Obviously, inebriated chuckling was his response. “Aww, come on, Wy, you’re supposed to be the cool one. Always fun, never serious. Hell, you didn’t even pick a real career. Although I gotta say, you got more cash than Tanner, which is pretty damn impressive.” Another bark of laughter. “Even Dean managed to drag his ass to college, but not good ole Wyatt. Nope. He took off before the ink dried on his high school diploma.”
A drunk brother was exactly what Wyatt didn’t need at that moment. He rubbed the gritty sleep from his eyes and, with a soft kiss to the crown of her head, disengaged himself from a slumbering Gigi. Who snored, even though she’d vehemently deny it. She reached for him as he rose out of the bed, and he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t love her need for him, even half asleep. “I’ll be right back, Angel.”
He stood as close to the door of the hotel as he could and kept his voice barely above a whisper so Gigi would have a chance of sleeping through what he hoped would be a very short drunk dial. “Listen, Connor, I don’t know what the hell your problem is, but calling me to throw insults in the middle of the night isn’t exactly endearing. What’s crawled up your ass other than cheap whiskey?”
“Not cheap, Wy, I’m drinking top shelf stuff.” A glass connected with something hard, and the bang echoed over the phone line. “Three thousand, six-hundred thirty dollars’ worth.”
He shook his head to desperately try to clear the cobwebs left behind by the deep sleep he’d been so rudely pulled from. “If you drank three thousand dollars’ worth of alcohol tonight, I’m driving you directly to the hospital for a liver transplant.”
Connor laughed. “Not all tonight, but that’s why I’m calling. I need a ride home.”
Why had he decided to move home again? And when in the blue hell did he become the responsible brother that was called on to be the designated driver? “Can’t Kelsey come pick you up?” A creak from behind drew Wyatt’s attention to where Gigi stood beside the bed wearing nothing but one of his shirts.
The deafening silence from the other side of the line was telling enough to wipe away the lusty thoughts that had been swirling in Wyatt’s brain. A silence he was far too familiar with. “Where’s Kelsey, Connor?”
Since Connor first started dating Kelsey, they’d been as disgustingly attached and starry-eyed as Tanner and Izzy. That same sickening love he’d locked away twelve years ago when he left and was now desperate to find again. Gigi walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist, righting his world with the simple act.
“Gone.” The single word was empty. And eerily sober. Followed by a hollow laugh. “But she left the ring, and I just couldn’t think of a better way to use the money I got from returning it than to finance a little fun.”
Wyatt closed his eyes and tipped his head back with a sigh. “Where are you?” This had just jumped from an innocent night out that got carried away to rescuing his brother from something much more serious. Something he could relate to far too well.
The first few months without Gigi would have been filled with far more debauchery if Wyatt hadn’t been scraping together his loose change for basic survival. The early days of his career were financially tight to a level he’d never confessed to his family. They would have swooped in and saved the day, and the last thing he wanted was to keep being the designated Carlisle screw up. He’d had enough of that in school when he never seemed to quite measure up to Tanner in anyone’s eyes.
Except Gigi. His hold on her tightened as Connor relayed the address of the dive bar that would be closing in thirty minutes. Gigi wasn’t impressed by anyone, ever, but she damn sure knew how to look at him in a way that never made him feel less than ten feet tall. Even when he was failing miserably in school, she didn’t pity him and didn’t let him feel sorry for himself.
Yeah, she was worth every ounce of the energy it took to put up with her rules and guidelines.
He clicked off the call and pulled Gigi a little closer, pressing his lips against the crown of her head. “There are ten thousand things I would rather do right now than drag my brother’s sorry ass out of some bar. And most of those things would involve you and seeing what it would take to sweet talk you out of that shirt.”
She leaned back in the circle of his arms. “Everything okay?”
Wyatt’s fingers trailed up and down her spine, and he sighed. “Connor’s fiancée broke up with him and he’s taking it about as well as I did.”
Gigi arched a brow. “I think you’ve taken one too many falls from bulls and had one too many head traumas there, Cowboy. I didn’t break up with you.”
With a final squeeze, he reluctantly let her go and headed into the chair in the corner of the room to pull on something a little more substantial than the boxers he was sporting. “Yeah, well, you always did call me a stupid freaking cowboy. You were right in more ways than one.”
Just as he got his jeans around his waist, two small hands snaked around him from behind, tracking up his abdomen. Her lips pressed between his shoulder blades before her cheek rested against his back. “What can I do to help?”
His palms held hers in place, and his eyes drifted closed. The temperamental side that he controlled with frequent reminders of his dumbass decisions that landed them here in the first place sparked. “Nothing. Helping out with lovesick, drunk family members doesn’t fall under the ‘friends with benefits’ responsibility heading.”
Her fingers stilled, and the iceberg his words created between them sent a chill down his spine. That was clearly not the right choice.
“Screw you.”
Normally, he’d bring himself under control. Remember that the entire point of moving home was to fix everything he’d broken, not destroy it more. Unfortunately, his mouth failed to get the memo in time. He tugged the shirt over his head and spun around to face her. “That’s all I’m good for, isn’t it?”
Silence blanketed the space between them. He wanted to take back his words, to apologize, to tell her he didn’t mean that and tell her that actually her offer meant more to him than anything had in a long time. But more than all of that he wanted her to argue with him and swear she saw him as more than just a hook-up. That she saw them as more than a hook-up.
Instead, she pursed her lips together in a thin line. “You better go get Connor before he does something stupid. I need to get home to Gram anyway; her sleep schedule is completely messed up.” She waved a hand around the room. “This was a nice idea, but…” She shrugged and collected her clothes, disappearing into the bathroom moments before he shoved his hat on his head, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door.
***
Georgia
For half the morning, Georgia scanned through Wyatt’s financial statements. Going line by line with a fine-toothed comb in a so far fruitless attempt at decoding where the funds disappeared to.
Although one name kept popping up over and over on repeat. Integrity Investments. Consistent withdrawals, the same amount every month, never a deposit. When she’d had Wyatt list his expenses, assets, and essentially everything he could think of down to the electricity bill, he hadn’t mentioned any investments. He’d listed his 401k—which was handled through a national corporation with a reputable representative that didn’t raise any red flags for her—but not a peep about a separate company.
And a small one at that. The best her brief research had offered was a very basic website with many of the links, especially the all important company profile section, “under construction.”
Her furrowed brow and the downturn of her lips disappeared with a tap on her partially opened office door and a slow, exaggerated drawl.
“Well, hey there, Gigi. I hear you were looking for me.”
She swiped the papers aside, hastily shoving them into the manila folder and tucking it back into the center drawer of her desk. “Hey, yourself, Cowboy.” Her eyes darted past him to the members of her design team milling about the open concept floor plan. Open other than her office which very much needed the
privacy it afforded. Now. “Close that door please, Mr. Carlisle.”
His deep chuckle vibrated through the air and shook the defenses she erected each time he entered her workspace. Wyatt crossed the floor and dropped into the chair across from her, throwing his ankle up on the opposite knee and reclining back in the seat easily. “Only you could possibly make that ‘Mr. Carlisle’ bullshit sound sexy as hell.”
Prickles of heat ignited along each cell in her body with his words, and she tried desperately to find her resolve. “We’re in my office where I’m the boss and you’re the client. ‘Mr. Carlisle’ is the only thing that can exist inside these four walls.”
The corners of his mouth tightened, and his deep blue eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes, Ms. Marsh. You’ve mentioned more than once exactly where we stand.”
Georgia bit back the sigh that threatened to escape at his tone. She wanted to give him the all clear. To tell him that the Cowboy could be reinstated in every way because that’s exactly what she wanted. Last night when she finally got her grandmother settled back in bed after a particularly confusing round of “who are you and where is my husband,” she let her tears soak her pillow, wishing for nothing more than to have Wyatt’s arms around her getting her through the second painful loss. A much more insidious one than her mother’s cancer had been.
She was certain surviving her mother’s death would have been harder if Wyatt hadn’t been there comforting her, supporting her, and making her take the next breath when she simply didn’t want to. But if he shot to that level of importance in her life again and disappeared…she wasn’t so sure she’d bounce back again.
“Before we send these to mass production and make more than you know what to do with, I want to make sure you approve of the styles, final logo design and placement, and material.”
She set the stack of merchandise on the desk between them. When he reached up to grab a shirt off the top, she moved her hand forward to rest on top of his. Their gazes locked, and she hoped her eyes managed to convey all the things words failed to do. That she was grateful he was back and they were together in whatever way they could be. That she was trying, even if he didn’t think so. That she still loved him and never really stopped.
At least some of her silent pleas must have resonated as the corner of the mouth that spent almost every night wreaking havoc on her body and scrambling her brain kicked up in a familiar and irresistible smirk. He gave her fingers a quick squeeze before they both settled into their roles, focused solely on business.
As solely as she was able to manage as the musky scent that was inherently Wyatt swirled around her. His long digits stroked across the roughened material of the tote bags, and he made a comment she couldn’t manage to register as her brain merrily skipped down the X-rated path of memories they’d created over the past few weeks.
“These are great, Gigi—” He rolled his eyes heavenward. “I mean Ms. Marsh. You already know I loved your concept and design, but this execution is…”
Her recently contoured brows lifted. “Great?”
Wyatt scrubbed his hands down his face and slumped back in his chair. “Yeah, they are. But as things stand right now, I’m barely—and I really do mean barely—going to be able to fund the completion of the competition arena and boarding buildings.” His cheeks puffed out before a heavy sigh escaped. “I can’t finish the house. How the hell am I supposed to be able to stock merchandise?”
She swallowed; the first threads of the idea she was about to suggest had begun to tickle the periphery of her mind the day after Wyatt had finally confessed to the financial issues he’d fallen into. First she wanted to take time to see if a simple miscalculation was to blame. Even though she was positive the fault didn’t lie with Wyatt not being prepared for an eventuality—his plan had covered nearly every possible roadblock and obstacle—she also was just as certain she wasn’t going to be able to solve the mystery in time to meet all his deadlines and keep him on schedule.
Her alternate idea would be ideal if only Wyatt could set his stubborn pride aside long enough to listen. “About that…”
Intense sapphire eyes pinned her with highly focused attention. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “Did you find something to explain what the hell happened to my money?”
“No, well, not yet. I think I’m getting close, but nothing definitive yet.” It wasn’t a lie; her gut was screaming at her that the key was hidden somewhere within the enigma that was Integrity Investments. “But I have an alternative.”
Even the vigorous shake of his head couldn’t dislodge the hat perched there. “I already told you I’m not going to borrow the money from my dad or Tanner or bring Carlisle International in as any sort of investor. No.”
Georgia dipped her chin. “Don’t comment, Cowboy. Just listen.”
A ghost of a smile, laced with a trace of arrogance, curled his lips. “Breaking your ‘no flirting in the office’ rule there, Gigi.”
Her lids shuddered as she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “My point is I have an idea that doesn’t involve any member of your family participating other than buying a corndog at the rodeo.”
Wyatt chuckled and linked his fingers together, dangling his hands between his knees. “All right, white flag waved. Go ahead.”
“Before you argue or gripe or storm out, promise you’ll listen to my entire proposal.” At his amused nod, she continued. “You’re already working with Elias personally and JBA as a whole. As it stands right now, he plays a minor role. You’ve proven that you still have an uncanny ability to charm the pants off every man, woman, and child within a seventy-mile radius with that ridiculous rhinestone cowboy persona and intentionally embellished southern accent.”
He leaned back in his chair again, propping his ankle on his knee, his bobbing foot the only indication he was anything less than at ease. “Thanks for the compliment there, Gigi.”
She affected the sternest face she could and pointed an accusatory finger his way, her twitching lips the only tell that she wasn’t as immune to him as she’d like to believe. “You were supposed to stay quiet.”
Wyatt mimicked zipping his lips and tossed the imaginary key over his left shoulder with a blinding grin.
Focus, she instructed her wayward brain. “If you increase Elias’s role within RA Ranch as a whole rather than just having him as a sponsor for the competition, you’d be able to complete all the business-related buildings and have enough of a bankroll leftover to stock merchandise, hire a food truck, and function with something resembling a staff at least until after the competition.” She shrugged. “If it’s successful enough, you might be able to repay the investment in full and go your separate ways.”
His foot stilled. The rise and fall of his chest slowed. But his eyes never left hers. “Did he already approve this?”
“I was waiting until we talked, but…” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “But the man talks about you like you’re his long-lost son. I wouldn’t be shocked if he said he wanted you to join him for Christmas dinner.”
The silence that stretched between them grated her every raw nerve. Georgia uncrossed and recrossed her legs at least a dozen times as the painful, deafening quiet engulfed them in its agonizing gaping maw.
Finally, he stood, fished in his pocket for something, and dropped a coin on the desk in front of her. “Flip ya for it?”
She blinked up at him. “Heads you talk to him and take whatever help he offers, tails you… what?”
“Heads I will talk to Elias with an open mind and tails…” He hooked a finger beneath her chin, his thumb stroking across the cleft in the middle. “Tails you let me take you on a real date.”
Georgia nodded, unable to find the words to agree. When the shining disc landed face up, her brain battled against the aching disappointment clawing at her heart and claimed control of her mouth. “We could always do both.”
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Georgia
Just as she closed her locker door, arms encircled her waist and had her off her feet, swinging through the air, before Georgia could even find the words to yelp out a protest. Or kick her faceless assailant in the crotch. Fortunately the spicy musk scent that would forever be ingrained on her mind registered quickly. “What the hell, Wyatt?”
His deep laughter vibrated against her back and sent a chill racing down its length. “Well, take a look for yourself, Angel.”
Georgia’s eyes filled with tears as she scanned down the paper he shoved in her hand. Five weeks of dogged studying practically every day at her house after school, creative rewards for each improving test score, and stolen kisses when her grandmother’s back was turned or her grandfather took the dogs for a walk had finally paid off. “You got a C.”
She spun in the circle of his arms just in time to catch the crimson stain across his cheekbones as he dipped his chin. Her heart ached. This ridiculous cowboy was sexy when he was cocky and obnoxious, but ever since he confessed to his struggle with his classes, his unexpected vulnerability wormed its way deeper in her heart. She couldn’t control the emotional response to seeing his hard work pay off.
He lifted a shoulder without meeting her gaze. “It isn’t an A, but it’s enough to get my restrictions lifted and get back to training and—”
Her mouth swallowed the rest of his words as her lips melded with his. She poured every ounce of pride and love into the action, words unable to encompass the depth. Her tongue snaked between his teeth, stroking along the length of his.
Wyatt groaned against her mouth, pressing his palm into the small of her back, lining the planes and the curves of their bodies together like jigsaw puzzle pieces.
“I’m proud of you.” She barely managed to pant out the words between labored breaths. She cradled his face between her palms. “I don’t care that it isn’t an A, Wyatt. You worked your ass off and studied so hard, and I am so damn proud of you.”
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