My hand flies to my face, ensuring I don’t see anything. “Put clothes on!”

“You can look,” he offers.

I shake my head. He’s so close. All I smell is his clean and musky scent around me. The steam from the shower billows around us, and my hormones kick to double time. “I’ve already seen you naked. It’s nothing to write home about.”

He shifts forward and nestles himself between my legs. “I think you’re lying, Big City. I think right now you want to look.”

My eyes flash open and I glare at him. “I’m looking.” My voice is laced with venom. “I see nothing I want to play with.” I push him back a little and hop off the sink. It’s too hot in here.

“No?” Wyatt steps forward, grips my wrist, and places my fingers against his chest. The heat from the shower and the feel of his skin under my palm sends a current through me. Oh God. I can’t breathe. His heart beats beneath my hand as his lips graze my cheek. “Are you cold?” he asks knowing damn well I couldn’t be. I curse the goose bumps that are giving me away right now.

“No.” The word escapes as a plea. I’ve been doing good. I’ve managed to keep my hands off him at night, my lips to myself, and my rules intact.

“Just checking.” He shrugs, looking completely unaffected.

Meanwhile, I’m a bundle of pent-up sexual tension.

“Asshole.”

“Your rules, honey.”

I huff and cross my arms. “Whatever.”

“Listen, Mama’s been quite busy today. She called and said we’re needed at dinner tonight.”

“Okay,” I say with apprehension.

“She said we better be there.” Wyatt kisses the side of my head as he passes.

I don’t know why she needs us there, but maybe she has more pie. “Will your dad be there?”

“No.” He cracks his neck. “He’s up in Nashville. You’ll meet him soon.”

“When are we going?”

“As soon as you get yourself ready. You know I should probably meet your parents, Ang. We’re kinda bound together.”

I let out a deep sigh and head into the bedroom. “I’m putting that off as long as possible.”

While he knows about my parents, I didn’t get too deep. I’m the youngest and by far the most challenging. I tested her at every turn, until she got sick at least. Then I became her caretaker for the most part. My father worked a lot, my brothers were away at college or too busy when they were home, but I was always there. I sat with her at the hospital while she got her chemo. I held her shoulders as she would get sick, and I shaved my head when she lost her hair.

You would think that would forge an unbreakable bond, but it didn’t. As soon as she went into remission, she practically erased all the time we spent together from her mind. It was as if every moment we shared vanished with the cancer. Since then, I’ve been on my own. I don’t want her to ruin this for me.

I know exactly how she’ll feel about my being pregnant. And Wyatt. My mother expects a certain type of man. She would not be able to find that value in one who works his ass off on a farm. When Todd brought Presley around, there were some ugly things said about where she grew up. Things that I know my brother did not take kindly to. While Todd and Josh can hold their tongue—I can’t. If she were to say one hateful thing about Wyatt, I’d lose my shit. No need to bring her into this now. I need to figure out too many other things first.

I exit the room with a sense of unease. “I’m ready.”

Wyatt smiles and puts his arm out. “You look beautiful.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” I hook my hand around his forearm.

“Told you that I’m a catch.”

I roll my eyes and smack his shoulder. “You’re also a tool.”

We walk the trail that leads to his parents’ house. It’s not far, and I could use the exercise. The short trip is spent with me telling him all the stuff his mother said. He tells me about the crazy day on the ranch and how he couldn’t wait to get home. His smile is open and full of warmth. We laugh about Cayden and Logan’s antics today and how Trent and Wyatt are teaching them things to do to Zach. Their newest lesson is the art of toilet papering.

Boys.

We approach the house, and Mrs. Hennington is already standing on the huge wrap around porch. “Hi, Mrs. Hennington.” I smile.

“Oh, now. You can call me Macie, dear.”

“Macie,” Wyatt says from behind me. “I’m starvin’.”

“Wyatt Earnest Hennington,” she chides. “You will call me Mama, or I’ll slap you into next Tuesday. Now, gimme some lovin’.” She pats her cheek.

Wyatt wraps his arms around her and kisses her. “Sorry, Mama.”

“Don’t you let him get away with a thing,” she tells me.

I giggle. “I won’t.”

“I’m serious,” she says. “You let these boys get an inch on you, they’ll take ten miles. And if that baby inside is a boy, Lord help you, darlin’.”

My face pales a little. Macie turns toward the door as I stand a little stunned. I didn’t even put any thought into the sex of the baby. I mean, I figured it was a girl because . . . I am one. But a boy? I don’t know what to do with a boy by myself. A girl I can teach things to, but boys like dirt and bugs. I’m so not meant to be a mother to boys.

Especially if he’s like Wyatt. These boys are boys. They hunt, fish, ride horses, and for all I know, they ride bulls too. I’m so screwed.

“She’s kidding,” Wyatt says against my ear. “My brothers and I were angels.”

She laughs and shifts so she’s facing us. “More like hellions.”

“She also has some kind of super hearing.” Wyatt throws his arm over my shoulder and turns to her with a smile. “Don’t you?”

Macie smirks back. “When you have kids, you learn what to listen for. And if it’s ever quiet . . . you know they’re up to no good.”

She’s amazing. I want to be her. It’s obvious that she loves her kids and they love her. Wyatt, Trent, and Zach have all stayed close to her. There’s a good reason for that. There’s also a reason my brothers and I got the hell away from our mother.

Wyatt and I enter the house, and I’m in awe. This house is straight out of a Southern Living magazine. The tapestries on the walls are soft creams with beautiful patterns. The floors are a deep mahogany hardwood. The entryway alone is magnificent and has a staircase on either side that meet in the middle. The foyer is filled with photos of their family. There’s a formal living room off to the right that looks untouched and a huge dining room on the left. We move farther and pass a powder room and a study.

We enter into the kitchen, which takes up the entire back of the house, and the smells are overwhelming. It’s filled with scents that make me feel at home—a pie baking in the oven with a mix of warm foods. I instantly relax. “Well, if it isn’t Wyatt and Angie.” An older woman stands from her seat at the table.

“Mrs. Rooney,” Wyatt says before turning his gaze toward his mother. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Of course, sugar.” She pats the side of his face. “I wanted to make sure Angie knew how happy we all are.” She looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place where I’ve met her before.