He slid the gloves on his hands and went to work crumbling up the cake. He’d be pissed at Trip, except he guessed the guy was alerting her to the chance that Wyatt would seduce her with false promises. Trip needn’t have bothered. Emma had never shown any real interest in Wyatt. All the tension he’d thought he felt between them had probably been more from scorn than attraction. Even now she resumed her work, apparently unaffected by his presence, lost in her own thoughts while she finished setting up the icing.
“Tell me something,” Wyatt began, unable to pretend it didn’t bug the shit out of him. “Why don’t you like me?”
“Did you come to that conclusion simply because, unlike other women, I’m not jumping into your bed?” Emma slid the bowl of crumbled cake toward her and mixed it together with the icing. “I like you fine for someone I barely know. I’m just not interested in being the next notch on your bedpost.”
“That’s a big assumption . . . about me, I mean.”
Emma cast an incredulous look his way before laughing. “Are you really going to stand there and pretend you haven’t been with a hundred women, if not more? Don’t bother, Wyatt. Your reputation precedes you.”
“Reputations are usually exaggerated.” He knew it. She’d written him off because of his past.
“Whatever.” She paused, looking as if she were about to lay him out with a whopper of a statement, then reeled it in and shrugged. “Point is, I don’t dislike you, but that doesn’t mean I want to . . . be with you.”
He noticed she didn’t look at him when she said that last part. Could she be lying to him, or to herself? It might not matter, but he hated the way she’d thrown his reputation in his face, even if it wasn’t really all that exaggerated. He’d never forced any woman to do anything she didn’t want to do.
His mood shifted, veering toward irritation. If he wanted to get laid, he could find a dozen willing partners, none of whom would try to put him in his place.
“Who says I’m dying to be with you? Maybe I’m only looking to make things friendly around here this month. The pressure on me is pretty damn intense. Ryder’s giving me attitude, Mari’s up my ass, and you barely crack a smile around me. All I want is for everyone to be a little more positive and fun.”
Emma frowned, pouring the contents of an industrial-size container of jimmies into a baking pan. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Normally my mom’s here to help run the inn. Right now I’m responsible for everything, plus I have other obligations like,” she stopped, almost as if she’d stopped herself from confessing something else, “the care center, things I have to do for my friend’s engagement party, and so on. Compared to you, my pressure must look abysmally small, but that doesn’t mean I’m not busy or without obligations. Everything isn’t about you, least of all the reasons behind my behavior.”
Once again, he’d been firmly put in his place. Based on her remarks, she thought he was an ego-driven athlete. In a town like this, she’d probably seen her fair share of those guys.
Heck, her own dad had walked out on her to pursue his dreams. That alone explained why she didn’t trust men. Why she chose to hole up in this inn, repressing every womanly part of herself rather than letting her hair down. “Guess it’s all been in my imagination, then.”
Emma measured the rum, poured it into the goopy mess of cake crumbles and icing, and started mixing. “All what?”
“The way that you’ve been avoiding me since I arrived.”
Emma’s hands went up in the air. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not avoiding you. I’m working, Wyatt.”
“Yet you have time to cozy up to Ryder.” Wyatt bit the inside of his cheek, embarrassed by the sulky tone of his voice.
Emma inhaled exactly the same way his mom had done when he was a teen and annoying her. She slid the tray of jimmies between them and started rolling the cake balls. Apparently she liked to keep busy, no matter what else was going on. “I’m not cozying up to Ryder. But you’ve got a purpose, with your big goals and obligations. Your brother, on the other hand, seems a little lost. My heart goes out to him. I think he might like to be something other than a planet in your orbit.”
Maybe she meant well, but like the baggage comment from earlier that morning, her explanation only set a fuse to his simmering temper.
“You make it sound like I’m some kind of dick that’s dragging him around to be my gofer. That’s not what’s going on. I’ve dedicated the past couple years of my life to his recovery and helping my mom. I asked him to be part of this film for his sake as much as mine.”