself. “She—”

“Would be laughing her ass off right now.” Dax set his cup down on the counter.

I smiled at him. He was right. “I know.”

“She’d give
me
shit for asking you about kissing. And
you
shit for falling for a cowboy.”

“I have not—”

“Spare me, Al.” He leaned against the counter.

“Whatever.”

“I can’t say I know how you feel, losing Lindie, okay? I don’t want to know, honestly. But she was part of the family since you started kindergarten together, so give me a little credit for knowing her, okay? And missing her, too.”

I looked at him, not saying a thing. I couldn’t say a thing, my throat was too tight.

He took a deep breath. “She was anti-wallowing. All about defeating the opposition and strategies and overcoming obstacles. I’m not just talking about her take on soccer, you know?”

I
was
wallowing. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was. He was right. She’d totally be kicking my ass right now. I sighed.

“Don’t sigh at me,” he snapped. “You know where I’m going with this.”

He didn’t get that I wasn’t sighing at him, but I nodded. I did know where he was going with this.

“So stop it,” he finished.

“Stop it?” I was too startled to snap back.

He shrugged. “Stop…stop being angry.”

“And
I
give bad advice?” I shook my head. “Talk about an anti-climactic ending.” I snorted. “I’m going for a run.”

“Dad wants you to rest.”

“Good for him.” I managed to snap that time. Somehow knowing Dad wanted me to rest only made me want to run more.

“You are so…so…
Dammit
.”

I smiled at him, waiting. Dax rarely blew his cool.

He shook his head. “Why bother? Right? You’re going to do whatever you want. You always do.” He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “In one year we’ll be gone.
One
year. I’d consider it a personal favor if you tried, just a little, to make it suck less.”

He left the kitchen, a garbled sound of frustration hanging in the air.

Suck less.
Not be nice or behave. Just suck
less
…

Was that too much to ask? Really? Dax was the only person I had left. My parents had me firmly boxed in the ticking-time-bomb category. I didn’t have any friends anymore, except for Lindie’s mom, Mrs. Duncan—and I knew that wasn’t exactly a healthy relationship. But I couldn’t be mean to her, I couldn’t shut her out. I’d killed her only child. I kind of owed it to her to be there for her.

And Wyatt? No way I’d let Wyatt in. What was the point? I’d only screw it up. He didn’t deserve someone like me—a flake determined to get out of here graduation day. We’d all be leaving then. But Dax…he was my brother forever. Was he really asking too much?

You’re such a bitch
. I could hear Lindie teasing. She always called me a bitch. And I called her a “ho.” We were such screw-ups. I sighed, slamming my cup on the counter.

Being a bitch isn’t fun or funny anymore.

“Morning.” Levi was all smiles, peeking into the kitchen. “Thought I saw your pretty little head in the window.”

I tried for a smile and almost made it. “Hi.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks.”

“Good enough to go tubing this weekend?”

“Still determined to get me into a bikini?”

“Bikini, huh?” His grin grew. “Hell yes.”

I laughed. “I don’t know. My dad’s in watchdog mode right now, so…” I didn’t finish.

“Of course he is,” Levi agreed, coming into the kitchen. “You’re his baby girl.”

He was red and sweaty. And cute. So why didn’t I get all worked up over him?
Because he’s not Wyatt.
I blew out a slow breath.
“Want some water?” I asked, turning back to the sink to refill my cup.

It was sweltering hot out there. I could see the heat rolling off the metal hood of the broken-down tractor. I saw Wyatt straighten, pull off his shirt. The water spilled over the rim of the cup and ran up my arm. Yep, it was
so
hot.

“That’d be great,” Levi said, interrupting my inspection.

I pulled a large plastic cup from the stack on the counter, loaded it with ice, and filled the cup to the brim with cold water. He took it, smiling, and finished it off.

“More?” I asked.

“Nah.” He winked. “I’m good. Thanks.”

“You think…” I glanced out the window at Wyatt and Dad and Dax. “I’ll bring out some more drinks.”

He nodded, wiping his face on a blue bandana. “That’d be great, Allie. I’ll talk to your dad about going tubing. Water’s still high enough right now.”

“You can try,” I said. “Good luck.”

“Sounds like a challenge, honey.” He winked again. “You just watch.”

“Okay. Let’s go.” I held the door open for him and walked onto the back porch.

He watched me. “Hold up.” Several seconds later he emerged with a large glass of ice water. He headed straight to my father, glass in hand. I didn’t hear much of what was said.

I saw Wyatt, a little further off, working hard. Dad stopped digging and took the drink, talking to Levi. I saw Dax look my way, then at Wyatt—still working. When all was said and done, Levi gave me a thumbs-up before he picked up his shovel and went back to work.

It was hard to miss the scowl Dax sent my way, turning a meaningful stare at Wyatt. I shrugged. How the hell was I supposed to know Dad would
let
me go tubing with Levi? Didn’t make much sense to me, but not much was making sense these days.

“Allie,” Dad called out. “Can you get some water for Dax and Wyatt?”

I glanced at Wyatt, but he hadn’t stopped working. I nodded and went inside, pulling out two of my gallon sports bottles and filling them with ice and water. I’m not sure why I felt a little anxious as I walked across the front yard—tossing Dax his bottle—to Wyatt. But I did. Big-time nerves.

The muscles in his back strained, his arms flexed, his shoulders rippled… He was mixing something in a ten-gallon bucket, completely clueless that I was standing six feet away.

“Hey,” I said, offering the water.

He kept stirring.

“Wyatt?”

Nothing.

I stepped closer and heard the music then. He had earbuds in, listening to angry music—loud angry music. “
Wyatt?
” I said a little louder, touching his arm.

He looked up, his shadowed brown eyes widening. He pulled one of the earbuds out, taking the water jug I held out. “Thanks,” he murmured, focusing on the water jug.

“Need help?”

He looked into the bucket, then in the hole. “I’ve got it.”

I nodded.
So, he’s avoiding me
…
Can’t blame him
. His amazing brown eyes looked everywhere—the bucket, the shovel, the water jug—but not at me.

“You okay?” I asked.

His smile was fast, but it wasn’t a real smile.
Still not looking at me
. “Yeah.”

“You sure?” I stepped in front of him, daring him to look at me.
Talk to me…

“Want to get these posts set.” His tone was hard as he brushed by me to put the water jug in a small patch of shade.

“Oh. Okay,” I murmured, stepping back. “Hint taken. Leaving now.”

“Allie…” he all but groaned. His knuckles were white, his grip on the shovel handle tight. Everything about him, sweat, muscles, tan skin, intense eyes, and crooked smile, made my heart thump like crazy.

Maybe this was better?
“All good. You’ve got work to do.”

He reached out, but didn’t touch me. His gaze landed on my face for a second, no more. He let out a deep sigh, and his shoulders drooped, like he was deflating. “I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t take it. “What’s
wrong?
”

He stared at me, pulled off his hat, and wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. He didn’t say anything, no matter how much I wanted him to. The longer he looked at me, the harder it was to stay quiet. There was something in his eyes, some need or fear or…

“Why does something have to be wrong?” he asked, tearing his gaze from mine. He picked up the water bottle and took a long drink.

I shrugged. “You seem…I don’t know…”

He shook his head. “How are
you?
” His attention wandered along my neck, my cheek.

It was like he touched me. I breathed, “Fine. Good. Better.”

“I’m glad.” His voice was rough.

“Staying for dinner?” I asked.

“Can’t.”

“Oh.”
Why not? Say something. Anything
. I couldn’t make him talk to me.

“I got to get back to it, before the concrete sets up.” He grabbed the bucket handle, lifting it easily.

“Sure.”

He put his earbud back in and went back to work. And I stood there, like an idiot, waiting…for what?

I started back for the house but didn’t make it very far before I turned back. Wyatt had his back to me, all his energy focused on the task at hand. He was keeping me out. Why wouldn’t he? I’d made it perfectly clear I wasn’t interested. I might not have acted like it, but I’d told him “we” weren’t going to happen.

Maybe he’s just accepting what I told him?

I waited, hoping he’d turn around, hoping he’d look at me. Instead, I felt three pairs of eyes—all not Wyatt’s—watching me. Dax looked concerned. Dad thoughtful. And Levi…he was pissed.

I gave them a small wave. “I think I’m going to lie down.”

“Good idea,” my dad said.

11 CHAPTER ELEVEN

Wyatt was there every day, working, like normal. But everything was different. He brought his lunch and ate outside. He was still super polite to my parents, just distant. Every night my mother tried to convince Wyatt to stay for dinner. Every night he smiled, thanked her, and went home. I hated it.

Levi didn’t show up to help out again. That, I didn’t hate.

By the end of the week, the pasture was secure and ready for cows. Dad and Wyatt were going to buy calves early Saturday at some big sale…meaning Wyatt wouldn’t be going to the river with us. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t think of a way out of Saturday.

I was awake before my alarm went off but lay there, staring at the ceiling. I knew I needed to do this, to get out of the house and away from Wyatt before I made the huge mistake of telling him or showing him how crazy I was over him.

I’d get over it and he’d never know and life would go on. If there’s one thing I’d learned it was that life always goes on.

Dax was up—and whistling—at his end of the hall. Of course he was happy. Molly would be there, smiling at him, staring at him with her huge brown I-love-you eyes. I rolled over, punching my pillow.

The bounce of headlights and the telltale rumble of Dad’s truck drew my attention. I peered outside, into the still dark sky. I narrowed my gaze. The headlights were sort of blinding, enough to make out Dad…and Wyatt. They were checking the trailer, the tires, making sure everything was good before they hit the road.

They talked for a minute or two, and Dad went into the barn they’d started rebuilding. Wyatt stood there, hands on his hips, staring at the hood of the truck.

Not awake yet?
He rubbed a hand over his face. I smiled as he yawned.

I sat up, moving forward to the edge of the bed. I’d missed him, being close to him, talking to him, looking at him.
I can’t love you, Wyatt.

He turned, looking up at my window.

But I do.

Could he see me? Did I want him to see me? I stood up, hugging myself.

I saw him straighten, knew he’d seen me.

“Wyatt…” My voice trembled, I heard it. “Dammit.”