Jill Shalvis - Then Came You

She surprised him by suddenly seeming hugely relieved at his lack of response. “This is good,” she said, leaning back. “We can’t talk to each other. You know what that means? It means we’re totally unsuited. So all we have to do is not sleep together again, and it’ll be okay.” She glanced over at him. “We can do that, right?”

No, he was pretty sure they couldn’t. His expression must have answered for him.

“Crap,” she said finally. “We’re in big trouble, aren’t we?”

He was saved from having to answer that when his phone rang. He answered on Bluetooth and was shocked as hell when his mother’s voice filled the cab of his truck.

“Wyatt, darling,” she said. “So glad I caught you before I head into the Rome embassy.”

To hear from her was rare enough that his first question was the obvious. “You okay? Is Dad okay?”

“Of course,” she said. “We just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

He felt Emily look at him in surprise. “Mom,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s Zoe’s birthday, not mine.”

There was a long pause. “Are you sure?”

Wyatt choked out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Huh,” his mom said. “Okay, well, tell her I said happy birthday.”

His eye twitched. “Mom, you should tell her yourself.”

“No time now, darling. Call her for me, okay?”

“I don’t need to call her, I live with her,” he said.

“You’re still in Sunshine then, at Nana’s?” she asked with a whisper of disbelief.

Wyatt understood her confusion. His parents thrived on constantly being in motion, moving on to the next great place. They’d given their kids the world, all of it, every single corner, and they couldn’t comprehend them not loving that lifestyle.

“In Nana’s house,” she said. “In that crazy old place. I can’t even believe it’s still standing. How in the world are you managing? And Darcy, with all those stairs?”

None of these were real questions, they were purely rhetorical. His mom cared about the general well-being of her children, she really did. She just never needed the details. “We’re managing fine,” he said.

“But you all fought so much as children,” she said.

Still did, Wyatt thought, remembering the lamp.

“I just figured you’d sell that monstrosity and move on,” she said.

Yeah, definitely, an eye twitch. He put a finger to it. “Mom, I told you and Dad both when I first got here last year, I’m staying in Sunshine.”

“In Idaho,” she said, adding bafflement to her disbelief. “Idaho.”

“Idaho’s beautiful,” he said.

“Yes, but how many people can say they’ve seen the seven wonders of the world before the age of eighteen? And out of all those places, you end up in Idaho.”

“I’m happy here,” he said, very aware of Emily’s gaze on him. Guess she was going to get to know more about him than he’d counted on. “I’m staying.”

“The three of you, together. It’s so . . . domesticated,” she said, still confused.

The truth was, just about everything Wyatt had ever done had confused her. Trying to collect animals wherever they went, wanting to stay in the same school for more than a month, insisting on attending college and vet school in the States. Vet school! That had really baffled her, and now here he was, living in Sunshine, which barely showed up on a map. “I realize your offspring living in nana’s house, fixing it up together, boggles your mind, Mom. But Zoe’s still flying the friendly skies and seeing the world, and I can assure you, Darcy’s as wild and untamable as ever. You did good there, real good.”

“I’m sensing sarcasm, Wyatt James Stone,” his mom said. “You know I don’t like sarcasm.”

He bit his tongue, which went against the grain for him. But talking to her never failed to remind him of why he led the life he did. Growing up, he’d had zero choices. But he had choices now, and no one could take them away.

“I’ve got to run,” his mom said.

The story of his life. But at least he no longer had to pack up and run with her.

“Send my wishes to the girls,” she said.

“Will do—” But she’d disconnected.

Emily found herself fascinated by the inadvertent peek into Wyatt’s personal life. Fascinated, and full of a surprising empathy. “Your parents live in Rome?” she asked.

Wyatt kept his eyes on the highway as he drove. “This month.”

Interesting that while at first glance he appeared to be relaxed and in his driving zone, his mouth was a little grim, his hands tight on the wheel.

He drove to the next town over from Sunshine, where there were more restaurant options. He parked, and they walked the short distance to the heart of downtown.

“Thai, Mexican, Sushi, or American cuisine,” he asked, gesturing to her choices.

Thai was good, but it always gave her a stomachache. Mexican was even better, but then she’d have pico de gallo breath. Sushi could go either way.

No, wait. A stomachache or bad breath didn’t matter.

Because they weren’t going to sleep together again.

Nope, that ship had sailed. Completely. Gone, over the horizon never to be seen again.

Even if for some crazy reason she wanted to hug him— which was a little like wanting to hug a polar bear—cuddly but rather dangerous.

“Emily?”

Her gaze went to his mouth. Did he know he had a great mouth? “American cuisine,” she heard herself say.

His lips curved. “Emily.”

She lifted her gaze to his and winced at his knowing smirk. Busted. Had she thought he needed a hug?

“Better,” he said.

“Hey, maybe you have something on your mouth,” she said. “Like a crumb or something.”

“Do I?”

She bit her lower lip. Save face and lie? Or come clean and admit she was lusting after him. Lie , she decided. “Yes,” she said.

“Where?” He swiped his forearm over his mouth. “Better?”

She couldn’t explain herself in a million years, but she shook her head and went up on tiptoes, touching his lips with her fingertips. “Here,” she whispered, and then, clearly in the throes of a psychotic break, she pressed her mouth to the spot.

Wyatt’s hands went to her hips, tightening their grip when she pulled back.

“You get it?” he asked, voice low but tinged with amusement as well as heat.

Not trusting her voice, she nodded, and telling herself that was absolutely the last time she touched—or kissed— him, they went inside the restaurant. They ordered bacon blue burgers and seasoned sweet potato fries, and some locally brewed beer.

The food was fantastic.

So was the company.

In Emily’s world, there were pretty much three levels of existence; bad, okay, and good. Bad was having her mom slowly die over a five year period from complications of MS. Okay was attending vet school after earning her undergraduate degree, but nearly killing herself to do it, because she had to keep a job on the side to pay for such luxuries as eating and helping her dad with medical bills. Good was pretty much the same, but school was finally over and she was actually working at her dream job—albeit about a thousand miles away from where she’d planned. In one year though, she could have her dream job, in her dream location. Life might achieve great status.

She didn’t see room for a distraction named Wyatt. She understood the attraction—she’d have to be dead and buried not to be attracted to him, but he was a damn big deviance from her Plan.

Too big.

One beer loosened her tongue, two beers separated it from her brain. So naturally she had two. “Your mom’s interesting.”