Page 39 of Wild Sanctuary

He holds up his palm and rushes on. “I’ve cleared this weekend to fly out to see you. We’ll talk and fix this, babe.”

My stomach almost falls out my butt, and I shake my head frantically. “Felix, no. I’m working, and besides, you flying out here doesn’t fix anything.”

“It fixes us.” He flashes his brightest smile. “You miss me. You won’t admit it, but I know you do.”

I barely manage to stifle an eye roll when I catch Wyatt leaving the bar, his long stride carrying him toward the exit.

His eyes find me immediately. Take in the phone propped against my coffee cup, Felix’s face filling the screen, the conversation I’m clearly in the middle of.

“—take you to a nice hotel.” His voice drops, and his smile gets that lazy edge I used to find charming. “You can wear that red dress for me. You know the one.” He winks, innuendo dripping from his voice. “It wrecks me every time, babe.”

Heat floods my cheeks. I’m acutely aware that Wyatt has gone utterly still at the counter. He doesn’t turn around, but there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s heard.

I clench my jaw, barely holding it together as I grit, “Felix, what⁠—”

“Love you, babe.” Felix winks, completely oblivious to the rage that’s flowing through me. “Call me later.”

The screen goes dark before I can respond.

I set the phone face down carefully as my face continues to burn. Wyatt’s gaze meets mine for a second, just long enough that I can see his green eyes darken slightly.

“Marcus is ready for you.” His voice is completely flat. “In the bar.”

“Great. Thanks.”

I gather my things, hyperaware of the way his gaze is fixed on some point over my shoulder, his spine rigid.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Fine.”

He turns to go just as Shelby steps into his path, coffee pot in hand like she just happened to be passing through.

“Sneaking out without saying hi?” She tilts her head with a bright smile. “I’m offended, Hartley.”

And Wyatt—closed-off, stone-faced, hasn’t-cracked-a-smile-in-a-week Wyatt—actually smiles back.

It’s small. Just a slight curve of his mouth, a softening around his eyes. But it’s there.

“Hey, Shelby.” His voice is warmer than I’ve heard it all day. “How’ve you been?”

I stand there, laptop bag half on my shoulder, watching them chat like I’ve suddenly become invisible.

So he can smile.

He just doesn’t want to smile at me.

I don’t know why that bothers me so much. It shouldn’t bother me at all. The man’s allowed to be friendly with whoever he wants. We’re barely even friends.

“I should—” I gesture toward the bar. “Marcus is waiting.”

Wyatt nods without turning around. “Mm.”

I walk toward the bar, Shelby’s bright laugh following me all the way as I remind myself that I came here for answers. That’s all.

The ache in my chest when he smiled at her says otherwise.

And that’s a problem I wasn’t planning on having.