Calder elbows me gently. “If she’s into casual and she’ll be moving out and moving on after she has the baby, you’d be a fool not to go for it.”

  I consider that idea as I turn and see that Trista is in a conversation with my brother Max now. It looks kind of serious, based on her pensive expression. Paranoia prickles over what he might be talking to her about, so I nod to Calder and Luke to make my way over there. My heart thunders when Trista squeals and reaches out to hug him.

  “What’s going on?” I ask as I set the glass of juice in front of Trista and turn hard eyes on my older brother.

  “Nothing yet,” Max replies, pulling away with a laugh. “I just let Trista know that if she opens up her wildlife facility, my company would be happy to donate.”

  “Isn’t that amazing?” she exclaims with a big smile like he’s just gifted her the world.

  My jaw clenches, and I force out a noncommittal “Sure.”

  Trista frowns curiously at me, and I feel my brother’s judgmental stare weighing down on me. “You good?” Max asks, his voice deep and knowing.

  “I’m great,” I reply crisply, turning on my heel. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

  I take off for the bar, ignoring the curious looks of my brothers as I struggle to control my temper. Fucking Max is always trying to do too much. I don’t need him to step in and save the woman I hired to have my baby, just like I didn’t need his lawyer to arrange this whole thing. Trista doesn’t need his corporate money either. She’s a trailblazer, a nontraditional thinker. She’s figuring her life out on her own terms...just like I am. Or so I thought.

  Now I have to wonder why it seems so easy for her to accept something from my brother when I get pushback for trying to buy her a damn bed? Or bring her breakfast. Or fill her car up with gas one time. Or ask her if Avery is taking advantage of her. She makes no fucking sense.

  I decide that keeping my distance from Trista for the rest of this party is key to my sanity because I’m not in a partying mood. And it’s not just because Max offered money to Trista. It’s because this party is just a painful reminder that Everly is moving away in a couple of months, and our dad isn’t here to celebrate her. Our family is getting smaller by the minute.

  “Wyatt, honey, is Trista still here?” my mom asks, interrupting my solitary poolside brooding.

  “She’s over there.” I point at where I’ve been watching her for the better part of an hour. It’s dark now, and the sun has all but vanished behind the foothills. The DJ lights cast a colorful glow on Trista’s face as they spin around the patio. She looks like she’s entertaining the hell out of Everly’s friends, all of them erupting into fits of giggles every five seconds. She was worried about not knowing anyone here tonight, but she seems to be fitting in just fine. And I hate how much that bugs me. I wanted her to have fun. I wanted her to cut loose and relax. What is my fucking problem?

  “I want to give her this quilt I made.” My mom turns to head toward her with a gift bag in hand.

  “You shouldn’t give that to her,” I call out before she gets too far away. “She doesn’t like gifts.”

  My mom’s brows furrow as she turns to look back at me. “What?”

  “She was unhappy about the bed I bought her, so I’m sure she won’t like that quilt.” I sip the warm beer I’ve been nursing.

  My mom looks crestfallen. “I’ve been working on this since your first ultrasound.”

  I shrug dismissively. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  Her eyes narrow as she marches over to me. “Wyatt Anthony Fletcher, whatever the hell is the matter with you...get over it.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but she holds her hand up to silence me.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” she snaps, her tone lethal. “I’m a grieving widow who’s spent hours making this quilt for the woman carrying my future grandchild, and I will not be told I can’t give it to her. I will play the dead husband card until I’m also dead and cold in the ground beside him. You hear me?”

  Blood rushes in my ears as I realize what a complete fucking asshole I just was to my own mother. My mother! I open my mouth to apologize but am interrupted by Trista. “Everything okay over here?”

  My mom’s face morphs from rage-filled momma-bear mode to sweet, kind Johanna in the blink of an eye. She turns on her heel and coos softly, “There you are, Trista! Here, honey. This is just a little something to show my appreciation for letting me be a part of your first ultrasound. That was such a special day for me.”

  “Oh, wow, you didn’t have to do that.” Trista reaches inside the gift bag and gasps at the intricately made quilt. Her lips part in shock. “Wait, this is incredible. Are you sure you don’t want to keep this for the baby?”

  “No, silly, it’s for you.” My mom rubs Trista’s arm affectionately, proud of a creation I’m sure she’s worked around the clock on.

  She’s quilted for as long as I can remember. After my dad died, she made all of us quilts from his old T-shirts. It was really thoughtful, but sadly, mine sits in a closet upstairs because it’s still too hard for me to look at.

  “I know it’s summertime, but nights are cold up on the mountain, and this will make you feel nice and cozy up there.”

  “Wow...this is so kind of you,” Trista says with a soft smile. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetie.” My mom arches a knowing brow at me. “I just want you to know how much we appreciate you. I put my phone number in the gift bag, and I want you to use it if you ever need to talk. I’ve been pregnant a time or two.”

  Trista looks touched, and they hug for a moment while my mom shoots daggers at me before excusing herself.

  The pool lights glow through Trista’s curls as she approaches me, a nervous glint in her eye that I don’t like. “Do you know if an Uber will take me back up the mountain?”

  “Why would you take an Uber?”

  “Because I’m exhausted, and we drove here with your brothers, and I don’t want to make you guys feel like you have to leave.”

  “I’ll drive you.” I set my unfinished beer on the table and heave myself off the pool chair.

  “What will your brothers do?” she asks, glancing over at the two of them sitting at the bar with a bunch of Max’s Boulder friends. They look like they’re several beers in and in no position to drive home anyway.

  “They’ll probably crash here at Max’s or call me for a ride later. It’s fine, I’ll go get the keys.”

  I make my way over to Calder and spot him at the edge of the bar in the middle of what looks like a tense discussion with Cozy’s best friend, Dakota. As far as I knew, these two hated each other. Ever since Calder fucked up Dakota’s house renovation years ago.

  And as I draw nearer, I discover that is likely still the case because I hear Dakota say, “Go fuck yourself, Calder,” before she storms away, nearly knocking me over on her way by.

  I slide my eyes to Calder. “What are you even doing? Isn’t she married?”

  Calder smiles devilishly, his eyes following Dakota’s hasty exit. “Recently divorced, actually.”

  “But doesn’t she hate you?”

  “Loathes me.” Calder’s eyes lower, and he sucks in a sharp breath. “I think I’m in love.”

  “Snap out of it,” I bark, hitting my brother on the shoulder. “I need the truck keys. Trista is ready to go. I’ll come back for you guys later.”

  “No problem.” Calder waggles his eyebrows suggestively as he hands them over. “At least one of us is getting lucky.”

  “Wrong,” I growl, shaking my head in defeat. “It’s not happening. And knowing Trista, it will never happen.”

  Calder looks at me in confusion as I grab the keys and skulk off, admitting that I’ve read this maddening woman all wrong. It’s not that she doesn’t like receiving gifts. It’s that she doesn’t like receiving them from me. And that kind of rejection stirs up old wounds that I’d rather not dig into.

  Chapter 30

  Weeks Pregnant: 14

  Animals on the Mountain: 4

  Trista

  The car ride back to the mountain is quiet and charged with something I can’t quite put my finger on. It isn’t until Wyatt parks in front of the barn that I finally get the balls to ask, “Will you just tell me what the hell is wrong with you?”

  The muscle in Wyatt’s jaw twitches under the dashboard lights before he reaches forward and shuts the truck off, still not answering me.

  “Clearly, something is wrong,” I urge, turning to face him fully. The silence in the truck is stifling. “Wyatt.” I shove him gently on his shoulder, trying to poke the bear because I want to get this over with...whatever it is. “Just say what’s on your mind.”

  He turns to face me, and the yellow outdoor light from the barn casts shadows on his face, making him even more handsome. “I just couldn’t help but notice tonight that you’re fine accepting gifts from everyone but me.”

  Without waiting for my reply, he gets out of the truck and makes his way into the barn to check on Millie. I usually find it really sweet, but his comment makes it a lot less cute.

  Sweet and psycho.

  I slide out of the truck to argue with him but pause outside the barn when a text comes in on my phone.

  Avery: Cow in distressed labor at a farm just west of Denver. Quick drive for you if you want to join.

  I hesitate in the doorway, chewing my lip as I debate this. Maybe it’d be better for me to get away from Wyatt and not stir things up any more than I already have.

  “What is it?” Wyatt asks as he steps out of Millie’s pen and closes the gate.

  I exhale heavily and slide my phone back into my purse. “Avery is treating a cow nearby. I might go help him.”

  Wyatt’s brows lift. “You said you were exhausted.”

  “I was,” I reply as I dig into my purse for my car keys. “But this is work.”

  “It’s not work,” he barks, marching over to me. His nostrils flare as he glowers down at me. “It’s voluntary. You don’t have to say yes.”

  “Maybe I want to say yes,” I exclaim, propping my hands on my hips.

  Wyatt reaches down and shocks me when he yanks the keys out of my hand. “It’s too late for you to drive to Denver.”

  My jaw drops as I stare at him, holding my keys. The absolute fucking nerve of this guy. “Give me my keys back.” I grind the words out slowly, my teeth cracking as I move closer to reach for them.

  “No,” Wyatt responds, pulling them back out of my grasp. “You’re not going.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I bellow, my entire body vibrating with barely concealed rage. “Why on earth do you think you have any right to dictate what I do?”

  “Because I’m looking out for you.” His voice booms in the quiet barn as he fingers my keys in his big hand. “You’re mine to take care of.”

  I stop attempting to grab them, my body frozen with that claiming statement he just made. It’s what he’s been silently saying for the past several weeks with the gifts and the demands, but now he’s saying the crazy part out loud. “You realize how nuts you sound, right?”

  “You work too much, Trista.” His voice cracks, showing a rare glimpse of emotion as the veins in his neck bulge. “You’ve been on your feet all day, and you need to take some time for yourself. Just this once, you should not go and help Avery.”

  “You’re not my dad, Wyatt!” I argue and jam a finger into his big, meaty chest. “You’re not even my daddy. You don’t get to control what I do even though it’s clear that’s exactly what you’re trying to do.”

  “How am I trying to control you?” Wyatt snaps, his brows folded in anger.

  “Oh, let me think,” I state dramatically, holding my fingers up to count down my list. “You keep your brothers from me, you barely let me talk to Everly’s stepmom earlier today, you ruined a potential donor situation with Max because he could clearly tell you didn’t like what he offered, and now you’re going to tell me I can’t go help my friend?”

  “A friend who wants to fuck you,” Wyatt snaps, irritation evident in the tremble of his body. “If Avery isn’t a part of your bullpen, he sure as hell wants to be.”

  “So what?” I cry out, my body exhausted at the mind games this guy is playing with me. “If I need to be fucked, then why shouldn’t it be Avery? Nothing in our contract said I had to be celibate and in complete solitude for these next several months, so if I want to fuck Avery, I should be free to do that. It’s not like I can get pregnant again.”

  “God, you are so frustrating!” He turns on his heel and marches down the alley of the barn. Millie’s head pops up as she presses her hooves to the top of the gate to watch the show.

  Reginald’s snout sticks out from beneath his pen door, clearly pissed about his shitty seats, and Handsome’s view isn’t much better. This barn is equipped for real-sized animals, not this pick-a-mix batch we have going on here.

  “You want to talk about frustrating?” I stomp over to the counter and slam my purse down so I can grab a fistful of granola bars. “Stop laying these barn snacks out. I know you’re doing it just for me. You’re not subtle, Wyatt.”

  He turns on his heel and scoffs, “Oh, you don’t like those?”

  “I love them!” I retort.

  “Then what is the issue?” he begs, his hands stretched out in confusion.

  “I don’t know!” I cry out with exasperation, and Millie bleats her agreement. Or maybe her disagreement. I suppose she’s Team Wyatt since he saved her damn life, the traitor. I rake my hands through my hair and damn near sob, “I just want to feel like I can breathe again. Like I can take a full breath without feeling your presence all around me. I’m used to being on my own, and you are smothering me.”

  His blue eyes darken as he stares at me from across the barn, watching my chest rise and fall with the emotion of my confession. It feels weird to accept so much from one person. It feels wrong and worrisome, and I want clearer boundaries.

  Because if I’ve learned anything over the past twenty-eight years, it’s that nothing comes without a cost.

  Relationships don’t last.

  People leave.

  You’re stronger on your own. You know this.

  But why am I tempted to allow Wyatt to look after me?

  With a pop of his jaw, he pushes off the stall and stalks toward me. I shift, feeling like I should be running for the hills from this crazy man who’s just trapped me up on a mountain alone with him. But I don’t run. I stand my ground as he moves into my personal space, enveloping me in his scent. My ass presses up against the butcher-block counter as he bows over me and dips his head so he can meet my eyes straight on.

  “Or maybe, just maybe...” his deep voice rumbles, causing my entire body to tremble. “You’re not being smothered enough.”

  I struggle to meet his eyes as he looms over me in all his giant, flannel-wearing glory. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean, maybe if I just kissed you right now...maybe if I stuck my tongue down your throat and laid you down in one of these stalls and fucked your brains out like the fantasy you described in the truck, we could both finally breathe a little bit easier.”

  Holy tits on a bull, Wyatt is saying all the crazy parts out loud now.

  His face is deathly serious as he utters words I had merely fantasized about until now. But the reality of this man saying those words and looking at me like that...has far surpassed my wildest imagination.

  “I don’t give a fuck if you help out Avery, talk to my brothers and my sister-in-law, or accept gifts from my mother,” he states. “So long as you quit keeping me at arm’s length when it’s clear as fucking day that all you want is for me to touch you everywhere.”

  My body shudders with desire, my hormones raging at what this man has just laid out on the table. Surely, I haven’t been that obvious. Clearly, I’ve had moments of wanting him, but I’ve kept my cool with him...haven’t I?

  Then again, it’s been ages since I’ve had sex. An embarrassing amount of time. Couple that with my hormones, and I’ve probably been walking around this mountain like a farm animal in heat.

  But does he really mean what he’s saying? Or is he just nuts and possessive of this baby inside me? Never mind the fact that it’s wildly inappropriate to have sex with a man who’s paying me to have his baby. He’s all talk, surely.

  I’m going to call his bluff.

  I tilt my head and step into his space, my breasts pebbling as they brush just below his pecs. Jutting my chin up defiantly, I reply, “I wish you would fuck me. Maybe if you got off, then your grumpy mood would be slightly more tolerable.”

  His nostrils flare as the corner of his mouth tugs up into a smirk. “Don’t tease me, Lucky.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Mountain Man.” I swallow the lump in my throat as the pressure building in my chest, in my groin, in every part of my fucking body reaches its boiling point. I feel like I could burst at any moment, and this man hasn’t even laid a finger on me.

  He noisily sets my keys down and watches me for a moment, his brows lifting expectantly as he waits for me to grab them. When I don’t, he lifts his hand, and his warm, calloused fingers grip my neck. I inhale sharply as his thumb brushes over my chin and jaw as I lean back and allow him to command me because there’s not much else you can do when a man has you by the throat. The smell of him coats me, and I have to fight to catch my breath, my chest heaving with overwhelming need.

  His voice is dark and wicked when he says, “I’m not patronizing you, Trista. I would love nothing more than to take care of your every need, so if you want to be fucked, just say the word.”