Even though I don’t say more, I think Wyatt knows those words were just empty. Just something people say. His gaze drifts to his hat and then back again. “Can I lie next to you?”
I move back, practically plastering myself to the wall, but who am I to deny Wyatt? Not after the night he’s had. He moves into place, staying on top of the covers.
“I was talking to Lucas about his magic fingers when he told me you were the one in the backseat with me. That was kind of awkward.”
I grin at him, thinking it funny he thought I was Lucas, but in the same token, I could see Lucas taking care of him too, running his hands through his hair just like I had.
“It helped ease some of the thoughts in my head,” he says, and for the first time, his vulnerability shines like a spotlight.
I bite my lower lip. “I can do it again, if you want.”
Wyatt shuffles closer, still sporting his innocent face. I move up, placing my pillow up under my rib cage, so I can lie in an elevated position. Wyatt closes his eyes, and I hesitate at first. This seems far too intimate now. Not like before when I knew he needed it but also that he probably wasn’t ever going to remember. He’ll remember it this time. He wants it.
With a breath held in my chest, I work my fingers through his thick, dark hair. He lets out a breath that I swear is more like a sigh or a kitten’s purr. I skim my fingers all the way to the back of his head and then start again. After several minutes, Wyatt turns to his side, facing away from me. I lie my head against my arm, shifting into a more comfortable position while still running my hands through his hair.
On my second pass through, though, my fingers run over a bump. They still for a moment, but keep going, running over that same spot until I realize it’s more like a raised ridge that’s about four to five inches long along the crown of his head. I frown as my fingers run over it time and time again.
What happened to you Wyatt Longhorn?
This will be one of the few times I don’t make up some fantastical story in my head because I’m pretty sure the real story is beyond anything I can imagine.
31
My hand shifts on its own, making me stir from sleep. The bed depresses, and I blink awake to find Wyatt’s back to me. There are freckles sprinkled over his cut form, and I resist the urge to reach out and touch his taut skin.
He stands, pulling his pants up. I almost got a glimpse of the curve of his ass. Instead, his tapered waist is all the view I’m getting. I shift down the bed, and he stills. There’s a pinch in my neck from how I fell asleep. Making him comfortable had been my number one priority, but I hadn’t expected him to stay in my room all night.
He looks toward his hat, then grabs it up, holding it south of his belly button as he turns toward me. He shrugs with a playful grin on his face before glancing down. “I woke up next to a beautiful woman.”
My face colors as I realize what he’s saying. It’s like when I woke Lucas up. He was already hard and waiting for me. This isn’t the same scenario though. My core still heats with his words, but the last thing I need to do is to fall into bed with Wyatt, especially not with all the unsaid words between us.
“I think I had the best sleep I’ve had in a while,” he says, a yawn splitting his lips apart. He looks away, holding his free hand to his mouth and shakes his head like he’s coming out of a coma.
“It must have been the alcohol,” I tease.
“I think it had to do with something way different than that.” A hint of color hits his cheeks. “I’m gonna go now, Dakota. Thank you,” he says, rushing the words out like he’s almost embarrassed to say them. He leaves, the door clicking into place behind him. I spread out on the bed. It isn’t a tiny bed at all. Way bigger than the sofa I’d been sleeping on my whole life, but when you share it with a big cowboy, it feels smaller.
I check the time on the small alarm clock in the room. My eyes bug out of my head when I see it’s well past the time we all should’ve been at class. I drag myself from bed, take a quick shower, but not too quick as to forego my new hair routine. That would be blasphemous. Once I get it styled, I put on a new outfit and slip from the room.
The smell of bacon wafts through the air. I’m confused until I move into the kitchen to see Stone and Lucas shoulder to shoulder, trying to cook. They’re whisper arguing about something, and when I step a certain way, the floor creaks. They turn quickly and then both sag in relief. “We thought you were Wyatt.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“No,” Lucas says quickly. “We were just trying to make him breakfast.”
Stone scrolls through his cell phone. “Why does the recipe say between ten and fifteen minutes? Why can’t they just say it takes this long, flip once at the halfway mark, and then boom, you got yourself some good bacon?”
I chuckle to myself, and Stone gazes at me, arching a brow. “Do you think you can do better?”
“We only had bacon on
