“He’s handsome,” I said.
“Smart too,” Duke smiled. “They both are.”
“No doubt,” I said because it was true. All the Morgans were intelligent in their own way.
Making sure we remained on task, Bev said, “Mr. Morgan, we intentionally came to you because we weren’t sure how to approach Wyatt about working with us on the rodeo.”
His eyes still on the children, Duke said, “Oh, no need for that. You can count on him. I’ll take care of it.”
Straight-up horrified that Duke Morgan was now going to be the driving force behind manipulating Wyatt into helping me—with both the rodeo and hopefully an orgasm—I whined, “No, no, you don’t have to do that.”
His voice radiating reassurance and maybe something a little sillier, Duke spoke. “Caroline, I promise. He will be happy to help.”
Would he? Did Duke know something I didn’t?
5
Wyatt
I slammed the door of my truck and dragged my ass toward the trailer that served as the office for the Central Montana Fairgrounds. I was not happy. God, I was so not happy. I couldn’t believe that my dad signed me up to work with Caroline on this project. Honestly, I sort of understood why he would think I’d want the job, but he really should have asked me first.
The job itself sounded amazing. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be the master of ceremonies at a rodeo for kids—especially kids who didn’t normally get to enjoy the rodeo. That was good work. Rewarding work. The kind of work that any well-raised cowboy takes on without giving it a second thought. And obviously Caroline and Bev didn’t know shit about the rodeo. Why they decided to host an event like this was beyond me. Seemed like Bev would have been more likely to suggest something like Shakespeare in the Park but whatever.
I didn’t want to work with Caroline. Honestly, I didn’t want to think about Caroline. I made it my business to make sure we didn’t run into each other after the infamous exam room debacle, but somehow she was with me wherever I went. When I was playing with Molly, I wondered if Caroline liked kids. When I was telling a joke, I considered if Caroline would laugh. When I was hanging with my family, I pictured Caroline and knew she would fit right in. Hell, if I was eating an egg salad sandwich, I wanted to call her to ask if she wanted half. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. And now, I was going to have to work with her weekly, if not daily. I was going to die of blue balls. That’s what it would say on my death certificate—death by denial of testicular desire.
I pulled open the metal door and entered the lobby of the trailer. The Central Montana Fairgrounds had a particularly good decorator because once you were inside, it was pretty easy to forget that you were in a prefab building. They’d really done the whole thing up. The walls were pale yellow with white crown molding. It felt a little like a doctor's office, and of course I thought, oh good, at least Caroline will be calmed by the surroundings. Then I silently scolded myself for concerning myself with her feelings. Caroline was not mine to be concerned over.
There was a reception desk and the woman behind it was Carly Richards. She was four years behind Caroline and me in school, closer to Cody’s age. I’d had a tiny thing with her once—some kissing and petting one night after beers at Sadie’s and Carly never made it a secret that if I was willing, she was interested. I wasn’t. There was nothing wrong with Carly. She was lovely. In fact, she was exactly the kind of girl that suited me, but it just didn’t zing. So we flirted, but I didn’t really toy with her. I didn’t want her getting the wrong idea.
“Well, Wyatt Morgan.” Carly smiled, batting her eyelashes like a cartoon. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Crossing to lean on the counter in front of her and pathologically unable to control my charm, I grinned. “Hey, lady, I didn’t know you worked here.”
She stood and tapped me in the center of my chest. “You haven’t been to Sadie’s lately. You know I’m always hoping I’ll run into you.”
“Me?” I teased. “Pretty thing like you? What would you want with an overgrown cowpoke?”
She broke into girl giggles at my self-deprecation and swatted her hands, physically saying, oh, you silly man.
This was the moment when Caroline walked in. I turned toward her. She came through the door in a rush, but when she saw me she stopped short, eyeing up the situation. I could feel what the interaction looked like. Carly was close, and her body language was all flirtation. The flustered flurry of rushing fell from Caroline’s face and was replaced by a certain tightness. I couldn’t tell if the tension was anger, frustration, or jealousy. My stomach flipped, twirling with excitement at the idea that me chatting up a pretty girl would make her jealous. But then my brain remembered that making Caroline Winchester jealous was not what I wanted to do.
I smiled, a big warm, friendly smile. “Hi, Caroline.”
“Wyatt,” she said with a stern bob of her head.
I turned back to Carly. “I’m sure you remember Caroline Winchester.”
Sweetly—completely ignorant of the mood I’d easily assessed in Caroline—Carly said, “Sure, the girl genius. I’m not sure we’ve really met, though.” Carly was so warm, genuine. She stuck out her hand to shake Caroline’s. “Four years is a mighty big difference when you’re kids.”
Caroline approached the desk. She shook Carly’s hand but she was icy. So icy that I almost felt like laughing. Her response to Carly was straight-up ridiculous, and I was starting to think she really was jealous.
She managed to spit out, “We have an appointment.”
Caroline was a bossy thing when she was—well, whatever she was in that moment. And it was only then that Carly seemed to realize Caroline and I were connected, that Caroline’s appointment was my appointment too.
Still smiling and like she was surprised, Carly said, “Oh! Of course you do. Let me just buzz Joe. I’m sure he’s ready for y’all.”
Joe McCartney had managed the fairgrounds my whole life. He was one of those guys who belted his pants under his belly, combed over his hair, and always looked and smelled like he’d just finished a cigarette. Carly picked up the phone, hit a button, and then into the receiver said, “Your appointment is here.” She nodded, put the phone down, and then turned to Caroline to say, “Won’t be a minute.”
Caroline turned to take a seat, but not before indicating silently to me that I should sit too. Carly pouted a little as I walked away and held her hand to her ear like it was a phone, mouthing, call me maybe.
Once we were seated, Caroline spoke quietly. “They still fall all over you, I guess.”
It wasn’t a compliment, but it wasn’t an insult either. It was almost like she couldn’t help herself. I wasn’t sure what to say so I joked, “Obviously, I’m irresistible.”
She smirked. “And so humble.”
We were both quiet for a beat before she said, “Thank you by the way. I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t agree to help me.” And then as if it was an afterthought, she said, “And Bev. Help me and Bev.”