Say You Want Me (6 page)

It’s official . . . I’ve lost my ever-loving mind.

~ Three Weeks Later ~

“I
MADE SPACE FOR YOUR
stuff in the closet,” Wyatt says as he unloads my car.

I’m living here.

In his house.

While I carry his baby.

“Thanks,” I say, trying to get my head on straight. I agreed to this, but I can’t stop myself from feeling as if I had been forced. But it’s me who is forcing this to happen.

After I left Bell Buckle with a plan, I became focused. I knew that the goal was to pack a few months’ worth of things, get Erin all set up, and find someone to watch my apartment. Presley, who was over the moon about my extended stay in Bell Buckle, recommended letting one of our bakers house-sit since she still lived at home with her parents. She was more than excited, and then I was moving—well visiting for a long period of time—to freaking Tennessee.

Wyatt called me at least once a week, probably to make sure I wasn’t backing out, and I did my best to sound hopeful. He told me he’d done some work in the house, and was looking forward to me coming. We spent no more than fifteen minutes on each call, but it felt like we said so much in those short periods. It seemed like he was truly excited, and he kept reiterating how much he wanted to spend this time together, which confused the shit out of me.

“I think that’s everything.” He puts the suitcase on the bed.

I nod, unable to find my voice. My hormones are a
mess,
and I can’t seem to stop myself from spontaneously bursting into tears. I had to pull over on the drive down because it became too much. I’m not necessarily sad. I’m overwhelmed. I’m living with my baby daddy, and I don’t have a job. I’m a walking disaster.

My eyes roam the small but cozy bedroom. Everything in Wyatt’s house is simple and has purpose. There are no decorations on the walls and there doesn’t seem to be anything here that doesn’t have a purpose. It’s clean but comfortable. The walls in his bedroom are painted a neutral cream color, the bedding is a blue down comforter with a ton of pillows. Seriously, the bed is pretty much completely covered with them. The only thing that stands out is the very large television mounted to the wall.

The rest of his house is the same. He clearly lives as a bachelor. The furniture looks as if it’s been around a while, maybe hand-me-downs from family or friends who were getting rid of stuff, yet each piece is cared for. He showed me around when I arrived, and while his house seems small, there’s a lot of space.

The room I’m most excited to use is the bathroom. Complete with the most amazing claw foot tub I’ve ever seen and a shower that could easily fit four people. The shower heads line the walls and there are two huge rainfall spouts up top. It looks heavenly.

I put away the rest of my stuff and turn to see Wyatt leaning against the door. “So,” my voice cracks a little, “what’s the plan?”

“Well, the plan is to get to know each other.” He moves toward me and sits on the bed with a grin.

I laugh. “While living together.”

“It’s like speed dating,” Wyatt muses. “We’ll use the time we have and see where it goes.”

“Well, we can at least skip the awkward after part. We’ve already tackled that. Oh, and the whole, ‘What happens if we get pregnant?’ talk.”

Wyatt and I both laugh. He takes my hand and pulls me on the bed next to him. “I’m not sure what exactly we should be doing, but we’ll figure it out. We take it one day at a time.”

At least he’s as lost as I am.

“I think we need rules.”

His brow rises. “Rules?”

“Yes. Rules,” I say sternly. “I have rules.”

“By all means.” He swipes his hand out in front of him.

Here we go. I’m pretty sure he’s not going to like this, but too freaking bad. “Absolutely no sex with each other or other people. No dating other people, either. No going to sleep angry. No using the baby as a way to get what we want. No snoring. No eating off my plate. Do not ever touch my coffee if you want to keep the use of your hands . . . those are my rules.”

The last one is really the most vital. But the rest are important as well.

Wyatt stares at me with a funny look on his face. “No sex? Don’t you think that ship has sailed?”

“Well, that ship sank, but it’ll be good for us to spend the next few months without complicating things more. So yeah, no sex.”

His grin grows wider. “What if you can’t handle being around me and jump my bones?”

“Not happening,” I retort.

If we’re going to try this, we’re going to do it right. Sex is what got us in this predicament to begin with, and I’ll be damned if we make things worse. I already know that the sexual chemistry between us is off the charts. Now, we need to see if the rest of what we’re going for has a chance or if it’s just the situation making us question it.

He stands, stretching his arms in the air while rotating back and forth. His shirt lifts, revealing his tanned skin and washboard abs. I gulp, unable to tear my eyes away from him. “I think the next few months are going to be interesting,” he muses. Wyatt crosses his arms, lifts his shirt off, and tosses it in the corner. “I’m going to hop in the shower.”

My mouth waters at the sight of his chest. Each part of his body is solid, and there’s not an ounce of fat on him. He’s ridiculous. Who the hell actually looks like this? It’s not normal.

I make a fist and glance away. If I stare, I’ll want to touch. If I touch, I’ll end up naked. That would be bad.

“Have fun.” I tuck my hair behind my ear.

“Angie?”

“Huh?” I keep my eyes down, pretending there’s something incredibly interesting on the ground in front of me.

“You okay?” His voice is smug, which breaks my staring contest with the floor.

“I’m perfect.” My eyes meet his, and I pull all my sass to the forefront. If I can stay angry or determined, I might be okay. “Pregnant, but perfect.”

He smirks. “Perfect.” He continues to look at me as he unbuttons his jeans. “I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Jackass.

“Nope.”

My stomach drops as his pants fall to the floor.

“Good.” Wyatt knows damn well what he’s doing.

The bite of my nails pressing into my palm stings. I stand without looking in his direction, and walk out of the room, slamming the door on my way. The bastard chuckles.

This is going to be a long three months.

I head into the living room and plop on the couch. I grab the book I brought with me and start reading this book of horrors about pregnancy. No one talks about this crap. They don’t talk about the joys of hemorrhoids and leaking bladders. They talk about the baby and how it felt when it kicked. I’m pretty sure Presley left out her nipples turning colors. Each chapter brings a new horrifying reality of what my body is going to go through.

Why the hell do girls have to go through this shit? Fucking Eve and her inability to stay away from that fruit. I blame her. I blame my sister-in-law for not sharing all this crap. I would’ve had my uterus removed if I had known I was going to have leakage.

Wyatt exits the bedroom, already dressed in his typical jeans and T-shirt attire, and I slam the book shut and sit stunned.

That really happens to some women while they’re in labor?

“What is that?” he asks looking at me with concern.

“This?” I hold the book up. “This is a fucking horror novel. Only it’s not fiction.
Nooo
, this is reality.” I toss it on the floor.

He bends to grab it, reads the title, and chuckles. “You have your own pregnancy guide in Presley. You don’t need to read this.”

I rise to my feet so we’re toe to toe. “You did this!” I point my finger at his chest.

“I’m pretty sure you were an active participant.”

So not the point.

“I’m going to get hemorrhoids! And droopy boobs!” His eyes travel to my chest and stop there. “Eyes up here, dipshit.”

“You said boobs.” Wyatt shrugs.

I groan, and Wyatt grabs my hips, pulling me close. My breath hitches as our bodies touch. “Stop freaking out. You’re beautiful, and you still will be after you have the baby.”

I fight the urge to cry. My hands rest on his arms as my head drops to his chest. “It’s so freaking much.”

“It is,” Wyatt acknowledges. “But relax a little, Angel. You’re not going to care about droopy boobs and whatever else when you’re holdin’ our baby.”

My heart flutters a little when he says that. I remember how I felt when I held Cayden and Logan, and they weren’t even mine. I can only imagine the way I’ll feel when I hold my own baby. “Maybe.”

He smirks and runs his hand up my back, holding me more securely to him. “You’ll see. I’m rarely wrong.”

I snort while shaking my head. “You’re nuts.”

“Maybe, but I have an idea . . . let’s grab some food and go out for a bit. It’s your first night in Bell Buckle and our first date.”

I shake my head and let out a sigh. “A date?”

“Yeah.” He pushes me back a little and gives me a smile that makes me want to set my panties on fire. “I’m takin’ you out on a date. So, go get yourself ready.”

This is the deal. I’m here so we can date and get to know each other. I have to be smart, though. I’m not staying here more than three months, so there’s no point in letting my heart get tangled up with his.

I have to guard myself. Because Wyatt is funny, sexy, smart, and it would be easy to fall for him. It was effortless when I allowed myself to sleep with him the first time. Then it was damn near impossible to stay away after that. The truth is . . . I like him. He’s a good guy.

Which is a bad thing for me.

I peek at him from beneath my lashes. “You don’t have to take me on a date.”

Wyatt’s finger lifts my chin as he studies my face. “I do. But more than that, I want to.”

“Oh,” I say as my eyes drift to his lips.

“Angie,” he says softly.

“Yeah?”

“What is the rule for kissing?”

I’m not sure what he’s asking. Something about rules and lips touching, but when his hands are on me, I go stupid. “Kissing is good.”

He doesn’t say another word. His lips press against mine and my brain shuts down. My fingers grip his shirt, holding him to me as his arms enclose around me. Kissing him is a full-body experience. I feel it all the way from my head to my toes. All I want to do is kiss him forever. His tongue glides against mine, and I moan. This is an otherworldly type of kiss. The kind that little girls dream of that makes everything else disappear.

It’s everything I remember.

Our tongues move in harmony, and his hands hold me exactly where he wants me. I don’t care, though. I wouldn’t think of moving away from him when his mouth is on mine. His lips are firm and his tongue demands access to every inch of my mouth. I lose all track of time as he kisses me as if I’m his reason for living. He’s in complete control of me right now, and that’s not a good thing, but I can’t find the wherewithal to stop him.

All too soon, he pulls back. “Kissing is very good. Kissing you is fucking unreal.”

I’m a fool. My rules are a joke. Kissing is going to lead very quickly to something else. I have to put a stop to it even though I want to do nothing but kiss him.

“Yeah.” I retreat a few steps and try to catch my breath. “Kissing is now one of my rules. No more kissing. Kissing is off limits.” I have to punctuate this so he knows I’m serious.

Wyatt’s eyes blaze as he stares at me. He steps toward me with purpose. “You think so?” His body moves closer, his voice turns deep, and sultry, and his eyes become soft. “You’ll be in my bed every night. You think you can keep your hands and lips to yourself?”

“Yup.”

He grins and nods. “If you say so. I love a challenge.”

I lean in close to his ear. “I can control myself.”

Wyatt lets out a low sound from his chest as he grips my shoulders. I lean back and see the desire in his eyes, but I see the restraint as well. “We’ll see about that.” He releases me and taps my nose.

“I’
LL HAVE A JACK AND
Coke, and she’ll have . . .” Wyatt trails off.

“A Sprite.”

The bartender nods, and we grab seats at the bar. For our first date, he took my pregnant ass to the bar. Because that’s completely romantic, and why not rub it in my face a little more that I can’t drink?