Page 14 of Wild Rivals

I dip my chin before heading to collect my hat and replying, “Yes, sir.”

Jim leaves, and as I pass Maddie, I can’t help but say, “Good luck, darlin’.”

With a wink that she rolls her eyes at, I follow in Jim’s wake, ready to do everything in my power to keep this piece of land out of the Harts’ hands.

10

MADDIE

I should have known the second I saw Wyatt in that small waiting room that today was not going to be my day. After my pitch, I came back to a whole heap of work that all needed my immediate attention. It’s safe to say that I’m tired, hungry, and need a good night’s rest. Not that I’ll have one if the past few have been anything to go by, especially since my latest interaction with Wyatt.

All afternoon, my concentration has been shot to hell. Every time I’ve picked up an invoice or opened an email, my mind has been filled with the distraction that is Wyatt Wilde and whatever nearly happened between us in that meeting room. Thank God Jim came in when he did or who knows what would have happened.

Would it have been so bad to find out what Wyatt’s kiss tastes like?

Yes. Dammit. It would have been the worst thing to happen to me in a long time. Wyatt would use that against me at every chance because that’s just how he is.

The smell of grilled chicken wafts through the air as I walk into Daddy’s house. If I can just get through dinner without Wyatt making an appearance, I’ll be eternally grateful.

Daddy is making dinner, like he does whenever he invites me over to eat. Since stepping back, he’s had more time on his hands. He’s not fully retired, but he’s finding things to fill all the spare time he now has.

“Hey, Daddy,” I call as I walk into the kitchen. A big bowl of salad sits on the table set for two. “It’s just us?” I ask, placing my bag down on one of the chairs at the breakfast bar before rounding it and stepping into his side for a hug.

“It is. Your brothers had other plans. Or so they said,” he replies, dropping a kiss on the top of my head.

I’m sure they did. They rarely come around anymore. I see them at work more than I see them at family dinners. More often than not, it’s just me and Daddy.

It would never cross Daddy’s mind that his sons needed the softer side of him, the one he reserved for me and my mom. I’m afraid that he’s too set in his ways to ever change, so I step in, encouraging my brothers to be more present.

My stomach rumbles, reminding me of just how hungry I am. Aside from the pastry I grabbed from the kitchen this morning, I’ve not eaten. I need to get better at making sure I do, because I’ve started to notice my clothes are getting a little looser.

Swiping up the bowl of buttered potatoes, I carry them to the table as Daddy follows me with the plate of chicken.

“If you ask me, I think you lucked out with my company tonight.” I grin as I set the bowl down on the wooden table.

“That I did, Peanut. Now go wash up so we can eat and you can fill me in on how it went today.”

I do as he tells me, uncertainty swirling in my gut as I wash my hands. Right now, I’m not sure if I can remember much of anything but what nearly happened in the waiting room with Wyatt, and I don’t think Daddy wants to hear about that. The pitch itself was a blur. I’m not entirely convinced that I came across as cool, calm, and collected.

When my hands are clean, I return to the table, sliding into my seat as I look over the food. “This looks delicious.”

I’m filling our glasses from the jug filled with ice water when Daddy coughs. He picks up his napkin, spluttering into it as I hand him his drink and set the jug back in the middle of the table.

I study him as he chugs the water, taking in the lines on his face and his sun-worn skin. Every day I feel like I’m reminded of the fact that he’s getting older and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. It’s the reason I don’t mind carving out time in my day to spend with him, even if it means that when I get home, I still have to go through my emails or make notes of things to pick up with Mona in the morning.

When there’s nothing left in the glass, he pulls it away from his mouth, exhaling a harsh breath before sucking in a lungful of air. He doesn’t look at me; instead, he goes back to serving his dinner, picking up the bowl of salad as if nothing happened.

I rest my elbows on the table, narrowing my eyes at him as I ask, “Are you okay?”

“Elbows off the table,” he huffs. “I’m fine,” he adds, loading up his plate with salad before handing me the bowl.

I take it, holding it as I stare at him, a hint of frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Daddy, please don’t lie to me. I can see that something’s wrong, and if you haven’t been to the doctor about it, you should. Whatever it is, you’ve been fighting it for at least a week, because every time I see you, you nearly cough up a lung.”

The worry sits heavy on my chest, tangling with everything else I’ve been trying to ignore today. Wyatt. The pitch. That almost-kiss I can’t seem to shake.

Daddy sets down the plate of chicken before taking the salad bowl from me and spooning the leaves onto my plate. “If it makes you happy, I’ll go to the doctor tomorrow. Now stop fussing over me and eat, because you’re getting too thin and I’m the one who’s supposed to be worrying about you.”

“Thank you,” I reply, stabbing at a piece of chicken, even though I’m not sure I can eat anything until I know he’s really going to be okay.