Laughter followed them as they drove away.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Wyatt’s home sat on the opposite side of town from R&B’s. The single-story ranch sat on a little bit of land, as did most of the homes in the area. As a kid she’d passed this place continually en route to her family home, which sat on a hill behind his.
The house was dark with the exception of a single porch light.
They’d driven to his house with only a few words.
Are you sure about this?
More than sure.
It was the holding of her hand the entire trip to his home that turned her to mush. The cab of Wyatt’s truck wasn’t exactly small, and his reach had to be uncomfortable . . . but he held it anyway.
He pulled into the driveway, then lifted a finger in the air when she reached for the door. “Hold up.”
She let go of the handle and waited for him to run around the truck to open the door for her.
“You’re crazy.”
“A little,” he agreed as he grasped her hand and tucked her into his side. “The house isn’t as bad as Luke led you to believe.”
The second her foot stepped through the front door, she thought Luke had it completely right. The bare living room held a couch, a hillbilly coffee table, and a TV.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asked as he led her to his kitchen. Obviously this was one of the finished rooms. Granite countertops and modern appliances were the cornerstone of the warm and inviting space. Brushed nickel pulls on the aged maple cabinets matched the longneck faucet over the sink. Melanie was innately happy Wyatt wasn’t into a cold, modern style of living with hard edges and uninviting surfaces.
“I’m good,” she told him. After turning a full circle, she asked for a bathroom.
“I have two, but the one in my bedroom is the only one working.”
She pointed down the hall. “That way?”
“End of the hall, double doors.”
She passed a couple of closed doors before making her way into Wyatt’s bedroom. Rustic wood furniture filled in the generous space. Dark colors adorned his unmade bed and a copy of Lee Child’s latest novel sat on the side table. One rustic red wall accented the room and drew her eye to a single piece of art. The Oregon coast with sea cliffs and crashing waves was captured in the same muted tones of the room, blending perfectly with the decor. To say she was impressed would have been an understatement.
When she stepped into the bathroom and switched on the light, she let out a tiny gasp.
The space was huge compared to most of the homes in River Bend. A deep vessel bathtub sat in front of a large window, the double vanity had glass sinks and a furniture base that she would never have thought would work together, but they did. It was the shower that was the most impressive, however. She couldn’t help but duck inside the space and gawk. A rain showerhead hovered on the ceiling with a fixed head on one side and a removable one on the other. The glass enclosure kept the space bright and cheery despite the dark tiles that covered the wall. It was stunning . . . all of it.
She caught her reflection in the mirror while she was washing her hands a couple of minutes later.
What a mess. Paint was everywhere, her eyes held tiny circles from many late nights and not enough sleep. How could Wyatt look at her and do anything but cringe?
She removed the band from her hair and attempted to run her fingers through it and untangle some of the mess a labor-filled day caused.
It only looked worse.
She undid one of the buttons on her blouse and pushed her breasts a little higher in her bra before letting her hands drop to her sides. There wasn’t anything remotely sexy about her at two in the morning, she decided.
Second and third thoughts about being with Wyatt started to seep in. Not that she didn’t want the next step, but that he might realize that a woman like her might not measure up. Then the most disturbing thought of all came from nowhere . . . had Wyatt ever slept with a woman who had a child before? Melanie lifted her shirt and patted her mostly flat stomach.
A soft knock on the door had her tugging her shirt back down.
“You get lost in there?”
“Ah, no.” She scrambled with nerves leading her actions. She turned on the water and let it run for a second before turning it off. The reflection in the mirror laughed at her before she stopped watching it and walked away.
Wyatt stood outside the door, a cocky grin lingering on his face. “I was starting to worry.”
Melanie ran a hand over her hair, knew it was useless. “It’s a nice bathroom.” She wasn’t usually a nervous laughter kinda girl, but that was starting to change. “I’m a mess.”
“You’re beautiful.”
She leaned against the door frame and tried to feel the smile. “I look about as sexy as a wet cat.”
Wyatt’s eyes did a slow dance down her frame and took their time moving back up. A warm shiver had her catching her breath.
He took a step toward her and pulled her back into the bathroom. He sat her on the edge of the tub and turned toward the shower. He had the water flowing and the bright lights in the room dimmed to a romantic glow that made Melanie smile.
He leaned down and pulled her shoes off one at a time. All the while she watched him. Wyatt ran the edge of his thumb on her instep once her sock left her foot, and moved to the next. With her shoes to the side, he placed both hands on her bare knees and smiled up at her. Then, without notice, he grasped her hips and lifted her off the tub and carried her to the shower.
“I’m still dressed,” she offered a protest.
“So am I.” But he took them both into the warm spray of water anyway.