Chapter 13
I found his wine fridge, more than a little impressed that he had one, and selected a red I’d never heard of. The description on the back sounded good, so I opened it and searched for a glass.
Slowly.
But I wasn’t snooping.
Of course, Wyatt was neat and organized and I didn’t find anything remotely interesting in his cabinets.
What did I expect?
I was sipping the wine, with an empty glass waiting for him, when he walked back into the kitchen. His hair was still damp and tousled like he’d run his towel over it. His blue sweater somehow made his brown eyes richer.
Especially when they locked on me and blazed a fire between us. He walked toward me, clearly determined. He took the glass from my hand and set it on the counter before wrapping his hand around my neck and demandi
