Waiting for Wyatt (Red Dirt #1)
Page 5
“Don’t have a panic attack.” I grabbed her for a quick hug. Tightening my grip, I waited for her to squeal, but she just stood there in the doorway.
“I want to meet him sometime.”
“Twins buried alive.” I joked, trying to lighten her mood. “You think they will send the Criminal Minds team? Or the CSI team? Or maybe both? And the FBI? Definitely the FBI.”
“I’m serious. I want to meet him.” Blaire pushed herself out of my arms.
“Okay. Just not today. It would be better not to spring it on him. I don’t think he would like a surprise.”
“You’re not helping yourself right now.”
Ignoring her flippant remark, I grabbed my keys. “Want me to drop you off at the library so you don’t have to ride your bike?”
“Sure. Just don’t forget to pick me up.” Her eyes squinted, causing the glasses to slip a bit on her nose. Absently, she pushed them back up with her finger.
“It was one time, Blaire. And if you drove, stuff like that wouldn’t happen.”
“I don’t need to drive.”
“Come on. The car is half yours too.”
“I ride in my half of it all the time.”
“You are graduating in less than a year. What are you going to do? I can’t drive you around forever.” I opened the apartment door, holding it wide as she came out behind me with the giant backpack. It must be awful to try to balance that thing on her bicycle.
“I’m not discussing this shit today.”
“We have to at some point. I could teach you. And you would get used to it. I promise.”
“I’m not letting someone with four speeding tickets teach me how to use a car. You are a terrible driver.”
“I drive perfectly fine.” As we reached the bottom of the steps, I glanced over to the manager’s office. Kurt stood in the doorway with crossed arms. His eyes followed both of us as we walked to the car.
“I think he’s hiding something,” she whispered. “He fits the profile.”
“If you don’t stop watching Criminal Minds, I’m going to cancel the cable.” I opened my car door, feeling his stare on my backside. The vile feeling returned in the pit of my stomach. Blaire might be half right this time.
I DROPPED MY SISTER OFF at the library and then stopped at Sonic Drive-In. I got two large Cherry Cokes. Hopefully, the ice wouldn’t melt before I got out to the kennel.
I pulled up close to the trailer. I didn’t see Wyatt anywhere outside. He didn’t know my schedule of dropping by each time, but the long pasture driveway had always given him plenty of notice to dodge inside his home.
I walked up the trailer steps with both Cherry Cokes. Balancing one against my chest, I knocked on the door. I knocked hard and loud five times, then waited. It was an old trailer. Paint flecked on the plastic shutters that outlined each window. I think they were red at one point, but the sun had faded them to a pink color. The tan siding was in the same shape.
I beat my fist against the door for a second time. The cheap aluminum rattled in the frame. I reached forward with my fist again, but the door opened, showing his familiar, hard face.
“I brought you a drink. It’s Cherry Coke.” I held out the cup for him to take from my hand.
Wyatt watched me with an odd expression. His T-shirt choice of the day appeared to be white again. And well, Wyatt’s hair only did one thing. The short pieces fell all natural on top of his head.
I bet his hair would feel soft if I touched it. I bet it would brush across my skin, making my neck feel tingly. I bet those soft lips would feel nice too. Except they smashed down into that thin line again as he stared at the Styrofoam cup. I shook the drink in his direction.
“Are you going to take it or what?”
He clasped the cup in his hand, brushing my fingers as I let go. A jolt shot up through my arm from the contact. I took a drink of mine, watching his bewildered expression. My peace offering caused a bit of confusion. Wyatt hesitated, looking at the red straw and then back at me.
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you hate Cherry Coke. I took a guess and I thought everyone likes cherry.”
“I like cherry,” he muttered in his raspy voice.
“Then what are you doing? It doesn’t mean anything. I was just being nice. You know, a thank-you for letting me come back out here.”
“Oh. Thank you, Emma.” And then he smiled. A real one. The first real one ever tossed in my direction. His pink lips stretched out with a flash of white teeth. The dimples fell right into place.
I froze. Wyatt Caulfield was incredibly good-looking when he allowed his face to open up and be seen by the world. So breathtaking and mysterious with the sadness still engrained in the creases around his eyes. He put the straw between those perfect lips. A look passed over his face. One of deep intensity and I think, pleasure? I felt like I was invading a private moment.
“Do you want me to leave you alone with that?” I laughed and took another drink of mine. My chest fluttered a little, watching him swallow.
“I was just thirsty. It’s been a while since—never mind.” He smiled faintly. The dimples came and went again, but not my attraction. It came in small tugs, pulling me to the damaged person who was hiding behind the frowns and broken smiles, pulling me closer and filling my head full of questions, filling my body with feelings that I pretended didn’t exist.
He took another drink and eyed me cautiously from the doorway. I looked past his wide shoulders to the secrets hidden inside the trailer. I didn’t expect to be invited in when I’d originally knocked on the door. But now, I was so close. I wanted to see inside the cave of the bear. Great! Now I was daydreaming about going inside his house. I needed to get out of here before I did something stupid to ruin my progress.
“Well, I’m going to see Charlie.” I turned to walk away. The door clicked shut, but his boots pounded down the steps. I smiled to myself. My idea of bringing him something nice seemed to work. I got him out of the trailer.
I walked toward the kennel, feeling his presence just a few feet behind me. I was curious. Did he watch me as I was walking? He knew I couldn’t see him. Glancing over my shoulder, his face betrayed nothing.
Once inside, I went straight to Cye. He stayed in that pathetic, hunkered-down pose in the far back corner. My heart lurched every time I looked at him. I felt angry, so very angry at the evil person who had done this to him. Only a monster would beat a dog with a hammer. A horrible, evil monster that should be locked in a cell with another evil monster that was conveniently slipped a hammer.
On my last two trips to the kennel, I brought something special for Cye. I’d put a little bone inside by the gate before I took Charlie out to the play area. When I came back, it was always gone. The ghost dog did venture out more than just at night. I had a plan for Mr. Cye too. By the end of summer, he would let me pet him. Slowly. I would have to use patience. I would have to wait until he was ready.
I opened the gate, crawling on my hands and knees inside the kennel. I placed his bone on the cement, a little closer than last time.
“It’s not gonna work.” I heard the raspy, deep voice and looked over my shoulder, seeing Wyatt leaned back against the gate on the other side. He watched me crawl backward out of the pen. He seemed slightly amused too. That was a new one.
“We will see.” I smiled at him.
“You don’t think I haven’t tried that one?”
I blew a blonde curl out of my eye as I stood up to face him. “Maybe he’ll take better to a girl.”
“Maybe.” He closed those puckered lips around the straw. Wyatt got that look again as he took another swig. I never thought a guy drinking a Coke would constitute as something sexy, but I grew mesmerized by the way he sucked on the straw. I shook off the feeling before turning around to the next pen. I stopped dead in my tracks.
“What? Where’s Chewy?” I spat it out. Terrible thoughts flashed through my head with all the horrible images I’d imagined since visiting this place. “
What happened to him, Wyatt?”
“Calm down. Nothing bad. Diana got him yesterday. She found a home for him.”
“So he’s, like, just gone? I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
“It doesn’t always work like that here, Emma.” His faced softened a little.
“Where’d he go?”
“Retired military guy. He lost a leg in Iraq. The scars on Chewy didn’t bother him.” He came over next to me. “That’s Daisy and Gatsby.”
I was so distraught over Chewy I’d failed to see the new occupants of the pen. Two old chocolate labs lay on the cement with their bodies intertwined together as they kept their heads down.
“Did you come up with those names?” I slipped a look in his direction, but he stayed focused on the brown dogs in front of us.
“Yes.”
“Did you name the others too?”
“Some.” He glanced over at me with that answer. “And yes, I like Will Ferrell.”
“What? I didn’t ask about Will Ferrell.”
“I assumed with all the questions that would be your next one. Did I name the car-chasing dog Ricky Bobby because I like Will Ferrell?”
“No.” I tried to frown at him, hiding the smile I got because he’d volunteered something without my asking.
“Really?” He studied me for a moment, then turned back to the pen in front of us. He took another drink and remained silent.
“So Daisy and Gatsby. What’s their story?”
He didn’t respond immediately. I braced myself, waiting for his deep voice to share another tale filled with heartbreaking details. “Well, the owner just died. The family didn’t want them either. They left the dogs in the house for three weeks before the neighbors figured it out.”
“They just left them?”
“Yes, and went back to Arkansas.”
“What did they think would happen to the dogs locked up in the house? It doesn’t make sense. That’s just . . . just so wrong.”
“I know.” His eyes softened with compassion toward my anger. “Some people are just selfish bastards, and it’s the animals who pay the price.”
I focused on the two dogs that morphed into one pile of chocolate fur. Each face was covered in gray hair that reflected their age. They seemed lost. They seemed alone. They seemed confused as to why they were left behind by the only person who had ever loved them.
Daisy and Gatsby asked why in a place where the question was forbidden. I closed my eyes for a moment. Each time his gruff voice told me a story, it never got any easier. Yet I continued to ask questions, knowing each answer came with heartbreaking consequences.
“Come on.” Wyatt touched my shoulder briefly and my eyes flew open. I saw a flash of tenderness before he shut it down. “Get Charlie out. I’ll get Gus.”
“Gus?”
Wyatt didn’t reply and left toward the exit, carrying his Styrofoam cup. I went to the end of the aisle and Charlie jumped so high he fell over backward. I opened the gate and the spotted dog flew into my arms. As I carried him outside, Charlie did his best to lick the carefully applied makeup off my face. Wyatt came out the front door of his trailer, clutching a white and brown Jack Russell.
I froze right in place. He was good at making the reaction happen, confusing me to the point that he rendered me speechless. And Wyatt did just that as he got closer and closer to where I stood with Charlie.
He was so incredibly cute when he allowed it to show. Wyatt seemed like a different person in this very moment. He seemed almost normal with the little dog tucked under his arm and the cup in the other hand.
I swallowed hard, trying to calm the feelings. I wanted to help him. I wanted to peel back every layer until I knew everything about him. But now I felt those other complicated thoughts. The slow burn of attraction flickered inside of me.
Taking a deep breath, I did my best to push it aside as he joined me on the path to the fenced-in play area. “So that’s Gus?”
“Yes.”
“What’s his story? He seems normal.” As normal as you right now, I wanted to add.
“Things are not always what they seem.” Wyatt scratched the dog under the chin, leaving my question unanswered.
We placed both of the little animals in the play area. Charlie pounced at Gus. They took off in a blur, around and around through the grass. I laughed, watching Charlie. He loved everyone. Diana would find him a home soon. It shouldn’t take much to get him adopted. I wondered if she tried or if Wyatt asked her to keep Charlie longer for me.
I sneaked a glance in his direction. He had a faint smile on his face and yet the sadness still radiated off his cheeks. It stayed just a little on the surface even on a day like today. This strange and rare day he’d opened up a few of his layers.
“Hold my drink.” I shoved it toward Wyatt. He took the white cup from my hand as I went running inside the pen. I chased the two dogs in circles. Laughing, I let them attack me down to the grass. They made me happier than I’d been in a long time. The adrenaline rush of doing something good was almost as intoxicating as the one I used to get while running. With the knee problems, I hadn’t been able to do that in a really long time.
As I rested in the grass, Gus attacked my hair, tugging it softly. I pulled him in a bear hug as Charlie jumped on top of me. I glanced over at Wyatt. A faint grin lingered on his lips. I crawled back to a standing position and chased the two little dogs to the other side of the pen.
I slipped another look over at Wyatt. He followed me with his green eyes. I knew he did the whole time as I acted like a complete idiot in the pen. It made those feelings happen again. I craved his attention. In this moment, with mysterious Wyatt, it felt special because I doubt he tossed much of anything out to the world. I doubt he gave many people the look he was giving me.
“Come in here with us.” I gave him a soft grin.
“Nah.” He shook his head.
He stayed firm in his spot. I got up and went back out to stand next to him. It was driving me crazy not to ask him questions. He gave an inch, and I wanted to run across the dang county with it. Slowly. I had to approach him slowly even though I really wanted to touch him. I wanted to touch his warm skin. I wanted to wrap myself around his body.
The truth is, I still knew virtually nothing about him. My feelings had progressed from questions to craving a full-blown physical attack. I needed to slow back down.
“How old are you?” The question slipped out.
Wyatt tilted his green eyes down in my direction, but he didn’t answer. He looked back inside the play area where Gus had Charlie tackled to the ground. He muttered in his raspy voice, “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“You don’t look that old.”
“We both get that a lot.”
“We?” He looked down at me again. I didn’t think about how I’d phrased that answer. I was so used to Blaire and I practically being the same person.
“Oh. I guess I haven’t mentioned it before. I have a twin sister.”
“There’s two of you?”
“I guess you could say that. We look alike, but we are very different.”
“Does she ask as many annoying personal questions as you?”
“Annoying personal questions? Really?” A flash of anger got the best of me, and I couldn’t stop the thoughts from coming out as actual words. “I’m not asking unreasonable things, Wyatt. I just asked how old you are. I didn’t ask if you have a girlfriend like the crazy kind that will show up at my apartment because I talked to you. Or if your life is complicated because you have, like, cancer or something and you’re hiding out in the woods from everyone. How old are you? It’s a simple, reasonable question. Waiters in restaurants even ask it when you order a drink.”
I regretted my outburst the moment the second word jumped off my lips. This wasn’t how I’d planned for our conversation to go today. Wyatt had made my thoughts flow out like verbal diarrhea, killing all the progress I’d made with the guy.
“I’m sorry.” I took a step back, giving him some space. “I didn’t mean to attack you. I’m really sorry.”
Wyatt glanced toward the kennel building for a moment, then back at me. He was contemplating storming off from our conversation. I read the idea written across his angry face.
“I’m twenty-two.” The words scratched from his lips like he’d swallowed one of those swords at the circus and had to cough it back up. “No girlfriend. No cancer.”
The expression on his face spoke to my very heart, beating fast in my chest. Those simple words seemed to break him.
I wanted to touch him. I wanted to comfort him. I wanted to pull his hard body into my arms. It was a strange mix of compassion and hardcore lust. Instead of touching Wyatt, I took another physical step backward, giving the beat-down man his space.
“I’m glad you don’t have cancer.”
“Emma, you don’t have a very good pokerface.”
“What do you mean?”
He let out a deep breath. “Look, if you’re gonna keep coming here, I’m just saying this upfront: don’t go home dreaming up any ideas. We are not getting involved with each other. And you’re not here to fix me.”
“So now you’re self-confident enough to think that I’m pining away for you as I fall sleep every night. We just met, Wyatt. I’m just trying to be nice.”
“Your face is transparent as hell, okay? I’m just warning you. I am not available for something like that. My life is really complicated. I’m just trying to make sure you understand before feelings get hurt and there’s crying and shit.”
“I get it, okay? Complicated. No personal questions. I’m not going home and writing your name in hearts or anything.” I smiled at him, trying to salvage the afternoon, trying to recover the damage, trying to pretend his stupid comments didn’t bother me. “I could just be your friend, you know. Could you do that much?”
“I don’t know, Emma.” His raspy voice hung on my name again.