I probably will. He really doesn’t like the name, which makes me want to use it more. “Maybe you should take me back to the cottage,” I offer. The playfulness disappears as lust fills his eyes. I get up, allowing my breasts to graze his torso as I stand. “That is,” I say as I look up from beneath my lashes, “if you want me to apologize.”

Wyatt’s lips are on mine so fast I don’t have time to blink. His arms are around my back with his hands in my hair. I love when he does this. It’s possessive and protective at the same time. Our mouths move together as the kiss grows heated. I know exactly where we’re going. I can’t seem to get enough of him.

I pull back, “I’m ready.”

He grins and yanks me against him. “Now, where would the punishment be if I gave in?”

Jerk.

I want sex. That kiss sent tingles where I wanted them. But I’m sensing he knew that.

His look says I’m right. “Turd.”

He laughs, kisses me again, and releases me. Wyatt tugs me to his side, and we start to walk. “I have a better idea.”

“Oh?”

We keep walking, casually he’ll lean in and kiss the top of my head. My arms stay wrapped around his middle, loving how easy this feels, until he leads me into the stables. The horses are in their stalls, looking all pretty and strong. I walk over to the one that is looking over the half gate.

“Hi,” I coo to the horse. “You’re a big guy, huh?”

Wyatt snorts. “Sure, the horse is big, but you call me little?”

I shake my head. “He’s just jealous.” I pet the horse’s nose. He’s really a magnificent horse. He’s tall, with a shiny black coat and white speckles on his butt. I glance over at the side of the stall where his name is written. “Aww, you’re sweet, Desperado. And you’re a handsome boy.”

“He’s an Appaloosa,” Wyatt says, coming next to me. His hand rubs Desperado’s neck, and then he pats it. “That’s why he has the spots.”

“Do you have Appaloosas at the farm?”

I don’t know a damn thing about horses. I probably should learn if I’m going to be a part of his life.

“No, we breed mostly Quarter horses or Arabians. My mother had an Arabian when she was growing up, so my father indulges her. But Quarter horses are what most people want around us. They’re good for working, riding, rodeos, and just about anything else.”

“Oh,” I say as if any of that makes a difference. Desperado moves slightly and then rests his head on Wyatt’s shoulder, and Wyatt obliges him with a neck rub.

“You wanna go for a ride?”

“Can I? I mean, I’m pregnant.”

I don’t know the rules on that. I was only really concerned with the coffee thing. The doctor didn’t give me a list of restrictions other than the things that were obvious. Since I don’t smoke, and already knew wine and I were going on a break, I didn’t focus on the other stuff. I remembered no sushi from Presley’s pregnancy, and there’s no sushi place around here anyway.

“You’re safe with me, Ang. We’ll walk slow. I’ll have the reins.”

“Right,” I say. “But am I supposed to?”

He steps away from the horse and takes my hand. “I’ve known plenty of pregnant women who ride early on. Plus, before they had cars, pregnant women had to ride. My guess is you’re fine.”

“Let me Google.”

Wyatt laughs. “Google away.”

I grab my phone, searching for the answer. It says as long as I’m past my first trimester, not too big to sit in the saddle, and we take it slow then it’s okay to ride. Wyatt is more than experienced with horses, so I’m sure it’ll be fine.

“Let’s saddle up, Little Buckaroo! I’m ready to ride.”

Wyatt grumbles under his breath, and I put my hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing. He’s so cute when I piss him off.

I stand back and watch him work. He tacks up the horse (which he told me is the proper term, not “dressing” him.) I’m on Desperado and Wyatt is on a horse named Ginger Snap. I love that he’s riding the horse with the girly sounding name.

“Am I doing this right?” I ask for the tenth time as we start to head back to the stables.

“Yes, baby. You’re doing great.”

We’re literally riding at the slowest pace ever, but I’m trying not to look like a terrified kid on a pony ride. Wyatt leans back in the seat, his hand out in front of him like a Marlboro commercial, and I’m clinging to the horn (again he corrected me after calling it the “Oh Shit! handle”).

Once we settle in a little and I’ve loosened my grip, I turn to him and ask something that has been bothering me for a while now. “Wyatt, why didn’t you go back to working at your family’s farm after Felicia left?”

He looks over with a sad smile. “I was bought out. When Zach came back, we all had to make a choice. Right there. Right then. My father was sick, and Mama couldn’t run it on her own since she had her hands full. Zach returned, and I figured he’d leave once he rehabbed his shoulder, but after a few months, it was clear he wasn’t going back. All three of us were fighting constantly. He brought on Felicia to help, he sold off a few horses that I had wanted to buy for myself, and Trent was being a fucking idiot. It was just bad.”

I watch him as the emotions play across his face. I can see how there’s something underneath his words—a pain that still festers there.

“Anyway,” he continues, “Trent was the first to decide he wanted out when he took the Sheriff position. Zach and I bought his share of the company, and we were evenly split with forty-nine percent of the company since Mama kept two percent. The agreement was she’d hold those shares so that we couldn’t bully the other one out.”

“Makes sense. I’m guessing there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere.”

He nods. “I wanted the control and so did Zach. When he made Felicia his right hand, I lost it.” Wyatt turns his gaze to me and sighs. “You see, I’ve fought with my brothers my whole life, but this was like nothing anyone had ever seen. He said a lot of shit. Things that, no matter how much time has passed, still linger between us.”

“I’m sorry. I know how much it hurts when you fight with a sibling.”

And I know more than anyone. Joshua is the king of horrible things. Even as a kid, he would find my weaknesses and use them against me. It was his way of demonstrating his superiority.

“Zach and I are fine now. We don’t talk about it. But I told my parents I wanted out. I sold all of my shares to Zach, and he took over. I left that day and went to Cooper, who gave me a job.”

Wow. “And you’re okay with it now?”

He looks off at the horizon. “Not at all. But I’ll never ask to buy back my half. It wasn’t Felicia as much as it was what my brother wanted to do to my parents’ company. It was how he approaches business. I believe that money doesn’t override loyalty. I feel like my father’s reputation was about how fair and generous he was. Zach wanted to take the company in a direction I was not okay with.”

I decide that right now is absolutely not the time to say what I’m thinking. I started my business in a dog-eat-dog economy. You’re either the alpha or you get lost in the pack. Presley would be like Wyatt, she’d give free cupcakes to people who came in all the time, which only encouraged them to come back for more free stuff. It was horrible, and I had to stop it. I’m career minded, so I can see that Zach was only making smart business choices.