“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” she says with a warm smile. “They’re good boys...these days, at least. And it’s high time that mountain had a woman up there again.” She pauses to gesture to our plates. “Anyway, you two enjoy your food. Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

  My eyes are wide and blinking as she walks away like she didn’t just drop a little bomb on our meal here. I turn a curious look at Wyatt. “What woman is she referring to?”

  He shakes his head dismissively. “It’s nothing.”

  “Doesn’t sound like nothing,” I pry because it sounds like the exact opposite of nothing. It sounds juicy. “You just said you don’t date, so was it one of your brothers’ girlfriends who lived up there?”

  Wyatt looks visibly uncomfortable as he struggles to eat.

  “Was it someone you had relations with? Like of the sexual variety?”

  His eyes snap to mine, full of warning, but I will not be deterred.

  “My interest is piqued. Maybe I’ll go get the dirt from Judy or one of the locals. They’re much chattier than you.” I move to get up, and he sets his fork down and reaches out to grab my hand, halting me in my tracks. His hand is warm, and I love the contrast of it against my skin so much that I have to fight the urge to turn my palm up and thread my fingers in his.

  When I sit back down, his brow crinkles as he quickly releases his hold on me. “There was a woman who lived in the barn apartment. She was new to town and a bartender here at the Mercantile. She needed a place to live, and, well...it was convenient.”

  “Kind of like me,” I offer cheerily.

  “She was nothing like you,” he nearly growls, and I get the distinct impression this woman wasn’t just a local needing a place to live. She was something much more.

  “Anyway, don’t worry about her. I gutted the apartment after she split. It’s much nicer now than when she lived there.”

  I nod slowly, wanting to pry further, but I gather that I’ve pushed this mountain man to his limit, so I should stop.

  Wyatt eyes me thoughtfully for a moment, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he chews his food and swallows. “What about you?”

  “What about me?” I grab a french fry and pop it into my mouth.

  “What’s your dating situation?” There’s an intensity in Wyatt’s eyes that wasn’t there a second ago. He probably thinks if I refuse to share my dating life story, then he’s in the clear, but the joke’s on him because I’m an open book.

  “Well, I’m not a monk, but I don’t date much.” I sigh heavily and prop my chin on my hand. “I’ve never even had a boyfriend, so there’s nothing good to really even share.”

  Wyatt’s brows fold as he tilts his head. “Never?”

  “Nope,” I reply with a shrug. “Guys I’ve hooked up with just seem to slowly stop talking to me. I pretty much always assume it’s because I’m fat.”

  Wyatt drops his fork on his plate, and the undiluted rage I see in his eyes is alarming. “You aren’t fat.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Wyatt, it’s okay. I like myself just fine. And I can admit that I’m fat. I’m okay with it.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “Well, thank you, but you can be beautiful and fat, you know?” I wink and kind of want to punch him.

  “I didn’t say you can’t.”

  My brows lift knowingly. “Are we fighting again?”

  “No, we’re not. I just...” Wyatt presses his hands together in front of him, clearly frustrated with this line of conversation. “You said guys stop talking to you because you’re fat. Therefore, you put being fat in a negative light. That’s what I’m questioning.”

  My head jerks back as he targets me with my own internalized fatphobia that I didn’t even realize I had. I don’t dislike my size. I like my body. I’ve always been big, so I’ve embraced it. I look in the mirror and tell myself I’m beautiful on a pretty regular basis. Even more beautiful now. My body is doing this pregnancy thing extraordinarily well, so I dare say my body is the shit.

  But when it comes to romantic partners, I suppose I haven’t been giving myself the same respect.

  “You’re right,” I offer simply because deep down, the fat thing is just the excuse I use for why I don’t let men get close enough to me to be more than sex. The real reason is much more intense and would probably take years of therapy to unpack.

  Wyatt nods firmly. “I just think confidence and independence are two qualities that some men find hard to handle in a woman, and you just haven’t found a guy strong enough not to be afraid of it.”

  My lips part in shock at this normally very quiet mountain man’s astute observation. I feel overwhelmed with the sense of wanting to fall head over heels in love with him or crawl across the table and fuck him in front of everyone staring at us right now. Maybe I want both.

  Fuck you, hormones!

  I steel myself to get my thoughts back on track. To not paint a picture of myself as this needy, insecure girl because I am not. I am woman, hear me roar.

  “The real reason is that I’m too selfish, I guess. I like just taking care of myself and my animals. Plus, not wanting kids can be a deal breaker for a lot of guys. If I have my animals, what more do I need in life?”

  Wyatt watches me thoughtfully for a moment, and I can’t help but see the mischievous glint flicker in his eyes. His voice is low and breathy when he asks, “What do you do if you have...needs? Besides your trusty pink vibrator, obviously.”

  The corner of his mouth tugs up into a teasing smirk as heat instantly floods my cheeks. God, this man can go from grumpy stick-in-the-mud know-it-all to wicked challenging sex on a stick in the blink of an eye. Those sundown sessions feel like ages ago now, but one little look from Wyatt, and I’m right back on his bed, getting myself off with his scent all around me.

  My voice is coy when I give him my answer. “I have some non-battery-operated options. Sort of a no-strings-attached roster that I access whenever I feel the need.” I pause to breathe because it suddenly feels very hot in this room. “My friend Avery calls it my bullpen.”

  And if I’m honest, as much as I’ve enjoyed that bullpen on and off over the years, and despite how horny these pregnancy hormones are making me, I haven’t once thought to hit them up.

  The brooding man in front of me obviously has nothing to do with that.

  Wyatt nods, watching me seriously, but says nothing. I really hate when he does that. Usually, I can tell what he’s thinking, but tonight, the look in his eye makes me wish he’d say the quiet part out loud.

  I stare back at him as our eyes play a game of chicken for who will look away first. I’m very competitive, so without blinking, I ask, “What about you? Do you have a bullpen of your own?”

  He watches me thoughtfully for a moment, his eyes dropping to my lips before he replies, “I haven’t felt the need to access it lately.”

  My lips purse together curiously. “Why is that?”

  A low rumble vibrates his chest as I watch his square jaw slide from side to side. “Because I might be focusing too much on getting into someone else’s bullpen.”

  With that simple reply, there’s a shift in the atmosphere. Suddenly, the air feels heavy and dense, like the calm before a really bad storm. Our food goes cold, and the gawkers around us disappear from my periphery. Right now, it’s just me and this bearded man staring at each other for what feels like a lifetime and a split second all at the same time.

  I open my mouth to ask what he means by that exactly when a glass shatters from somewhere behind the bar. It causes Wyatt to break eye contact with me, and I take that reprieve to drag in a deep, cleansing breath. Jesus Christ, I need to get control of these hormones.

  We’re quiet and contemplative for the rest of dinner, and when Wyatt parks in front of the barn to drop me off and do his nightly check on Millie, I wonder what his answer would have been if I’d asked him what I nearly asked him: Whose bullpen is he trying to get into?

  I’m just about to do the smart thing and say good night when he shocks me in the alley of the barn by pulling me into him. All the air escapes my lungs as my hands splay out on his chest and he wraps his arms around my shoulders. He presses his face down into my neck and holds me for a moment in the quiet of the barn.

  Wyatt and I don’t touch a lot...in fact, it’s probably a bad idea for him to make a habit of it because I was painfully reminded at dinner tonight that it’s been a while since I’ve felt the heat of a man. And if I’m not careful, I’ll misinterpret that naughty look in Wyatt’s eye tonight and think it’s my bullpen he’s set his sights on.

  But gosh, he feels too good to pull away from.

  His hot breath sends shivers down my neck as he says, “In case I don’t say this enough...thank you.”

  “For what exactly?” I murmur, my fingers flexing on his sculpted chest as I inhale deeply and revel his woodsy, mountain-rain scent.

  “For having a baby for me,” he replies simply, and his hand moves up to comb his fingers into my hair. It feels so good and so comforting my knees wobble, my body wanting to just fall into him like I fall into that expensive mattress every night. “I hope you know how much this means to me.”

  He releases me but stays close, his hands rubbing my arms as his blue eyes stare down at my face with so much reverence my heart thunders in my chest.

  I offer a wobbly smile and croak out, “Don’t mention it, Mountain Man.”

  A devastating smile lights up his face as he releases me to head up to my little apartment above the barn. As my shaky, lust-laden legs climb the stairs, I have one single, solitary thought on my mind...something this mountain needs more than anything. Even more than me getting laid...

  Chapter 27

  Weeks Pregnant: 13

  Animals on the Mountain: 4

  Wyatt

  “Abso-fuckin’-lutely not,” I growl as I park in front of the barn and stare at the mini horse Trista is currently preparing to lead off a trailer. I step out of my truck and stomp over to her, shaking my head adamantly.

  “Wyatt!” She draws out my name with a big, toothy smile from inside the trailer. “You’re home early.”

  “What the hell is going on?” My teeth are clenched as I come eye to eye with a horse whose tongue is hanging out of its mouth.

  “This is Handsome!” She wraps her arm around his neck and gives him a hug. “Ain’t he a beaut?”

  “What the fuck is wrong with him?” I ask when I notice his tongue just sort of hangs there permanently.

  “Nothing!” She swerves an accusing glare at me. “He’s perfect just the way he is.”

  “Well, that’s not technically true,” a male voice corrects, and I glance past Trista to see a guy stepping out from behind the gate inside the trailer. He drops a bag of feed on the trailer floor and lays a hand on the back of the chestnut mini horse. “He has a neuromuscular disease that caused the relaxed-tongue issue. I’m afraid it’s untreatable. Just be sure any buckets or feeders you use with him don’t have any sharp edges, and make sure he doesn’t start chewing on your wooden fence out there. Lacerations are kind of common with this issue.”

  He looks at me like he’s giving me these instructions. Like this horse is now my responsibility. “I’m sorry, but who the fuck are you?” I snap, my temper getting the best of me as I stare at the guy who looks about my age but several inches shorter than me. Hell, I think he might even be shorter than Trista.

  “Wyatt, this is Avery.” Trista smiles and places her hand on his shoulder. “He’s the large-animal vet in Denver who I help. I’ve mentioned him to you before. We’ve been friends for years.”

  Avery’s a man? Her best friend...is a dude?

  “Gosh, how long has it been?” He scratches the back of his neck as he squints at Trista. “Ten years?”

  “I was nineteen when I started at my first shelter, so that must be about right.” Trista smiles brightly. “Avery and I met when we were both asked to be guest judges for a golden retriever talent show—”

  “At the downtown library,” he says, finishing her sentence. “God, that was such a weird event.”

  “Weirdly awesome,” Trista exclaims, laughing and looking back at me. “This one contestant just lay on the ground and had his golden eat treats out of his mouth. Not at all a talent, but it was still fantastic. Honestly the best Sunday afternoon I can remember in a long time.”

  “Jesus, you were only nineteen back then?” Avery asks, frowning over at the woman currently pregnant with my child. The way his eyes twinkle at her irritates the fuck out of me. “I thought you were older. You seemed older.”

  Trista’s jaw drops as she whacks him on the arm. “You better not be saying I looked old!”

  “No, no, no.” Avery laughs and clutches Trista’s hand to his arm. “You looked beautiful. You just seemed so mature for that age.”

  “I’m an old soul.” Trista smiles over at him and bats her eyes.

  I clear my throat to snap their attention back to me. I have yet to meet a single person in Trista’s life, and the fact that it’s this guy Avery who Trista spends an obscene amount of time with...unpaid, doesn’t sit well with me. Especially because I thought Avery was a girl until two fucking minutes ago.

  “Thought you were a chick.” The intrusive thought spills out through my clenched teeth.

  Avery laughs a boyish laugh that I hate. “Not last time I checked.”

  “It’s just that Trista spends a lot of time with you,” I add, shoving the sleeves of my flannel up to reveal my ink. It’s a douchebag move that I’m not proud of, but I’m highly agitated at the moment. “She spends a lot of hours volunteering for you. I take it your vet clinic is for charity?”

  “Gosh, no.” Trista laughs nervously, her head snapping back to Avery. “I told you he’s training me, Wyatt.”

  Avery’s eyes narrow on me like a bull getting ready to charge. “She’s got big goals, and I’m trying to help her achieve them, that’s all. I think Trista is capable of great things.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that,” I reply curtly, stepping closer to the trailer, my eyes locked on his, the horse’s floppy tongue lolling in the corner of my eye. “Just hard to make those dreams a reality when she’s always working for free.”

  “Wyatt,” Trista snaps, her voice echoing inside the small trailer and spooking the animal.

  “Lucky she found such a great situation here with you, then.” Avery offers me a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Definitely an interesting way to start a family.”

  His tone is very clearly judgmental, and I feel slightly betrayed when my eyes move to Trista. What has she told him about me? About us? How is she framing this?

  Ignoring her frustrated glare, I glance at the animal in Trista’s hands. “What’s the plan here for Handsome?” I feel stupid the instant that name comes out of my mouth, but now I’m committed. “Just paying Millie, Reginald, and Strudel a quick visit?” Seriously, these fucking names are not helping me be intimidating right now. “And then getting right back in that trailer to return to where he came from?”

  Trista smiles politely as she hands the halter off to her “friend” and walks toward me. I reach out to help her down off the trailer, and she doesn’t miss a beat when she hits the ground and drags me by the arm toward the barn, out of earshot from the vet with that annoyingly perfect smile and cocky glint in his eye.

  As we stand facing each other inside the barn, my eyes wander down to her thirteen-week belly. She’s dressed in her Carhartt overalls, and I think I can see a bump starting to form, though if you didn’t see her on a regular basis, you might not notice it.

  Either way, she looks perfect.

  And the baby growing inside her is perfect too. I’ve been on a high since our appointment last week. The baby wiggled and danced all over the screen, and I’m not ashamed to admit I showed my whole damn family the photos from that day.

  And Trista and I seem to be getting along better than ever too. Her morning sickness has subsided, and she hasn’t complained about the snacks I leave around the barn to help keep her comfortable. Life has been good here on the mountain...until this fucking Avery guy showed up.

  “Wyatt, you’re being crazy rude to my friend.” She seethes, tucking back some curly strands that have fallen out of her topknot.

  “Friend,” I scoff and shake my head. “You could have mentioned it was a dude.”

  “What difference does it make?”

  I jut my head toward her, my eyes dancing over the freckles on her face. “Just feels like you kept it from me on purpose. Why would you do that?”

  “I kept nothing from you on purpose,” she exclaims, hugging her thumbs onto her overalls. God, have her breasts gotten even bigger since last week? “You probably just didn’t listen.”

  “All I do is listen,” I retort, feeling the veins in my neck bulge as I tower over her. I listened very intently when she told me she has a roster of men she can call to fuck anytime. That little sentence has played on repeat in my mind ever since, haunting my every waking moment. My voice is low when I add, “You never mentioned Avery was a guy. Is that because he’s a part of your bullpen?”

  Her eyes are lasers as she stares up at me. “And what if he is?”

  My nostrils flare as my eyes drop to her lips. “Then he’s taking advantage of you in more ways than one.”

  “Here we go.” Trista rolls her eyes to the heavens. “You thought my boss, Earl, was taking advantage of me too. Do you want to know if he’s in my bullpen too?”

  “Well,” I snap back, my hands flexing at my sides as I fight the urge to touch her. “These men occupy a lot of your time.”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” She gestures to her belly to confirm her point, and I sag back, feeling wounded, but she steps into my space, her finger sharp as she pops it into my chest. “People like me have to work a lot to get anywhere in life, Wyatt. Stuff isn’t just handed to me. I didn’t inherit a job under my father’s business that allowed me to buy a big mountain and pay someone to have my baby and shower her with gifts and cleaning ladies and food deliveries. I may be your lucky number, but I’m still waiting for my own lotto numbers to be drawn because when this is all over, I have a life to get back to that I’m still figuring out.”