Detour (The Getaway Series Book 5) Page 8

  “Why don’t I sleep with her?” Rodie sounded furious, his voice nothing more than a low rumble. “Did you really just ask me that, Wyatt?”

  I lifted a hand and wrapped my fingers around his wrist. I felt my eyes go wide when I realized his pulse was hammering just as furiously as mine.

  Glaring, green eyes sliced into me as his head moved closer to mine. My lips parted without permission and I watched in frozen fascination as Rodie’s nostrils flared in response.

  “You know why I won’t sleep with her. You know exactly why I can’t sleep with her, even if it means losing my position as sheriff. Stop playing dumb. It doesn’t suit you at all.” The warning was clear, and so was his intent.

  I blinked and squeezed his wrist, not sure if I wanted to pull him off me, or tug him closer. “I won’t ever make assumptions about something like that. I won’t think anything without empirical proof.” Partly because I was an investigator by trade, but more because I’d learned to be careful from experience. When I was younger, I’d been burned more than once by thinking someone was interested in me just because I really wanted them to be. Some boys liked to play games, and I was not about to be a pawn. Not after my mother played me over and over again.

  “Empirical proof?” Rodie barked the words, eyes narrowing on mine. “Fine. Here is your empirical proof, Special Agent.”

  I knew he was going to kiss me.

  I sensed it all the way down to my bones.

  I could have evaded, or pushed him away, but I didn’t.

  I wasn’t sure I liked this man, and was pretty sure I didn’t entirely trust him. However, when his lips landed on mine, there was no denying I liked the way he kissed and I wanted more of it. More of him, because it suddenly seemed like an option for me to have him.

  Rodie

  I tasted hunger and surrender on Wyatt’s lips as I leaned into him, forgetting where I was and who I was the instant my mouth touched his.

  I didn’t expect him to practically melt under my hands. I was anticipating more of a fight and a truckload of reluctance. What I got was warm, wet, pliable lips pressed hungrily against mine, shaking fingers holding onto whatever part of me he could reach, and a shy flick of his tongue when I leaned closer and pulled him farther over the middle console of the SUV.

  One of us gasped, but I wasn’t sure who because I couldn’t think, or feel, or see anything beyond the places where we touched. I’d been alone for such a long time and purposely distanced myself from others. There was something about Wyatt Bryant that pulled at me from the very beginning. Instead of pushing him away, I found myself wanting to get as close to him as possible. I lived my entire life being someone else for others. This kiss, this brief, stolen, heated moment on the side of a dusty road outside of Sheridan, Wyoming was the only time I’d taken something simply for myself. I kissed Wyatt because I had to kiss him. I felt like I would die if I didn’t get a chance to taste him, to feel him pressed up against me, at least once. The need to shake his unwavering control and rigid restraint had been hounding me and keeping me awake at night since we’d met.

  I placed one of my hands on the side of his neck, using my thumb to tilt back his sharp chin so I could go at his delectable mouth from another angle. I felt his pulse pound under the weight of my palm, and his fingers tightened almost painfully around my wrist. I was waiting for a protest or for him to jerk away. I was properly stunned when Wyatt deepened the kiss, the tip of his tongue skating expectantly along the seam of my lips. I opened up obediently and tasted coffee and something minty as his skilled tongue twirled against mine.

  The fingers of his free hand suddenly threaded through the longer strands of hair at the nape of my neck. It wasn’t a gentle caress or a tender stroke. He tugged on a handful of hair, returning my forceful handling. He was as actively involved in the moment as I was. He was kissing me back voraciously, taking as much as he was giving, forgetting for a stolen moment the pain and sadness that had brought him here. Never in any of my lurid fantasies, did Wyatt come across as a passionate, hungry lover. I always imagined him being cool and composed, even in the bedroom.

  I was wrong.

  He was hot… everywhere.

  His hands, where they held me, felt like they were made of flames.

  His mouth, doing its best to devour mine, was warm and insistent.

  His uneven, jagged breaths were steamy and sweet.

  There wasn’t anything cool about him, and all that heat was scrambling my normal sense of self-preservation. Whom I was attracted to and with whom I went to bed was something I kept firmly off the table for discussion. Yet, here I was out in the open, in my marked sheriff’s vehicle, losing myself to the most physically and emotionally intense make out session I’d ever experienced.

  Kissing Wyatt was like having my first kiss with a boy all over again. There was something new and fresh about it. Something eye-opening and life-changing. It was the kind of kiss that showed what had been missing from my life. The kind of kiss that could change me.

  Wyatt’s fingers continued to tug at my hair, and his teeth dragged along the soft inside of my lower lip. The interior of the vehicle was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and intermittent gulps and gasps of pleasure. We were lost in our own little world where our secrets and differences didn’t matter. It was a place I could’ve happily stayed forever.

  One of Wyatt’s hands dropped to my thigh. The muscle automatically tightened, and every part of my body was vibrating in anticipation. The twisted position in my seat was already uncomfortable, but the way his touch made my body harden and throb behind my zipper pushed things closer to unbearable.

  I slid my palm down the length of his neck, letting my fingers dip into the collar of his plain black t-shirt. The tender exploration stilled when the tips of my fingers skated over the rough, lifted skin of one of his many surgical scars. It was a stark reminder of how close he’d come to no longer being here. A reminder of what I might’ve missed out on if I kept dancing around the fact that I wanted him, even though we saw things very differently. I desperately wanted to believe our similarities would do more to bring us together than our differences would do to pull us apart.

  I dragged my hand down his strong chest until I had his rapid, strong heartbeat under the palm of my hand. I loved the way his lips felt underneath mine. I was quickly getting addicted to the soft, sexy sounds he made each time the slant and direction of the kiss changed. I liked the subtle strength coming from his battered body. And I liked the rhythmic, steady beat of his heart the most because it meant he survived. That we’d both survived. Because, despite the odds and my own reservations, I was here to feel his quickened pulse. He was still here with me; we had time to figure this thing out between us. No matter how difficult and challenging it might be.

  Wyatt’s hand started to slide slowly up my thigh. My body reacted quickly, almost embarrassingly so. I wanted nothing more than to feel his fingertips touch the hard, taut flesh pressing insistently against the zipper of my jeans.

  Only, it wasn’t the right time, and definitely not the right place. The radio in my car squawked to life as the dispatcher called for a deputy to check on a possible robbery at one of the family-owned pharmacies in town. The sound made us jump away from one another as reality crashed down around us.

  I absolutely shouldn’t be kissing anyone while I was on duty. And I definitely shouldn’t be kissing another man out in the open where anyone could pass by and see. Especially not with the mayor breathing down my neck and the election right around the corner.

  Wyatt pulled his hands away like he’d been caught touching a priceless piece of art at a museum. He shoved one of his hands through his golden hair and blinked his pretty blue eyes at me before barking, “What in the holy hell was that?”

  I dragged my hands down my face and reached out to start the SUV back up. I also radioed that I heard the call about the robbery but was on my way out of town and wouldn’t be back for an hour. The dispatcher copie
d as I pulled the vehicle back onto the road and headed toward the Warner ranch.

  Wyatt made a strangled sound and lifted his fingers to his kiss-swollen lips. “Seriously, Rodie, what was that? You being attracted to men is one thing, you being attracted to me is an entirely different thing. No fucking way are you going to convince me that, even if you are gay, I’m your type.” He snorted and shook his head. “Plus, I don’t play around with people who hang out in the closet. It’s way too dark and crowded in there, and I worked way too hard to fight my way out despite my mother, the military, and the DEA.”

  I could hear the judgment and censure in his tone. It set my teeth on edge and chased away some of the soft, warm feelings still swirling around in my blood from that kiss.

  “I’m not in or out of any closet. I keep my private life exactly that, private. It’s no one’s business whom I go to bed with.” That was how I’d always lived my life and I didn’t think I’d be changing that mentality anytime soon.

  When I was younger, no one cared enough to ask what I was up to. My mother barely acknowledged my existence, and it was easier for everyone involved if I made as little fuss as possible while under my aunt and uncle’s roof. I was a shadow, being as unobtrusive and as quiet as possible. When I got older, the need for self-preservation kicked in. Unlike Cam, I did my best to blend in. Even when I knew for certain the cute cowgirls and female cheerleaders weren’t ever going to do anything for me, I kept the knowledge to myself. Then, much like Wyatt had mentioned, I knew my career path in the military would go much more smoothly if I kept my personal preferences to myself. Advancements in inclusivity had been made over the years, but the military was never going to be as progressive as it claimed to be, so who I spent time with and who I shared my body with were things I kept on lockdown. I never felt like I lived a life in the closet, but I could freely admit I was less than honest when it came to where my heart wandered.

  Wyatt scoffed and I watched as he rubbed his palms up and down his thighs. He was upset, but it was nice to know he’d been as affected by the kiss as I was.

  “You’re right. It isn’t anyone’s business, but we’ve known each other for a while now, and you’ve been aware of who I am from the first moment we met. You keep mentioning how much we have in common, so you could have mentioned exactly how similar we are. You could’ve mentioned you were interested in me at some point along the way.” The words sounded sullen, and sure enough, he had an adorable pout on his face. With his full lips and sharp jawline, it was no surprise that he was even pretty when he pouted.

  “I didn’t come right out and tell you I was interested, but I’ve been showing you. You just weren’t paying attention, Wyatt.” It was true. I’d been dropping hints that I would very much like to get naked with him since Cy and Leo’s wedding. But life kept interfering and pulling him away. I never got a chance to make a play, and now here he was, hurt and healing. The timing was never in my favor… until now.

  Almost as if he didn’t hear me, he blurted out, “And what about Cam? Do you know what that kid’s been through, how horrible he’s been treated just because he’s gay? Nothing you and I have been through can compare to the horrors that boy has seen. Do you know how good it would be for him to have another role model, another grown, successful gay man in his life? You could make a huge difference in his life if you were more honest about your own.”

  I sighed and cranked my head to look at him as the entrance to the ranch got closer. “We all have different experiences and reasons for living the way we do. I don’t think it’s fair for you to judge me. There isn’t one right way to be a happy, healthy gay man, Wyatt. You should know that.” I didn’t like that he was unerringly poking at some of my most tender places. Could I do more? Should I do more? What would I lose if I did? Those questions had haunted me for a long time. Fear of change and of the unknown was a real bitch.

  He made a noise again and narrowed his eyes at me. “Okay, but are you happy and healthy, Rodie?”

  Was I? Depended on the day. But I could honestly say I’d felt happier and healthier when I’d had his mouth pressed against mine a few moments ago.

  I narrowed my eyes back at him and growled, “What about you? When was the last time you were actually happy, Special Agent?”

  Wyatt stiffened and I could feel waves of tension coming off of him. A heavy, thick silence descended on us, and it wasn’t until the massive ranch house and big barn on the Warner’s property came into view several moments later that Wyatt spoke.

  “The last time I was happy was when I came out of surgery and Webb told me our mother was dead.” He sucked in a breath and then let out a dry, brittle laugh. The sound actually hurt to hear. “Instead of being relieved I was alive, I was excited she was gone and could no longer play her games with me and Webb. She was a terrible mother, and an awful person, but what does it say about me that I was glad she was no longer a threat? Doesn’t that make me even worse than she was?”

  I pulled to a stop in front of his bunkhouse, turning so we were facing each other. Clearly, we both had ghosts from the past haunting us, some hanging on for dear life. He might seem like he had his shit together, but at the moment, he was just as messed up on the inside as he was on the outside. Wyatt reached for the door handle, his voice quiet and serious when he told me, “I liked kissing you, Sheriff, but I’m not sure I actually like who you are. I’m not entirely sure what to do with that.”

  I heaved a deep sigh and dropped my forehead to the steering wheel. My radio crackled to life once again, and I knew I had to get back to work and stop chasing after my almost-impossible fantasy.

  “We all learn how to survive in whatever way works best for us. You did it by putting your mother firmly in the ‘enemy’ category and distancing yourself from the damage she could do. I did it by becoming whoever I needed to be in order to succeed. Maybe we both need to figure out who we really are without the expectations of anyone else hanging over our heads.” I turned my head to look at him and was surprised to find him watching me with intent, quizzical eyes.

  “What if who you really are is a man who wants to be open about who he is and who he loves? How are you going to handle that? How is this town going to adjust?” He shook his head again and shoved open the door. “Thanks for the ride and for introducing me to Miranda. I think this is as far as we can go together. This is who I really am, Rodie. There is no better version of me hidden somewhere.”

  My hand reached out to grab the hem of his t-shirt before I could think better of it. Wyatt paused, half in, half out of the SUV. His eyebrows lifted and his lips twisted into a pensive frown. My eyebrows shot up and I gave him a lopsided grin.

  “I’m not complaining about this version of you. This is the version I wanted to kiss. This is the version I jerk off to every other night. This is the version I want to take to bed and keep there until neither one of us can walk straight. There is nothing wrong with who you are, Wyatt. There’s nothing wrong with who I am either. I just think it’s possible that the right person in your life might make you want to change in unexpected ways.”

  He made a confused face as he pulled away and climbed the rest of the way out of the SUV.

  “You think you’re the right person for me, Sheriff?”

  He made it sound like it was impossible, so I flashed him a grin and told him with a fair amount of certainty, “No, I’m not saying that. What I’m saying is, I’m pretty sure you’re the right person for me, Special Agent.”

  Wyatt

  “So, what do you think?”

  Webb’s voice was more excited than I’d ever heard it. He sounded like what I assume a normal kid sounded like on Christmas morning. We’d never had the luxury of presents under a tree. Hell, we were lucky if there was bread and peanut butter in the pantry on any given holiday. When we were younger, our mom’s family, our aunts and uncles, did their best to include Webb and me in celebrations, but my mother, being the sick and twisted woman she was, insisted we didn’t need
frivolous things like toys and games. She haughtily told the rest of the family her kids weren’t going to be spoiled brats, and we weren’t. No, we were deeply scared and emotionally scarred. We grew up doing whatever we had to in order to survive and fighting every single day so we could stay together.

  I looked around the crumbling farmhouse Webb was practically giddy over. When he told me he finally found a place he and Ten agreed on, I expected more than a house that looked like it was barely standing. The whole place needed to be bulldozed and rebuilt, but Webb was looking at the rotting walls and collapsing beams as if the house were a true gem.

  I kicked at a loose floorboard with the toe of my sneaker and winced when the entire plank lifted, nails sticking out in all directions.

  “Needs some work, kiddo.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him the whole place screamed ‘money pit.’ “I can’t believe Ten approves of a house that needs so much renovation.” She wasn’t a patient woman by any means, and she was super busy. She was always on call, so there was no way she could help Webb breathe life back into this building. Not that my little brother was Mr. Fix-It. He was handy enough with the basics, but this decrepit relic needed an entire overhaul.

  Webb chuckled and walked over to a broken window so he could drag a finger through the dust accumulated on the grimy pane. “She’s actually found this piece of property. She’s more interested in the land than the house. I guess it’s been on the market for a while, but the price was outrageous. The owner recently passed away and the family wants to ditch the property as quickly as possible.” He shrugged. “I have more money than I know what to do with. Might as well invest it in the future. There’s enough land here to build a house, a barn, and another house.” He turned and lifted his eyebrows at me. “There’s enough land to put down roots and create something that’s ours. Something no one can come and take away from us. Isn’t that what you’ve always dreamed of?”