He says that like he knows all about women hogging the bathroom. Guess he’s probably had a lot of experience with women. I bet they were all beautiful models like his girlfriend. Whatever. My younger brother Caleb is a model. No big deal.
We follow him back to the sofa room. “Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the sofa, where Snowball is curled on top of his pillow.
He scoops her up. "What did I tell you about my pillow? I’ll get your bed." He turns to us. "Be right back."
Harper takes a seat on the sofa and gestures us over. Jenna and Audrey sit on either side of her, and I perch on the sofa arm on the opposite side from the pillow and blanket. I don’t want to touch his sleeping things. Too personal.
Garrett wanders around the room, poking at the ceiling and inspecting the windows. Wyatt returns and sets a pink and white paw-print doggie bed in front of the fireplace. Then he sets Snowball in it, chucks her under the chin, and heads over to Garrett. Snowball curls up and resumes her nap.
“I can see the potential,” Harper says to us. Wyatt and Garrett are across the room, deep into renovation talk.
“It’s going to be beautiful,” Audrey says.
“I can’t wait to see it when it’s done,” Jenna says.
“I don’t know why he comes into my restaurant so much,” I say. “He has a gourmet kitchen right here. Did you see the stove has six burners?”
Jenna laughs. “Gee, I can’t imagine why he goes to your restaurant so much.”
My friends titter. He has a girlfriend!
“He must be a terrible cook,” I say. “Now that his girlfriend’s in town, I haven’t seen him much. Maybe she’s cooking.”
And then she walks into the room, holding a laptop to her chest. She’s early twenties with dark brown hair that falls in a glossy wave to her shoulders, big brown eyes, delicate cheekbones, a cute doll-like mouth that’s sort of plump and pursed. She’s dressed casually in a pale pink tunic over black leggings with pink fuzzy socks.
She smiles at us. “Hi, everyone. I’m Kayla."
We all say hello. I watch as she hands over the laptop to Wyatt.
"Did you enjoy your chick flick?" he asks, tucking it under one arm.
She smiles. "Yes. I cried at the end."
"Of course you did." He looks at her feet. "Go put on shoes. I don’t want you stepping on a loose nail or getting a splinter."
She obediently turns and walks out of the room, presumably for her shoes. Wow. I certainly wouldn’t tolerate my guy ordering me around like that.
He flips open the laptop lid and walks over to the entrance of the room, yelling toward the ceiling. “And bring the charging cord, please!”
Well, at least he added a please at the end. Reminds me of my older brother Drew barking out orders military style.
“Wyatt, you ever been in the military?” I ask.
He turns. “No. Why?”
Because you order your girlfriend around. “No reason.”
He walks over to me, a small smirk on his gorgeous face. “Come on, Cindy, tell me why you asked. Do I sound like a drill sergeant?”
The room goes silent. I can feel my friends’ stares, probably anticipating I’m going to fight with him. No, I can be civil despite the smirk I’m desperate to smack off his face. And the fact that he purposely called me Cindy just to irk me.
“Actually, yes,” I say evenly. “You just ordered your girlfriend to put on shoes.”
He makes a face, looking at me like I have two heads. “Gross. She’s not my girlfriend. She’s my baby sister.”
My pulse shoots up. He’s single.
“What made you think she was my girlfriend?” he asks.
“I saw you with your arm around her at my restaurant.” I glance around for confirmation, but my friends look like they’re just enjoying the show. Should I pass out the popcorn?
He looks to the ceiling and blows out a breath before leveling an affronted look on me. “I had my arm around her because she was about to have a public meltdown. Some things are private, Sydney.”
He said my name. No Cindy to irk me. And he’s a protective big brother. I respect that.
I was lucky to have two awesome big brothers looking out for me when I was a kid. How else would I have made it through my teen years after Mom died? Drew and Adam taught me everything I needed to know, which boils down to be proud to be a Robinson and stand your ground. They expected me to be strong and speak my mind, even when riddled with teenaged insecurities. And I did, even though I sometimes wanted to hide. They set a good example too.
“That’s why you’re sleeping on the sofa,” I say quietly, thinking of the sacrifice he made for his younger sister. She must have his room.
He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, she just needs a break.”
I want to ask why, but it seems too nosy to ask.
Then he shocks me, sharing more about his sister all on his own. “Right now she’s in a vulnerable state.” His jaw tightens, and he glances behind him, checking if she’s there. He turns back to me. “She’s heartbroken, and when I finally get a name out of her, I’m going to make that guy’s life a living hell.”
My lips part in surprise. Taking his sister in, kicking ass on her behalf. He’s kind.
I sock him on the shoulder. “You’re a good big brother.”
“Why do you sound so surprised? And ow.” He rubs his shoulder.
I shrug.
He shakes his head and looks over at Snowball. He has a little white dog named Snowball. How adorable is that?
“I think it’s great,” I offer.
He looks back at me, one corner of his mouth turning up.
I find myself smiling. Then I realize everyone is looking at us and smiling. I drop the smile. The last thing I need is to hear all about how I have hearts in my eyes for Wyatt Winters on the drive home.
I don’t.
But I may have misjudged him.
7
Mondays are my day off from The Horseman Inn. It’s afternoon when I finally catch up on paperwork and move money around to keep our suppliers happy and staff paid.
My phone blares with a severe weather alert that reminds me we’re expecting a major snowstorm, nine to twelve inches of snowfall with gusting winds. Crap. I hope we don’t lose power. It happens regularly around here when downed trees take out wires, and that means I have to close the restaurant until the power is restored, which can take days. I have a backup generator that keeps the refrigerator and freezers going, but it’s not powerful enough for all the cooking and other essentials needed to stay open. Besides, most people won’t venture out until the roads are cleared of trees and downed wires. I’d better make a run to the grocery store for some essentials.
It’s just a short walk to the small grocery in town, so I put on my black down coat, gray knit cap, and snow boots. When I get there, the store isn’t crowded. Most people stocked up this weekend, but I was working then.
The shopkeeper, Nicholas, looks the same as always—like Santa. He’s an older man with white hair, a long beard, and a potbelly. And he’s got the name, like St. Nicholas. He plays Santa at the annual holiday pancake breakfast. When I was a kid, I was in awe that I could see Santa year-round, though he explained he was just Santa’s helper.
“Hi, Nicholas,” I say.
“Hello, Sydney. I’m shutting down in half an hour, so you made it just in time. Have to get home before the storm.”
“I won’t be long.” I make my way to the refrigerated section in the back of the store in search of milk and cookie dough. After I find those essential items, I take a look around for anything I might’ve missed. I have bread, but you know what I don’t have? Ice cream. I could make chocolate-chip-cookie ice-cream sandwiches. I get a carton of vanilla ice cream and head toward the cash register. My heart jumps into my throat.
It’s him.
Wyatt is standing at the register in a long black wool coat and black boots. I’ve seen him at The Horseman Inn a few times ov
er the last week, but he was with his sister, so we didn’t talk much. His eyes meet mine briefly and then drop to the snowstorm supply I’m carrying. “Just the essentials, huh?”
“I sense judgment.” I try to see what he’s buying, set out on the counter, but he shifts, his large shoulder blocking the view. He takes out his wallet and hands over a hundred-dollar bill to Nicholas. “Here. Keep the change.” He grabs his items and tucks them inside his coat pockets. On the inside pockets too, like it’s supersecret.
Nicholas looks concerned. “This is way too much, Wyatt. Hold on now. I’ll get your change.”
I grin and set my stuff on the counter. “Hmm…small enough for your pockets, but embarrassing enough to hide. What could it be?”
“None of your business,” Wyatt mutters. Oh my God, the back of his neck is red. It must be something good. Wyatt turns to Nicholas. “Keep the change, really.”
“I can still count just fine, young man!” Nicholas exclaims as he slowly digs through the cash drawer, getting a little huffy about a perceived age slight. He hands over the change, and Wyatt reluctantly takes it.
“Thanks,” Wyatt grumbles.
“Is it a pack of cigarettes?” I ask, stepping close. “Nasty habit.” I ruffle his hair to distract him as my other hand pulls open his unbuttoned coat. A box of tampons sticks out of his inside pocket.
His cheeks pinken. “Happy now? They’re for my sister. Obviously.”
My knees actually go weak, warmth stealing through me. None of my brothers would ever be caught dead buying me tampons. “Is that all?”
He looks to the ceiling, and the blush moves from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “She had a craving for peanut M&M’s.”
I don’t know what comes over me, but I suddenly want to spend time with this man. Like right away. “Maybe she’d like a chocolate-chip-cookie ice-cream sandwich too. I could make some for you both.”
He studies me warily. It’s almost like he thinks we don’t normally get along. Ha-ha.
“I’m being sincere,” I say. “It’s nice what you do for her. My brothers would never—”
He cuts me off. “Sure, stop by with your ice-cream sandwiches. You guys can do the whole girl-talk thing.”
“Okay. Lemme pay, and I’ll be right over.” I figure I can get in and out for a visit before the worst of the storm. It’ll be hours before the roads are impassable. His place isn’t far from mine.
He backs up a step, studying me for a moment before he nods once and leaves.
Nicholas scratches his head. “That one is a little odd, dontcha think?”
My mind goes back to the hippy founders of Summerdale, and the traditions we still have from them—shows performed in the big red barn, the found-items flotilla races, clam bakes at the lake, even though the clams are from the grocery store and don’t grow in our lake. Our tamale-delivering mailman, among other odd people in town. “Actually, I think he fits right in.”
The cookies are ready to go within an hour, and I know I should get going, but I find myself in my room, going through my clothes rack. The room is too small for a dresser, and the tiny closet holds my jackets and shoes. What I’m wearing—sweatshirt and jeans—won’t do. I want to look presentable. I’m not trying to impress. Nothing like that. It’s just important to take the time once in a while to look nice when you go out.
I settle on a soft green V-neck sweater with black skinny jeans and my high-heeled black leather ankle boots. Jenna calls them my first-date boots because they’re impractical to wear for long, but they show off my legs. First dates are universally uncomfortable displays. Of course, this isn’t a first date. I’m just visiting some friends, one who’s in need of some womanly conversation, and one who isn’t as bad as he seemed. I get that warm feeling in my chest again. I can hardly think someone who would buy his sister tampons is Satan. He definitely looked less satanic today, even with a red face.
I stop in my tiny bathroom for a quick visual inspection in the mirror. When I can finally afford an apartment of my own again, the first requirement will be counter space. This bathroom only has enough room for a pedestal sink, toilet, and small shower. It’s all done in white, except the floor, which is black and white penny tiles. Very utilitarian. I pull my hair band out and grab a brush from the medicine cabinet, brushing out my long hair, one of my best features. I’m just being practical. When it’s cold out, leaving my hair down keeps my neck warm. Just a little makeup to look presentable, a spritz of honeysuckle perfume, and I’m ready to go. My stomach flutters.
I put a hand to my stomach and take a calming breath. “This is not a date.” I look myself in the eyes in the mirror. “Chill. Not a date.”
I head out, grab my purse and the cookies, and stride to the stairway that leads to the rear exit of the restaurant. I’m halfway down the stairs when I realize I forgot the ice cream. I go back for it and leave again, mentally reviewing if I need anything else as I hurry down the steps. I’m not usually so scatterbrained.
I make the short drive to Wyatt’s place, which I could theoretically walk to, except it’s about a mile down a long road and then across a major thoroughfare with lots of drivers going more than the 50 mph speed limit, and at the top of a steep hill. Besides, it’s freezing out, and I’m wearing my impractical boots. Not first-date boots. They’re just regular boots that show off my long legs because I want to look presentable for friends. Really.
I park in his driveway and look over to my right at the lighthouse. Now that we’re on speaking terms, would he give me a tour of it? It’s just the kind of weirdness I love. I gather my bag of goodies and get out of the car, spotting Snowball in the window, barking at me.
“Hi, pretty girl!” I ring the doorbell and bounce on the balls of my feet, energy coursing through me.
The door pops open a few moments later to Wyatt holding Snowball like a football under his arm. “What’s the password?” He looks left to right like there’s spies around here.
I stifle a laugh. “Ice-cream sandwiches?”
“Close enough.” He jerks his head and steps back to let me in.
I walk inside, looking around for any changes. Nothing different in the living room. I was here a little over a week ago, so I’m curious what the crew did.
He sets Snowball down. “I’m going upstairs for a minute. Go ahead to the kitchen.” He gestures me toward it and heads upstairs.
Snowball looks up at me expectantly.
I walk toward the kitchen and Snowball follows. I set my stuff on the island counter and crouch to pet Snowball. “What a sweet pup you are,” I coo. Her little tail wags and she goes up on her hind legs, putting her paws on my chest. “Aww, are you trying to hug me?” I stand and cuddle her close, stroking her silky fur. She leans her head against my neck.
Wyatt appears in the kitchen a few moments later, standing across the island from me, staring.
“What?” I ask.
“She really likes you. That’s her hug when she puts her head on your neck and rests her paws on your shoulders.”
I shift to look Snowball in the eye. “Of course you like me. I’m very likeable and I brought food.” I set her on the ground, and she sits down, looking up at me adoringly.
Wyatt flashes a dazzling smile, and my breath quickens. When he’s not smirking, he’s stunning. There’s something about that sexily rumpled dark hair, whiskey-colored eyes, and sensual lips. The beard is hot too. He’s dressed casually in a navy thermal shirt, faded jeans, and sneakers.
I realize I’ve been checking him out a smidge too long. “I love your kitchen. Did you pick out this stuff or hire an interior designer?”
He spreads his arms. “All me, baby.”
“I’m impressed.”
He pulls his phone from his jeans’ pocket. “I’ll see what’s keeping Kayla. I told her you were here.” He presses a button and holds the phone up to his ear. A moment later, he asks her, “Are you coming down for ice-cream cookie sandwiches? They’re freshly made.” He
shakes his head. “I told you not to eat all the M&M’s. Sharing size means there’s enough for two people.” He listens for a moment. “I get the craving thing, but—no, I’m not mad. Okay, bye.” He looks at me. “She stuffed herself with M&M’s. Guess it’s just us for ice-cream sandwiches.”
“No problem. I’ll make up a bunch and leave them in your freezer. She can have one whenever she’s ready.”
I get to work, unpacking the items. The cookies were still cooling when I left, so I figured I’d assemble them here. “I brought an ice-cream scoop. I didn’t know if you’d have one.”
“What am I, a caveman? We’re fully stocked here with all the essentials. Ice-cream scoop, pizza slicer, marshmallow-roasting sticks.”
“Except furniture.”
He inclines his head. “I’ve got stuff in storage, and I’ll buy more once the renovation is done. I’ll get plates.” He goes to a cabinet.
“Hi, Sydney.” Kayla appears in the kitchen in an oversized gray sweatshirt, baggy sweatpants, and flip-flops. No makeup, her dark hair in a messy bun. “Thanks for bringing this stuff. Wyatt didn’t tell me you were making ice-cream sandwiches until just now.”
Wyatt sets a stack of large plates and napkins on the island. I shoot him a look. “You can’t blame her for binging on chocolate if she didn’t know.”
“I thought she’d have better sen…” He trails off at Kayla’s withering glare. “All good. You can have an ice-cream sandwich tomorrow.”
I smile at her. “I’m going to make a bunch. You won’t miss out.”
“Thanks,” she says. “I just haven’t been feeling myself lately.” She shuffles over to the sink, helping herself to a glass of water.
“Sorry to hear it.” Wyatt mentioned she was heartbroken, and I don’t know how serious it was, but it must’ve been a hard breakup if she went to big brother for help and stayed this long—it’s been at least two weeks. My own breakups have been soothed just fine with the help of my friends. And even though it hurt, I always knew it was for the best. When something’s not working, it’s better to cut ties.
Fetching: A Frenemies to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Unleashed Romance, Book 1) Page 6
