Andy, unaware of her discomfort, raised his hand to give Wyatt a high five. “If you want to head out any night, I’ll show you the best ladies’ nights in town.”
If Andy was ready to troll for random women, then she must’ve read too much into his earlier compliment. Her shoulders relaxed, finally. She loved her friendship with Andy and would regret if anything changed it.
Relief then made room for concern, because Andy’s probation required abstinence. Of course, he could hunt for women while sober. Being Wyatt’s wingman would give him ample prey. No doubt there were plenty of women who’d throw themselves at Wyatt, unashamed, just as “Alexa” had done.
Wyatt shook his head. “Thanks, man, but I’ve got to stick to a strict training schedule. No drinks or other distractions.”
He’d stared straight at Emma when he said that last part. His stare did funny things to her belly, prompting a mishmash of sensations. Sensations she didn’t want to remember. And images she didn’t want him to remember.
The gorgeous antique bar and crystal chandelier of Aspen’s J-Bar rushed forward. She’d chosen the upscale hangout because she’d been dressed to the nines. She’d never expected to see Wyatt Lawson there, but once she’d spotted him sitting in one of the leather highbacks at the bar, she’d tapped into her courage and bought him a tequila shot to celebrate his win. Within ninety minutes and two more shots, he’d coaxed her to his room.
She’d had her fun that night and then walked away before he could make up excuses for ditching her. Emma might not have much, but she did have pride, and that meant she’d never end up losing her heart to a man dead set on fame. A man who was sure to leave.
Resolved to treat Wyatt like—and only like—an esteemed guest of the inn, she changed the subject. “Andy, can you please take care of those items we discussed?”
Once Andy exited the kitchen, she asked, “What can I do for you this time, Mr. Lawson?”
“That’s the second “Mr. Lawson” of the day.” Wyatt leaned his hip against the doorframe. “My dad’s been dead for some years now.”
“I’m sorry.” He seemed young to have already lost a parent, but she’d effectively lost hers even younger, so maybe it didn’t matter much.
“Thanks, but how ’bout you call me Wyatt?”
“Mr. Lawson” had afforded her the distance from “Dallas” that she needed to ensure she didn’t slip up, but how could she refuse this request without appearing a total prig? “Wyatt, then. What can I do for you?”
“What are my choices?” His slow smile caused her spine to stiffen as she steeled herself against the empty flirtation. He held up his hands in surrender, somehow sensing her discomfort, which embarrassed her. “Just kidding. It’s going to be a long month around here if you don’t relax a little. I don’t bite . . . unless I’m asked.”
Just like that, she recalled his bite in vivid detail. Her nipples tightened at the memory of his teeth grazing them, and of his tongue soothing them afterward. The vision appeared so quickly she couldn’t suppress her wide-eyed involuntary response.
“I’m sorry,” he said, quickly. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m not used to someone so . . . proper. I’m harmless, though.”
Hardly. Emma cleared her throat, suddenly feeling old and stodgy and self-conscious. “It’s fine. But I assume you came in here for a reason.”
“I’m going on a run. In about an hour, could you whip up one of those peanut butter protein shakes I’d put on my list?”
“Sure, but your schedule said lunch should be served at one o’clock today. If you’re going out now and want a shake afterward, shall I just serve the others lunch without you?”
“Go ahead. I’m off schedule today, but I had a big breakfast and a snack on the road, so I’ll be okay.” Then Wyatt tipped his head and eyed the bag of almonds on the counter. “Did you know almonds are part of the peach family?”
“More trivia?”
“Fun facts with Wyatt Lawson.” Grinning, he held his arms out from his side. “It’s my plan B, in case this comeback doesn’t work out so well.”
Emma covered a smile. He joked, but she sensed some truth, or at least some insecurity, behind the bravado. “Good luck with that, then.”
“Yeah.” He paused before asking, “Anyhow, where’s the high school stadium?”
“About two miles south of here on Miner’s Pass Road. Why?”
“I’d like to add some stair-climbing to help me adjust to the altitude.”