Say You Want Me(6)

by Corinne Michaels

“You don’t even know me,” Wyatt says as our noses almost touch. “You have no idea what I was doing.”

“I know what you weren’t doing.” I push back. “You weren’t being a gentleman.”

He smirks. “If I remember correctly, you don’t like gentlemen.”

“Maybe I like them after!”

He’s right. I liked him very much not being a gentleman while we were in bed together. What I didn’t like was waking up and finding him gone, as if he expected me to show myself out like I was some whore. The thought stops me for second. I don’t know . . . maybe I was. I did give it up pretty early. I guess the saying, “Why buy the cow when you get the milk for free,” is accurate. But that doesn’t mean I’m not pissed.

“You have some nerve.” I rip my arm out of his grasp.

“Why the hell are you so mad?”

This man is out of his mind. “You left me! I woke up to find you missing!” I can’t even believe this. “I waited for thirty minutes. Then it was clear that you left so I could see myself out. So I did. So much for Southern charm.”

“Women. Y’all are the most confusing creatures on the planet.” Wyatt gets close again and grabs my waist.

“You’re not any better! You chase me for almost two years, telling me how fantastic it was the last time and all the new things you want to do to me, but then you get it and you’re gone.” His hand stays where it is, even when I try to pull back, so I keep going. “And to top it off, you didn’t even bother trying to call or anything after. I mean, nothing.” My eyes narrow as I really get pissed. “Don’t even act like you couldn’t get my phone number, Wyatt Hennington. I just wasn’t worth it.”

“Honey.” He leans in closer.

“Don’t call me ‘honey’.”

“Darlin’.” He grins. “I work. Every single day.”

And this affects me how? “Whatever that means.” I cross my arms and wait for him to finish. I don’t know what working for Presley’s parents have anything to do with him leaving.

Wyatt ignores my snip and continues, “See, down here, the horses don’t give a shit if it’s Sunday. They need to eat. And since I work for the Townsend’s, I have to make sure the farm is taken care of. I didn’t leave you or want you to leave, but I wasn’t going to wake you at five in the morning . . . not unless it was for another round.”

I didn’t even think that maybe he was working. I assumed he was done with me, but I was apparently wrong, which bothers me. I don’t know why. Not that it matters, because that’s not what I care about anymore anyway.

“What does any of this even mean?” I ask the sky.

Wyatt touches my cheek. “It means I didn’t want you to leave, Angie Benson. It means I liked having you next to me. It means the next time you’re in my bed with your blonde hair on my pillow, you should stay there. It means I wanted you to stay.”

The connection between us is so strong that it terrifies me. I barely know this guy. He lives in Tennessee, and he rides a freaking horse. He’s the polar opposite of me in every way. Yet, the desire to kiss him is so great. I remind myself that he doesn’t know that because of the night in question, our lives will forever be tied. We created a life, and now both of ours are altered.

“Say something,” he urges.

I say the only thing that matters anymore. “I’m pregnant.”



“I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “You’re what?”

“I’m having your baby.” Why does it sound like she just had her dog run over?

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s why I’m freaking here! Congratulations, Dad.” She keeps talking, but I can’t hear anything.

She’s pregnant.

I’m going to have a kid.

I start to go through that night to see how the hell this could happen, but we were smart. Nothing happened that I know of. The condoms were fine. Yeah we went at it quite a bit that night, but I wasn’t even drunk.

This is wrong. I’m careful. Very fucking careful. It can’t be mine.

“Honey,” I say now that I’ve figured it out. Her eyes dart to mine. “I’m sorry to hear that you’re goin’ through this.” Her lips part as she sucks in a breath. “But it’s not my baby. I feel bad and all, but there’s no way it’s mine.”

“Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me?” Angie screams each word. “Not yours?” Her voice grows louder. “I haven’t had sex with anyone else! I’m nine weeks. Do the math, genius.”

I watch her foot tap as she waits.

“We used a condom.”

I can see the steam coming from her ears. “News flash! It didn’t work!”

“You’re absolutely positive?” I ask again. “I mean, it’s a hundred percent.”

“Yes, Wyatt. I’m one hundred percent pregnant.” She sighs and then adds, “With your baby,” as if to clarify one more time that I am, in fact, going to be a dad.


It’s possible, and I doubt she’d come all the way down here to trick me into something. It’s not like she likes me very much or thinks I’m this great guy. If she’s nine weeks, that’s exactly when she was here last time. It’s also safe to assume that my soon to be sister-in-law knows, and she wouldn’t lie—not about this.

“That’s what I’m saying. So, yeah . . . we’re having a baby. You’re the father.” Her eyes pierce through me. “So, now what?”

“Okay.” I start to pace as my mind gets ahold of the idea that it’s definitely my kid. “You’re pregnant. Right? I mean, it’s not ideal, but it’s not the end of the world. We’ll be fine.”

“Fine? How the hell is this fine?” Angie’s eyes start to water. “None of this is fine, Wyatt.”

My need to fix this kicks in. I’m a man. A man who can fix things. So, that’s what I’ll do. “I’ll tell you how. You’ll move here. We’ll get married. I’ll put an addition on the cabin, and then we’ll get things settled. You can always work for my brother. Then, I’ll go back in as an owner so we can—”