Page 54 of Wild Rivals

I blush, dipping my chin to hide my face behind the dark curtain of my hair before I grin at her. “Good. Maybe I’ll find someone to do just that.”

“That’s the attitude,” Chloe cheers, taking my empty glass and smacking me on the ass as I turn to leave.

Here goes nothing.

I push my shoulders back, hoping that my walk is sensual and not like a deer on ice as I cross the room. As much as I don’t want to do this, I have to, if only to prove to myself that this feeling I’ve been fighting since I saw Wyatt with Maya isn’t jealousy.

I’m within touching distance of the guy I vaguely recognize from the rodeo circuit when a hand takes hold of mine and pulls me away. Even without looking at him, I know the heat of Wyatt’s touch like the pastures at Hartlands. I stumble before finding my footing as he drags me through the room and into the space at the back of the gallery. What is he doing? My gaze bounces around the room, grateful that we’re not drawing any attention.

A flutter starts in my stomach before I can shut it down. Now isn’t the time, and if he thinks he can waltz on over here and cockblock me, he’s got another thing coming. He doesn’t own me and he sure as shit can’t stop me from doing what he was. Hypocrite.

We come to a stop in a room full of boxes, with a desk at the back of it. A silent battle of wills takes place between us as we stare at each other. I refuse to be the first one to speak, especially because he’s the one who dragged me in here.

Maintaining my silence, I allow my gaze to bounce around his face, hating that I’m becoming all too familiar with it.

Wyatt’s the first to break, demanding, “What were you about to do, Mad?”

That damn nickname.

I press my lips together, crossing my arms over my chest and reveling in the fact that his eyes drop to the cleavage I have on display. Good. Keep looking, because you’re not touching me, ever again.

“What does it matter to you?” I sneer.

He narrows his eyes at me. “Answer the damn question.”

“I was going to talk to…” I rack my brain for the rider’s name, but come up empty. It doesn’t fucking matter. “You were doing exactly the same thing,” I seethe.

“And what was I doing?” He mimics my pose, and suddenly I don’t feel so sure.

Was this a test? No. He’d have to care what I think for that.

“You know what you were doing.” My voice sounds weak and filled with uncertainty. God, I was so sure I had read him right out there.

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I do.” Crowding me in, he murmurs, “Spell it out for me, darlin’.”

I swallow thickly, my gaze jumping around the room behind him as I search for a way out. “You were doing what you do, Wyatt,” I reply half-heartedly.

He cocks a brow, gripping my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look at him. “Talking to people?”

“Flirting with hot women. Don’t play dumb, Wyatt,” I snap, jerking my chin out of his hold.

The corner of his mouth kicks up before he grins at me, his teeth on full display. I hate that he looks so handsome. A flicker of regret zaps through me. I wish I’d been on the receiving end of his smile more in the years that I’ve known him.

“Wow.” He takes a step forward. “Maddie Hart, are you jealous?”

Affronted, I pout and scowl at him, huffing out, “Over you? Not a chance.”

When he runs a finger down my cheek and over my bottom lip, I melt.

I hate that his touch can calm me.

He gets even closer, and the scent of his aftershave fills my nostrils as I inhale. It’s woodsy and masculine with a hint of cinnamon.

His voice is a low rumble when he murmurs, “I think you are, and I like it.” Wyatt dips, dusting his lips over mine and making my knees buckle beneath me.

I reach out and hold on to the fabric of his shirt, like I might slip and drown if I don’t anchor myself to him. What is he doing to me?

He pulls away a fraction, everything about him cocooning me in the most consuming way possible. “Go on a date with me, Mad,” he whispers, as if part of him is afraid to ask.