Waiting for Wyatt (Red Dirt #1) (7 page)

“I’m getting dressed.” The answer came out muffled as I pulled a white tank top over my lacy bra. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Where are you going? You don’t have to work today.”

Tugging at the bottom of the shirt, I situated the hem over my shorts. “I’m aware of my work schedule. You don’t need to remind me. I’m just going to run an errand this afternoon.”

“It’s Thursday, which is dinner with Mom and Dad tonight. You have to be here to pick me up on time this week. You know I don’t like being late.”

“You know Mom doesn’t care if we are late as long as she sees us. But I’ll leave earlier this time so you don’t have a panic attack.” My sister was rigid with her schedule to the point of almost being creepy.

“Leave earlier from where?”

“Just some stuff I’ve got to do.” I shrugged, not wanting to start one of her interrogation conversations.

“You’re gonna see
him
again.” Her sarcastic drawl pulled on the word. “That’s why you are wearing that shirt.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this shirt. It’s a normal shirt I bought at Old Navy.” If only Blaire were normal, we could swap items and only buy half the amount of clothes, which would save money.

“Doesn’t it scare you, Emma? You know nothing about him and he lives in the middle of nowhere. He could have bodies out there. And that shirt. I don’t know. It says stab me.”

“Stop being dramatic. Wyatt isn’t a serial killer and this isn’t a stab-me shirt. It’s just a white tank top. It’s not even that tight.” I rolled my eyes, pulling the sides out a bit. “See? There’s lots of space.”

“Stop joking. You really don’t know anything about him. You don’t know what he is or isn’t.”

Her words did have a slight truth to them. But over the last week, Wyatt had become a borderline obsession in my mind. Instead of focusing on myself, I had daydreamed about all the different scenarios that had turned him into the broken guy who hid behind the curtains.

My sister didn’t need to know this bit of information, even though I was pretty sure Blaire could feel it from me. I went over to where she stood in the doorway, placing a hand on each of her shoulders. “I promise. I know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t think you actually do,” she spat. Blaire had this natural gift to turn everything into some catastrophic event. “You are always so busy being nice to everyone in the world that you don’t see people for who they really are.”

She was right about this little fact, but I couldn’t turn away at this point. I wanted to help him. I wanted to figure out what forced Wyatt into this life of solitude. He wasn’t any better off than one of his dogs. I knew that now. He was like Cye, hurting in the corner, hiding from the world, hoping nobody took notice.

“Blaire, he’s fine. Wyatt is just a very complicated guy who is maybe a little misunderstood. He likes his space. That’s all.” I smiled to myself. Now I sounded like Wyatt.

“Complicated. Misunderstood. Hides in the woods. Sounds like an unsub profile.”

“I told you to stop watching that show. It gives you too many ideas.” Blaire was obsessed with
Criminal Minds.
Last year, she was convinced our mailman was an
unsub
of some investigation by the FBI because of a scar across his right cheek. She said it was the kind placed when a person violated gang rules. Blaire seemed to forget we lived in Stillwater,
Oklahoma
.

I walked over to the dresser and applied a layer of summer pink lipstick. I dabbed a tissue to remove the excess and then smiled at my sister. “How do I look?”

“The neckline of your sexy shirt gives just enough space for Wyatt to slide his fingers around your throat.”

“Stop worrying so much. And I thought this was a slash-me shirt. Not a strangle-me one.”

“Emma . . . don’t joke about this shit.”

“Don’t have a panic attack.” I grabbed her for a quick hug. Tightening my grip, I waited for her to squeal, but she just stood there in the doorway.

“I want to meet him sometime.”

“Twins buried alive.” I joked, trying to lighten her mood. “You think they will send the
Criminal Minds
team? Or the CSI team? Or maybe both? And the FBI? Definitely the FBI.”

“I’m serious. I want to meet him.” Blaire pushed herself out of my arms.

“Okay. Just not today. It would be better not to spring it on him. I don’t think he would like a surprise.”

“You’re not helping yourself right now.”

Ignoring her flippant remark, I grabbed my keys. “Want me to drop you off at the library so you don’t have to ride your bike?”

“Sure. Just don’t forget to pick me up.” Her eyes squinted, causing the glasses to slip a bit on her nose. Absently, she pushed them back up with her finger.

“It was one time, Blaire. And if you drove, stuff like that wouldn’t happen.”

“I don’t need to drive.”

“Come on. The car is half yours too.”

“I ride in my half of it all the time.”

“You are graduating in less than a year. What are you going to do? I can’t drive you around forever.” I opened the apartment door, holding it wide as she came out behind me with the giant backpack. It must be awful to try to balance that thing on her bicycle.

“I’m not discussing this shit today.”

“We have to at some point. I could teach you. And you would get used to it. I promise.”

“I’m not letting someone with four speeding tickets teach me how to use a car. You are a terrible driver.”

“I drive perfectly fine.” As we reached the bottom of the steps, I glanced over to the manager’s office. Kurt stood in the doorway with crossed arms. His eyes followed both of us as we walked to the car.

“I think he’s hiding something,” she whispered. “He fits the profile.”

“If you don’t stop watching
Criminal Minds
, I’m going to cancel the cable.” I opened my car door, feeling his stare on my backside. The vile feeling returned in the pit of my stomach. Blaire might be half right this time.

I
DROPPED MY SISTER OFF
at the library and then stopped at Sonic Drive-In. I got two large Cherry Cokes. Hopefully, the ice wouldn’t melt before I got out to the kennel.

I pulled up close to the trailer. I didn’t see Wyatt anywhere outside. He didn’t know my schedule of dropping by each time, but the long pasture driveway had always given him plenty of notice to dodge inside his home.

I walked up the trailer steps with both Cherry Cokes. Balancing one against my chest, I knocked on the door. I knocked hard and loud five times, then waited. It was an old trailer. Paint flecked on the plastic shutters that outlined each window. I think they were red at one point, but the sun had faded them to a pink color. The tan siding was in the same shape.

I beat my fist against the door for a second time. The cheap aluminum rattled in the frame. I reached forward with my fist again, but the door opened, showing his familiar, hard face.

“I brought you a drink. It’s Cherry Coke.” I held out the cup for him to take from my hand.

Wyatt watched me with an odd expression. His T-shirt choice of the day appeared to be white again. And well, Wyatt’s hair only did one thing. The short pieces fell all natural on top of his head.

I bet his hair would feel soft if I touched it. I bet it would brush across my skin, making my neck feel tingly. I bet those soft lips would feel nice too. Except they smashed down into that thin line again as he stared at the Styrofoam cup. I shook the drink in his direction.

“Are you going to take it or what?”

He clasped the cup in his hand, brushing my fingers as I let go. A jolt shot up through my arm from the contact. I took a drink of mine, watching his bewildered expression. My peace offering caused a bit of confusion. Wyatt hesitated, looking at the red straw and then back at me.

I rolled my eyes. “Of course you hate Cherry Coke. I took a guess and I thought everyone likes cherry.”

“I like cherry,” he muttered in his raspy voice.

“Then what are you doing? It doesn’t mean anything. I was just being nice. You know, a thank-you for letting me come back out here.”

“Oh. Thank you, Emma.” And then he smiled.
A real one.
The first real one ever tossed in my direction. His pink lips stretched out with a flash of white teeth. The dimples fell right into place.

I froze. Wyatt Caulfield was incredibly good-looking when he allowed his face to open up and be seen by the world. So breathtaking and mysterious with the sadness still engrained in the creases around his eyes. He put the straw between those perfect lips. A look passed over his face. One of deep intensity and I think, pleasure? I felt like I was invading a private moment.

“Do you want me to leave you alone with that?” I laughed and took another drink of mine. My chest fluttered a little, watching him swallow.

“I was just thirsty. It’s been a while since—never mind.” He smiled faintly. The dimples came and went again, but not my attraction. It came in small tugs, pulling me to the damaged person who was hiding behind the frowns and broken smiles, pulling me closer and filling my head full of questions, filling my body with feelings that I pretended didn’t exist.

He took another drink and eyed me cautiously from the doorway. I looked past his wide shoulders to the secrets hidden inside the trailer. I didn’t expect to be invited in when I’d originally knocked on the door. But now, I was so close. I wanted to see inside the cave of the bear.
Great!
Now I was daydreaming about going inside his house. I needed to get out of here before I did something stupid to ruin my progress.

“Well, I’m going to see Charlie.” I turned to walk away. The door clicked shut, but his boots pounded down the steps. I smiled to myself. My idea of bringing him something nice seemed to work. I got him out of the trailer.

I walked toward the kennel, feeling his presence just a few feet behind me. I was curious. Did he watch me as I was walking? He knew I couldn’t see him. Glancing over my shoulder, his face betrayed nothing.

Once inside, I went straight to Cye. He stayed in that pathetic, hunkered-down pose in the far back corner. My heart lurched every time I looked at him. I felt angry, so very angry at the evil person who had done this to him. Only a monster would beat a dog with a hammer. A horrible, evil monster that should be locked in a cell with another evil monster that was conveniently slipped a hammer.

On my last two trips to the kennel, I brought something special for Cye. I’d put a little bone inside by the gate before I took Charlie out to the play area. When I came back, it was always gone. The ghost dog did venture out more than just at night. I had a plan for Mr. Cye too. By the end of summer, he would let me pet him. Slowly. I would have to use patience. I would have to wait until he was ready.

I opened the gate, crawling on my hands and knees inside the kennel. I placed his bone on the cement, a little closer than last time.

“It’s not gonna work.” I heard the raspy, deep voice and looked over my shoulder, seeing Wyatt leaned back against the gate on the other side. He watched me crawl backward out of the pen. He seemed slightly amused too. That was a new one.

“We will see.” I smiled at him.

“You don’t think I haven’t tried that one?”

I blew a blonde curl out of my eye as I stood up to face him. “Maybe he’ll take better to a girl.”

“Maybe.” He closed those puckered lips around the straw. Wyatt got that look again as he took another swig. I never thought a guy drinking a Coke would constitute as something sexy, but I grew mesmerized by the way he sucked on the straw. I shook off the feeling before turning around to the next pen. I stopped dead in my tracks.

“What? Where’s Chewy?” I spat it out. Terrible thoughts flashed through my head with all the horrible images I’d imagined since visiting this place. “What happened to him, Wyatt?”

“Calm down. Nothing bad. Diana got him yesterday. She found a home for him.”

“So he’s, like, just gone? I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“It doesn’t always work like that here, Emma.” His faced softened a little.

“Where’d he go?”

“Retired military guy. He lost a leg in Iraq. The scars on Chewy didn’t bother him.” He came over next to me. “That’s Daisy and Gatsby.”