Page 103 of Wyatt

“Mission accomplished?”

She’s biting her lip again. “Mission accomplished.”

“So…I did a thing.” I switch hands on the wheel so I can put my right one on Sally’s thigh. “Many things, in fact.”

“Can I be that thing?”

“Of course you’re going to be that thing. But I did other things for us to enjoy before that.”

“Like?”

I smirk. “You’ll see.”

CHAPTER 22

Sally

WILD CARD

Wyatt opensthe front door of his house and holds out his arm. “After you.”

I step inside and am immediately inundated by a magazine-worthy spread of cozy deliciousness. Or would it be delicious coziness?

Either way, I never, ever want to leave.

The house is small but beautifully proportioned—think thirteen-foot ceilings, hand-carved millwork, and big windows that let in tons of light.

But it’s the tiny, beautifully decorated table in the kitchen to my right that has my heart doing a hundred backflips. The table is covered in a checkered tablecloth, and it’s set with real china and a pair of candles. There’s a charcuterie board on the countertop, alongside a big salad bowl that’s filled with crisp-looking greens topped with what appear to be chunks of roasted butternut squash.

The oven hums. The savory smell of roasting meat fills the air. There’s something oddly familiar about it.

Coldplay is on. A bottle of wine and two fancy-looking wineglasses are set out beside the sink.

Despite the massive amount of preparation that obviouslyhappened in the kitchen, the space is spotless. So is the living room that the kitchen opens up to. It’s dominated by a huge fireplace, which is filled with wood.

I cover my mouth with my hand. I literally don’t know what to say. What to do.

This is all so perfect, so romantic, I want to cry. I’ve been here a handful of times since Wyatt moved in, but he’s never had it set up likethis.

“Wy,” I say weakly.

Setting my bag on a nearby console table, Wyatt slips his fingers inside my coat. “You like it?”

“How did you—where did you—the time—and the salad—the wine—do you even like wine?—”

“I do actually.” He presses a scruffy kiss to my nape as he pulls off my coat. “I’ve been thinkin’ about this night all week. And thinkin’ about this night had me thinkin’ of you, which of course got me all hard and shit. My dick literally wouldn’t let me sleep. So figured I’d make good use of the time.”

I get this feeling in my chest. I can only describe it as a best-day-of-your-life feeling—so full of joy, of tenderness, that I’m about to burst.

Have I ever felt more special in my life?

Have I ever felt more seen?

This isn’t some half-assed date, thrown together at the last minute. This took thought. Planning. A serious amount of effort.

The kind of effort you make for the people you love. Notlike. Not people you have casual, kinda-sorta dig-you feelings for.

I feel weak in my knees.