“What’s her story?” The words popped out of Wyatt’s mouth before he could help himself.
“Her story?”
“Yeah, like, were she and Andy ever a couple?”
Trip’s brows rose before his face scrunched in dismay. “Doubtful. They’ve known each other their whole lives. Emma helped him out when he lost his job last winter, but as far as I know, they’re just friends—no benefits.”
Wyatt nodded, but his expression must’ve tipped off his relief.
Trip’s lips quirked into a knowing smile. “Deny it all you want, but fifty bucks says you don’t make it through the month without making a move. Fifty more says you fail.”
“First you warn me off, then you dare me with a bet?”
“Pay attention, Wyatt. To win the bets, you’ll have to keep your distance.”
“The second bet sounds more like a challenge, like you want me to try,” Wyatt said. Of course, to Wyatt, most things sounded like a challenge. “Either way, it’s a shitty bet for me. Even if I win the second part, I lose the first.”
“If you’re any kind of man, you’ll win what matters most. Now, much as I’d love to stay here and chitchat about romance, I’ve got to get home.”
“Thanks for working with me.”
“Hell, man, I get to hang out on the mountain with Wyatt fuckin’ Lawson. I should be thanking you.”
“We’ll see how you feel next week.” Any kind of hero worship made Wyatt uncomfortable. Being held up so high only meant the inevitable fall hurt more. And since Ryder’s accident, he’d felt anything but heroic.
Trip lightly punched Wyatt’s shoulder before walking away. “Tell Em I said ’bye.”
Wyatt sat alone in the blessed quiet, happy to have a few minutes without Mari, the crew, and Ryder hovering. ’Course it only took about thirty seconds for boredom to set in, so he went to the kitchen to thank Emma for hooking him up with Trip.
“Homemade tortillas?” He pointed at the press and the fresh shells piled on a platter.
“No preservatives.” She spoke without looking at him. Apparently the avocado she’d sliced open and was now dicing into a large bowl was far more interesting.
Her deft fingers worked quickly, neatly emptying the avocados without the fleshy insides getting smashed. What kinds of magic could those fingers work on his body? The mere thought strung tension through his muscles, as if his body had braced for an onslaught of sensation.
“Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.” She glanced at him, for a change. “Are you going to work with Trip?”
“Yes. Thanks for the suggestion. He’s knowledgeable and funny.”
“Funny? That’s one word for him, I suppose.” The dry delivery belied her little smile. Emma may not have a boyfriend, but she obviously had a tight group of friends and a lot of respect in the community. A kindhearted, trustworthy woman—something he hadn’t come across too often in his adult life. It made Emma appealing in yet another new way.
He imagined she’d offer her man shelter from every kind of storm. Wyatt had never, ever known that kind of security. He experienced, then, a stark moment of deep yearning for her to unlock the doors and let him in. If only he could find the key.
“Avery grounded me tomorrow,” he ventured. “Got any other suggestions for ways to keep occupied after yoga?”
Emma paused, looking uncomfortable. “If she wants you to rest, I’m happy to get you a book from the library. Or maybe you have Netflix?”
Okay, so she obviously had no interest in being his chaperone for the day. He wouldn’t push. He still had tomorrow, after all. “How about something Ryder and I can do together? Any particular sights we should see in town?”
Sighing, Emma wiped her hands on a nearby dishrag. “Actually, I’m pretty sure Ryder’s coming with me tomorrow to Canyon Care Center.”
“What?” What was going on with those two?
“I volunteer there every Monday and Ryder’s thinking of joining me tomorrow. Standard stuff—bingo, manicures, cards. Anyway, that means you’ll have plenty of peace and quiet around here.”
She’d made plans with Ryder behind his back? Irritation and envy caused him to step closer. Close enough to see her pulse throbbing at the base of her neck. Did he frighten her, and if so, why? Or maybe her standoffishness was an act—a form of self-protection. Maybe his nearness affected her as completely and irrationally as hers affected him. Maybe he had a shot. Damn, Trip just might win one of those bets. “Do I seem like a guy who enjoys peace and quiet?”