“Luke was torn up about Zoe, wasn’t he?”
Wyatt shrugged. “Man code.”
She grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Take it however you need to, darlin’.”
“I guess it’s probably good you were here then.”
“Tell my head that in the morning.”
“Is it bad?”
A mischievous smile spread over his face. “Might have a concussion.”
She regarded him with caution. “A concussion.”
“Yeah, the kind that needs someone to keep me awake all night.”
“Holy . . . you did not just say that.”
He laughed and opened the door. “C’mon, give me a hand with Luke’s bike.”
She followed him out in the cool night, let the headlights of Miss Gina’s van light the parking lot.
Wyatt removed a ladder from the side of his truck and used it as a ramp for Luke’s motorcycle.
Melanie helped with the straps to keep it in place before Wyatt closed the tailgate. “That should do it.”
She wiped the dust from her hands. “You’re okay from here?” she asked.
Wyatt leaned against his truck and crooked his finger his way. “C’mere.”
She took a step closer, felt the energy change between them. When she was close enough, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks for coming.”
“Jo’s my best friend,” she offered.
His grin spread. “Right.”
Melanie leaned her head into the palm of his hand that lingered on her face. When he stepped closer, she met him halfway and lifted on her toes to reach his kiss.
Who knew the swelling in her belly could explode with such a simple touch. But Wyatt’s kiss unleashed a crash of feeling she couldn’t describe. With a moan, she closed her eyes and pressed her tongue against the edge of his lips.
Wyatt opened for her and took control. He spread his hands along her back and pulled her flush against his body. From knees to lips, he was everywhere. His hands took their time caressing her waist before finding the edges of her breasts.
Her knees buckled and Wyatt turned and sandwiched her between him and the truck. The hardness of him pressed against her stomach, giving all the evidence she needed of her effect on him. And she liked it. Only when she filled her palm with the globe of his firm butt did Wyatt pull away from her lips with a groan. “Come home with me,” he whispered.
She wanted to . . .
“The inn has guests. Hope . . . Miss Gina.”
Wyatt leaned his forehead against hers and winced.
“Poor baby,” she said, giggling.
For a moment he just held her and didn’t attempt to kiss her again.
“We should probably go.”
He gave one more lingering kiss before releasing his hold.
With weak knees and a speeding heart, Melanie slid behind the wheel of the van and let Wyatt close the door behind her.
“Thanks again,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
He tapped the side of the van as she drove away.
“I suddenly don’t feel so bad.” Wyatt took one look at Luke and winced. Purple was the predominant color of his face with a bright bluish-red spot on the left of his head. If you didn’t know Luke, you might not catch the extent of swelling, but you’d definitely know he didn’t look right.
“I can’t tell how much of this is hangover or broken crap underneath.”
The hour rounded on noon, removing some of the hangover time Luke suggested.
R&B’s would normally hold a handful of people at this hour but today held only a small crew destined to serve their community service for a night of crime. At least that was how Wyatt painted the picture in his brain.
“There you are.” Josie walked from the bar, hands on hips, attitude in her stride. “I thought I was going to have to call Jo.”
While Josie’s words were stern, her smile was anything but.
“Cut the crap, Josie,” Luke told her as he made his way up the steps to the bar and pulled her into a half hug.
“You look like someone drug you behind their truck on a rope for a good ten miles.”
“That’s about how I feel.”
Josie nudged his hip with her own. “I probably should have cut you off.”
“I doubt that would have helped,” Wyatt said. “The place was charged last night.”
Josie had her long brown hair twisted into a braid. Her jean shorts shouldn’t look as good as they did on a woman in her midforties, but Wyatt had to admit, they did. “Matt’s inside cleaning up.”
“I’m going to make a run to the Eugene hardware store when I leave here. Try and get you back up and running by tomorrow night.”
Luke was already inside, Wyatt right behind him.
Matt stood in the center of the room with a broom. Some of the tables that still had all their legs had been placed to rights. Those that couldn’t be salvaged were still where last night’s fight had left them. A big pile of glass had been mounded up on the floor, the smell of stale beer more pungent than on any given Saturday night.
Luke let out a long-winded whistle. “I didn’t remember it being this bad.”