“Sure. No biggee.” Liar, her conscience screamed. Part of her wanted to rail at him for including her in such a stupid stunt. Then there was the portion of Natalie still humming with awareness and craving more of whatever Wyatt cared to offer—and that girl wanted to thank him.
Georgina, camera in hand, directed, “I need a few with just the godparents. Natalie, you hold Esther. Wyatt, put your arm around Nat—and for heaven’s sake, smile.”
Unbearable didn’t come close to describing the next five minutes. As much as Natalie had always viewed Wyatt as a fixture in her life, like a brother, she had to admit—if only to herself—he’d grown into one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. Tall and lanky with spiky black hair and impenetrable brown eyes, he was the dark horse to his fair-haired brothers and sister. He’d been the epitome of Weed Gulch High cool. Star quarterback for football. Pitcher for baseball. He’d changed girlfriends as often as clothes. Wiley Wyatt, he’d been nicknamed for his refusal to commit.
“Nat,” Josie Buckhorn called, “scoot closer to Wyatt. He’s not going to bite.” Natalie’s best friend, a petite redhead with freckles and a perpetual smile ever since marrying Dallas, gestured for Natalie to sidle up to Wyatt.
“I might. Bite, that is.” He aimed a wink toward his already miffed blonde date, which sent her stomping toward the open bar.
Natalie sighed. Wyatt’s action was perfect. Just the sort of thing needed to plant her feet solidly back on the ground. Their kiss might’ve been scorching, but it was also make-believe. And from a guy apparently every bit as commitment-phobic as Craig.
“Just a few more,” Georgina said, adjusting Esther’s bonnet, “and we ought to have enough.”
The baby started to fuss.
“You’re done,” Dallas growled at his mom and the high-priced Tulsa photographer. Taking the baby into his arms, he too headed for the bar.
Josie chased after him carrying their other daughter, Mabel.
Leaving Natalie on her own with her pal.
He cleared his throat, extending his hand for her to shake. “I really did appreciate your help. Sorry if our kiss got a little too, well…nice.”
“Apology accepted.” Nice wasn’t the word she’d have chosen for the hot tingles still coursing through her body from his touch. Now she wholeheartedly understood why women flocked to him. She’d just never counted herself as being among his groupies.
The afternoon wore on and on and on.
Around three, Natalie searched out Josie to say her goodbyes.
Unfortunately, her best friend wasn’t going to let her run out that easily. “Don’t even think about getting out of here before spilling every detail of that kiss.”
Josie held Esther. Judging by the baby’s fitful cries, the one-month-old didn’t realize that the party in full swing was in her honor. “Does this mean you and Wyatt have finally succumbed to your base urges to make out and then get married?” As usual, Josie made zero attempt to hide her desire for Natalie to hook up with Wyatt. She’d launched her campaign nearly two years earlier, when she’d married Dallas, and had yet to see the futility of her actions.
“Give it up,” Natalie said with a heartfelt sigh. “I know you mean well, but trust me, this bizarre dream of yours will never come true.”
“Then why’d you kiss him?” Josie winked.
“He kissed me. A sad tactic to unload his date just in time for all-night poker.” While most guests still mingled around the pool and Georgina Buckhorn’s renowned garden, Wyatt and his posse—the same guys he’d hung out with through high school and college—could be seen through the den’s picture window setting up for the game. They played during or after most of Georgina’s parties; just because this was a christening made no difference to their routine.
“Still,” Josie said, “it looked hot. Was it?”
Lie! Natalie’s voice of reason screamed. If she showed the smallest chink in her Anti-Wyatt Wall, Josie would use it to her advantage. Shrugging, Natalie said, “I’ve had better.”
Josie rolled her eyes. “Mark my words, one of these days you two will discover each other, and when you do—pow!” In the process of waving her arm, she startled the baby into a full-blown wail. “Oops. Shh…” Jiggle, jiggle. “Sorry, sweetie. Mommy didn’t mean to scare you. She was just trying to make Auntie Nat see how much she secretly adores Uncle Wyatt.”
“On that note…” Natalie kissed the crown of Esther’s downy head. “I’m exhausted, but still have a few baskets to make for school tomorrow.”
“Excuses, excuses.” Josie’s expression said she wasn’t buying Natalie’s exit speech. “See you in the morning.”
“Looking forward to it— Oh, and if you get a sec after the festivities, would you mind rounding up any clothes Betsy and Bonnie have outgrown? I’ve got a few families in desperate need.”
“Absolutely,” Josie said, ambushing Natalie in a hug. “Thanks again for coming—and agreeing to be this one’s godmother. It means the world to Dallas and me.”
Natalie was Weed Gulch Elementary’s counselor, where Josie taught kindergarten. Though it wasn’t in her official job description, Natalie made care baskets she delivered anonymously to community families. Usually, she looked forward to organizing donated goods into utilitarian gifts, but as she climbed into her white VW bug all she truly wanted to do—aside from reliving Wyatt’s criminally hot kiss—was take a nice, long nap.
“SINCEWHENAREYOU macking on Fatty Natty?”
Wyatt lowered his cards, giving his old pal Owen Fletcher a glare. “Lay off. Since Dallas married Josie, Nat’s practically family, and I’d appreciate you treating her as such.”
“Touchy,” Owen said, getting up from the table for another beer. “This something we should know about?”
“Yeah,” West Graham piped in, “what happened to the blonde you had hanging all over you less than an hour ago?”
Wyatt shrugged. “Starla was starting to get too serious.”
Owen, a hulking former Weed Gulch and then University of Oklahoma offensive lineman, opened his beer. “Yeah, but you could have had a lot of fun with her on the way to full-on serious.”
“Well, I didn’t feel like having fun with her anymore,” Wyatt grumbled. “Are we here to play or what?”
Owen’s eyes widened. “All right, man. Jeez, what’s wrong with a little fun, is all I’m saying.”
“I don’t know.” In truth, Wyatt did know, but he wasn’t about to spill the secret he hadn’t even shared with his brothers. He tossed chips into the center pot. “I’m in and raise you five.”
West, one of Weed Gulch’s finest fullbacks, tossed in his chips, as well. “Sounds like someone’s trying to change the subject.”
“Not at all.”
