The Outlaw by Jennifer Millikin
Jo
18 months ago
Now I understand it firsthand.
Coyote ugly.
Except Wyatt's about as far from ugly as it's possible to be. He's lying beside me in the hotel bed, that dark hair of his messy and sexy, one section dipping down over his forehead. The fancy, down-filled duvet comes up to the middle of his torso. He is hard muscle, rippled abs, generous and well-defined shoulders. His nose has a slight bump in the center, like it's been broken. Day-old scruff darkens his face.
My skin prickles at the thought of that scruff scraping along my body last night.
Which is why this is a coyote ugly situation. It won't be Wyatt's looks that'll make me gnaw off my own arm to slip out of his room undetected.
I'm afraid of what I'll see in his eyes when he wakes up and remembers what happened between us last night.
If I can just get out of his hotel room without waking him, I won't be here for his initial response. I can remain blissfully unaware of whether he thinks it was a happy accident that we ended up in bed together, or a colossal regret.
I've liked Wyatt Hayden for so long, I can't bear to watch.
Inch by brutal inch, I lift one section of my body off the bed. I'm sore from last night's sexual antics, so holding my various body parts aloft while I attempt this silent rising from the bed is painful. On tiptoe I gather my clothes, search for my bra and finally locate it on the lampshade of all places, and pull everything on, waiting to zip my jeans until I step into the hall.
I suck in a huge breath and sag against the wall. I made it.
I send a thank you to the man upstairs when I don't run into any of my friends in the halls, and slip into my own room as quietly as I left Wyatt's. I could use a few more hours of sleep, especially considering the two-hour drive we have back home to Sierra Grande, but I'm due down at breakfast in forty-five minutes. Last night, before all the cocktails took root in our bloodstream, we made reservations for the hotel's Sunday brunch. If it weren't fancy, and I hadn't put down a deposit just to reserve a table for a group as large as ours, I'd cancel. In total there are eleven of us. A few couples, the rest of us singles, and all of us have known each other since high school.
After a long hot shower, I dress and towel dry my hair, pausing to study myself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom. I don't look any different after last night, but everything inside me feels tilted. The world I knew yesterday is not the world I know today. I've waited years for Wyatt to notice me, no exaggeration.
Mercifully I didn't have to sit around watching him notice other women. As far as I can tell Wyatt doesn't date. At least not seriously. Maybe after last night that will change.
I'm the first to breakfast. Everyone trickles in, grimacing and making jokes about needing a little hair of the dog. I feel like shit too, but I'm holding on to a secret so delicious it overrides my hangover.
Wyatt is the last to join. His eyes are bloodshot, he's yawning, and wearing last night's shirt. He takes the only available seat, about four down on my right.
I'm willing him to look at me, meet my eyes, share a furtive glance, anything to silently acknowledge what went on between us.
He doesn't look up from his menu. And when he does, it's only to order from the server. She bends over like she's trying to hear him better, giving him an opportunity to look at her ample cleavage. To his credit, he doesn't take the bait.
Nor does he take any of my bait. Not that I'm any good at setting it. I can't flirt, or manufacture opportunities, to save my life. Which is what makes last night's encounter a miracle.
Kyle leans back in his seat and wraps an arm around Corrine's shoulders. Gaze directed across the table at Wyatt, he asks, "What did you get up to last night? You left the pool and that was the last we saw of you."
He went to the little sundry store that was two minutes from closing for the night. Bought a bottle of Gatorade. Ran into me. Pulled me behind an ivy-covered wall and kissed me senseless. Told me he could already tell I was going to be the best thing he ever tasted, and I melted like the ice in my tea on an August afternoon.
Wyatt shrugs. His full bottom lip juts out slightly, the tiny line that runs down its center becoming more pronounced. "Not much. Went to my room. Passed out."
Kyle shakes his head. "You were hitting the liquor pretty hard last night."
Wyatt grimaces. "Little too hard. I'm lucky I made it to the right room. I don't remember much past leaving the pool."
Conversation moves on around the table. Laughter, discussing the funny things that must've happened after Wyatt and I left. Nobody seems to piece together that Wyatt and I were missing at the same time. Not that anybody would find it suspicious. I'm known to be the first of us to leave, and Wyatt is known to do whatever suits him at any given moment. He is an enigma, as equally perplexing as he is interesting. I've spent years in Wyatt's orbit, but never really crossing. Until last night, when we finally collided.
Breakfast continues, and Wyatt looks my way only once. He does what he always does when he sees me. A lift of his chin, eyebrows raised. Fleeting recognition of my presence. No warmth in his eyes, no barely perceptible smirk, literally nothing that implies he knows what I look like without clothes on.
He doesn't remember last night.
My heart sinks. Anger bursts into my chest, coming from some combustible part of me. I'm mad at him, and I'm even more upset with myself. I knew he was hammered. I didn't sugarcoat the situation, thinking our hookup would instantly make him fall in love with me. I knew there was a high probability this wouldn't be all roses. But when you love chocolate cake, and someone serves you the most decadent, moist slice you've ever seen, how do you pass that up?
You don't.
Good thing learning my lesson the first time is my specialty. Wyatt will never get under my skin again.
My longtime infatuation with the annoyingly handsome, infuriatingly mysterious, emotionally unavailable cowboy is officially over.