Page 149 of Wyatt
I’m the one to finally break the kiss. Falling back in my seat, I put on my seat belt. Wyatt presses a button on the dash, and the opening notes of “Yellow” by Coldplay fill the car.
I reach over to turn it up. “I love this song.”
“I know.”
“Where are we going?”
He puts the truck in drive. “You’ll see.”
I get a weird sense of déjà vu as Wyatt drives across the ranch. We’re heading to the river, I know that much.
He parks in our usual spot at the top of the bluff that overlooks the water. Above it, the sky is a kaleidoscope of colors—orange, neon coral, lavender, powder blue.
“I forgot what a perfect place this is to watch the sunset,” I say.
Wyatt reaches into the back seat and pulls out a six-pack of Cokes—glass bottles, naturally—and a fifth of Jack Daniel’s.
“Too cold to skinny-dip.” He pops the tops off a pair of bottles and takes a sip from one, then the other. “But figured we could get naked in the truck instead. Don’t worry, we’ll cuddle first.” He pats his lap.
The memory hits me—the afternoon I picked up Wyatt right after his parents died. I was listening to Coldplay that day. “Yellow,” if memory serves.
I blink, my eyes smarting. With the Cokes and the Coldplay and the Colorado River, is Wyatt re-creating that day?
He’s revisiting a moment that was both terrible and wonderful in equal measure.
He’s not afraid to go back there anymore.
My eyes flick to his neck. My heart thunders when I see that he’s not wearing his gold chain.
I don’t want to read too much into that. But Wyattalwayswears that thing, and the fact that he’s not today?—
Oh my God.
He pours a good amount of Jack Daniel’s into each of the Cokes and hands one to me.
“Cheers, Sunshine.” He holds out his Coke.
I absently touch my bottle to his. “Cheers, handsome.”
I sip. The sweetness of the Coke mingles with the fire of the Jack Daniel’s on my tongue.
Then a big old smile splits my face. Yeah, Wyatt is definitely re-creating that day.
“You get it then,” Wyatt says. “The song and the drinks…”
“I get it.” I look down at my Coke, then look up at him. “Cute.”
“Cute? That’s all I get?” he teases.
Careful not to spill my drink, I all but launch myself across the bench and climb into his lap, Sally Field inSmokey and the Bandit–style. Looping an arm around his neck, I pull him in for another kiss. “You know you’re gonna get more than that, cowboy.”
His eyes flash with heat. “I got a question to ask you first.”
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, like my heart isn’t in my throat and my thoughts aren’t a riot of hope. “Talk to me.”
“That day you picked me up, you said you’d be my sunshine anytime.” He searches my eyes. “What do you think about being my sunshine forever?”
I stare at him as the realization takes shape.