The idea of that burned my gut more than the whisky. I hated the idea of him touching another woman, much less marrying one, which was idiotic considering all that had happened and all the time we’d been apart.
In the end, I couldn’t go for the fake marriage, not so much because it was crazy or because I could get hurt. If it was just me, I might have considered it. But I couldn't do it because of Alyssa. She and I were a package deal. I couldn’t do this and leave her with my parents. People in town would expect her to be with me and my new husband. A potential husband who still didn’t know she existed, much less that she was his.
“We’ll make sure everyone knows you’re now a Jones and how we’re organizing farmers and community members in protest. We’ll let the press know. It won’t look good for Stark to take the home of newlyweds.” He continued his explanation of how the fake marriage would work.
I reached for the bottle, pouring another shot, knowing it was too much. The more he talked, the more this idea made sense, which was all the more reason to stop drinking. Still, he was correct that I’d be able to outwardly fight for the farmers instead of holding to the mayor’s stance to stay neutral. And it could help in my bid to run for mayor when my time came.
But if it went wrong…if I fell for him again and he didn’t feel the same…if we lost against Stark and he blamed me…if he left again...I didn’t know how I’d survive that.
At the same time, this was a way to put my money where my mouth was. Was I willing to do anything to save Salvation, including marry the man who broke my heart? And maybe it would give me the time and insight into him I needed to let him know about Alyssa. To discover the type of father he’d be.
Before I could drink my next glass, Wyatt took it from me. “You shouldn’t have to get wasted to talk yourself into marrying me.” He stood and reached out his hand to me. “Let me take you home.”
I knew I couldn’t drive, but I didn’t want Wyatt to be the one to drive me home. As it turned out, I still lived with my parents too, but that was in the process of changing now that I’d paid my student loans and saved for a down payment on a house for me and Alyssa. But more than not wanting him to know I still lived at home was that I didn’t want him to get wind of Alyssa. Even as I thought that, I felt like a horrible person.
“I’ll get a ride from Trina,” I said, trying to pull my hand away from his because his touch sent electric sparks through my body.
Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “She’s still drinking! Please, Sinclair. Let me do this.”
It was those green eyes that finally did me in. The way he’d look at me like I was the only woman in the world. Between that and however much I’d had to drink, I couldn’t refuse.
“Okay.” God, I hoped my parents or Alyssa didn’t see him drop me off.
He smiled like I’d given him a gift. As we walked out, he tossed money on the bar.
“Heading out?” my brother asked, looking at Wyatt and then me.
“He’s taking me home,” I said, letting Ryder know I was okay with this.
“Do I hear wedding bells in the near future?” Trina asked.
“No bells,” I replied as I walked by.
Wyatt escorted me to the ancient truck. “It’s older than dirt, but it’s clean and well-kept.”
He helped me in and then went to the driver's side. Once in, he started the truck and we headed out toward my parents’ house.
“Your parents still good?” he asked.
“Yep.” I looked over at his profile. “I’m sorry about your parents-”
“Don’t be.” His voice was clipped, making me flinch. He turned to me. “Sorry. It’s for the best.”
I wanted to ask him about that, but didn’t want to put him in a bad mood. I rolled down the window, and with a nice soft buzz from booze, the warm evening summer breeze blowing in the window, and the scent of Wyatt all around, I was quite content.
I replayed my conversation with Wyatt in my head. He hadn’t been someone who’d take to such crazy tactics to get what he wanted before, but of course, there was more on the line now. His farm. His livelihood. His legacy. He’d been gone ten years without a thought, but apparently, now these things were important enough that he’d marry to save them. He’d even hired a lawyer.
Thinking of Jeannette and how she, a senior, dated Wyatt as a sophomore made jealousy flare deep in my gut.
“Was Jeanette your first?” That was the problem with alcohol. Sometimes it had you speaking out loud what you wanted to keep in your head as a thought.
He looked at me with a smirk. “Do you really want to know?”
“No. Yes.”
He remained quiet. Finally, he said, “I didn’t love her. Not like you.”
My insides went all gooey. Again, I blamed the alcohol because it wasn’t safe to go soft on Wyatt.
“Not that I used her. She and I had some fun times-”
“I bet you did.”
He laughed. “Out of the sack too. But you, Sinclair, you were different.”
I smiled. I was sure I looked like a lovesick loon. Tomorrow when I’m sober, I’ll probably be embarrassed.
“Who was your first?” he asked with a quick glance at me again before watching the road.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Surely, he already did.
“That’s why I asked.”
I didn’t say anything. Jeez, I was a silly girl again playing coy.
“I like to think it
