Page 9 of Lycans & Lattes

I considered him for another long moment. Wyatt and I “hung out” all the time, but not in the evening when it was peak hours at Full Moon Bakery. Usually, we’d spend some early-morning time chatting before he went to bed for the day. Or if he woke up early in the afternoon, he’d come round before he started his shift. But this? This behavior was bizarre, even for him.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” I stepped out of the doorframe to allow him entry and led him out into the main seating area of the café.

“What’s all this?” He gestured to the piles of receipts and paperwork I’d left on the table.

“I’m updating the books. Taxes or whatever.”

“You must be riveted.” He attempted to sound like his normal, lighthearted self, but I could hear the added effort behind it.

I leaned against the table and folded my arms, watching him. “Oh yeah, nothing gets me hotter than math and inventory.”

Wyatt only grumbled a low, “Mm-hmm.” His eyes wandered around, hitting every corner in his sight line, effectively avoiding me.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here, or do I need to put you to work? I have about five hundred pounds of coffee beans in the back that need to be put in the storage closet.”

He perked up instantly. “You need help?”

I shook my head and laughed. “I threaten you with unpaid labor and you’d rather do that than just come out and tell me what you want? Typical man.”

“You can use me—I mean, no.” He tripped over another few words before straightening himself. “I just mean, if you need help, I’m here for you.”

I pursed my lips to keep from laughing.

“Fine.” He sighed, his shoulders falling along with his defenses. “I just wanted to come see you. It’s been a weird day, and you make it feel less . . .”

“Weird?” I supplied.

He nodded, then stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a finger down my forearm. “I’ll leave if you want me to. Or I can haul all those beans for you.”

“Are those my only options?” The words came out before I could stop them, and we both froze.

We held each other’s gazes, daring one another to pull away or worse—not.

The longer we stared, the more I felt my temperature rise. I couldn’t take this anymore. Everything unsaid between us was festering and rotting, ruining the first friendship I’d made here in Maple Hollow.

Wyatt’s chin dipped, but just as the realization that he was about to kiss me dawned, he spun away, putting two tables between us.

I shook my head, balling my hands in frustration. “I can’t keep doing this, Wyatt.”

He huffed out what sounded like a mix of frustration and feigned confusion. “Doing what?”

“This!” I waved between us, but he only paced the floor, making me want to pull my hair out. “If you don’t know what you want, if it’s just so damn hard to say it, if it’s not as easy as breathing, then I think you should go. I don’t want to be confused or feel like it’s somehow my misunderstanding.” I threw my hand toward the door. “Just leave. I don’t want to play these games anymore.”

It was like a dam had burst. I couldn’t deny it any longer: he was torturing me. He didn’t know what he wanted, and I didn’t want to be a part of the list of things he wasn’t sure about.

“Willow, please,” he lamented as I shoved him toward the back exit. He was a wall of muscle and didn’t budge for a second before stumbling backward of his own volition, as if trying to assist me in the shove.

“I’m just . . . tired,” I muttered, backpedaling like the coward I was.

Wyatt stared down at me with those puppy-dog eyes, and I wanted to combust. “Yeah, it’s late. I’m sure you need to get to bed.”

I wasn’t sleepy.

No, this was a bone-deep sort of exhaustion. I decided that if this was it, then fuck everything to hell; I’d just say it. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t have feelings for you.”

There it was, out of my mouth and into the world.

Just one heartbeat, one split-second decision, and my confession was unable to be taken back.