Then Came You

Twenty-eight

Emily woke up in the predawn to a grumpy Q-Tip on her chest and her phone buzzing. Since she’d fallen asleep what felt like only a few minutes ago, she was groggy as hell, but one thing was obvious.

Wyatt was gone . . .

Her heart clenched painfully as she reached for her phone. “’Lo,” she answered without looking at the screen. “Who died?”

“Don’t get mad,” Sara said. “But I let Woodrow out the back door and he took off on me.”

Emily tossed off her covers and sat up. “Took off? He never takes off.”

“Exactly, but he did, and I didn’t have my shoes on so I couldn’t run after him. I thought he’d just go out and do his business and come back. Should have known better, men never do what they’re supposed to. It’s why I’m gay.”

“Where’s Woodrow now?”

“No friggin’ clue. By the time I got my shoes on and made it outside, he was gone. I’ve got to get to work. Can you send Wyatt out to help me?”

“Wyatt’s gone,” Emily said, reaching out with a hand to touch the indentation on the pillow where his head had been.

“Why?” Sara asked.

“Because we’re not a thing. He was here last night just to make sure I was okay.”

“Bullshit. You messed this up by running chicken.”

Emily sighed. “I simply moved up a situation that was going to happen anyway.”

“If this is the part where you tell me how many days are left, I’m never going to cook for you again.”

Emily stared up at the ceiling. “Go to work, Sara, I’ll get Woodrow.” She disconnected and pulled on the first item of clothing she came to, which was a pair of sweats she’d stolen from Wyatt. They dwarfed her, but they’d keep her warm in the morning chill. She shoved her feet into sneakers, grabbed a jacket, and took off out the back door. “Woodrow!” she yelled.

Nothing.

She followed the route they always walked in the mornings, calling his name as she went, getting more concerned when she got no response.

Woodrow wasn’t a lone alpha type, he didn’t like to be alone.

A minute later she heard a bark coming from the one direction she really didn’t want to go—Big, Scary Neighbor Guy’s house.

Once again the ranch-style house was dark. And thankfully, there was no truck in the driveway. Emily pulled out her phone and called Sara. “I think he’s at Big, Scary Neighbor Guy’s house.”

“Don’t go in!”

“No kidding! I don’t think anyone’s home—”

Another bark. Definitely Woodrow.

“I heard that!” Sara said. “Sounds like him.”

“I’m calling Wyatt for backup.” Emily ended Sam’s call and tried Wyatt’s cell. When he answered, she told him what was going on.

“Go home,” he immediately said. “I’ll be right there.”

“But—”

But nothing, he’d ended the call. She shoved the phone in her pocket and turned to go home—and then heard a fierce bark.

Woodrow.

Heart in her throat, she eyed the house. Still dark. Still no sign of life. She walked around the back, where she found three pens, no animals in any of them. There was also a barn and a shed, both open. From the barn came noises that were all too familiar—the yipping and barking and howling she’d sometimes heard late at night.

“Hello?” she called out. She wasn’t anxious to run into anyone, nor did she want to be caught trespassing. With no one in sight, she poked her head in the barn and froze.

It wasn’t filled with what she’d expected, which would have been horses and the equipment that went along with said horses. Pens lined both long walls. Dog pens filled with dogs of all shapes and sizes. In the center of the barn was an arena, like a fighting pen. “Oh, God,” she said and quickly searched the locked pens for Woodrow.

He wasn’t here.

She stepped back into the sunlight and heard his bark coming from behind her. His bark was immediately followed by a growl.

And then another.

She ran over to the shed and peeked in to find Woodrow huddled, cornered by two dogs, who were showing their teeth. “Hey,” she yelled. “Back off!”

They turned to her, and when they did, Woodrow scurried around them, getting right in front of Emily. After that first night when he’d growled at Wyatt, she’d never seen him show an ounce of aggression, but he showed it now. His fur stood up along the length of his neck and back, and he was in a fighting stance.

Her heart went to her throat. He was healing, but there was no way he’d win a fight with these two. “Okay,” she said softly. “Let’s everyone just take a nice, deep breath and—”

“What the fuck.”

She craned her neck, and oh shit, felt a new wave of panic. Mr. Big, Scary Neighbor Guy was back, a big shadow standing in the doorway blocking her exit.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “My dog trespassed, but your dogs cornered him—” She broke off when he didn’t move, didn’t do anything but just stare at her.

She bent and scooped up Woodrow. “We’ll just go now.”

Not even an eye flicker.

“I don’t care what you’re doing out here,” she said. A big fat lie, of course. She cared to her bones, but she thought keeping that a secret until she got the police out here was a real good idea. “If you could just move aside,” she said.

He did, slowly, and she slid out of the shed.

He followed, right on her heels, and suddenly it wasn’t just Woodrow whose hackles rose. Every hair on her body stood up. She whirled around just as he was reaching for her. Heart in her throat, she danced back and yanked out her phone. “I’m going to call the police.”

“No need. I’m right here.”

Again she whirled and faced a man who’d stepped out from behind from the barn.

Evan.

“Dr. Pretty,” he said.

She stared at him as he moved closer. Uh-oh. This wasn’t good. “We were just leaving,” she said, squeezing Woodrow close.

“You shouldn’t have been here in the first place,” Big, Scary Neighbor Guy growled, and took another step toward her.

“Bud,” Evan said, his voice a low warning.

Bud stopped, and though his big, beefy arms hung loose at his sides, his fists clenched.

Evan looked at Emily. “You were asked to stay away,” he said conversationally, still smiling a little bit, which she tried like hell to take as a good sign.

“I tried,” she said. “Believe me. But I’m going now, and I’ll stay away this time. Really. I promise.”

“You promise,” he repeated, sounding amused.

She nodded like a bobble head. “Yes.”

“I don’t believe you,” Evan said. “You’re curious as hell. And you’re smart. You know what we’re doing here.”

“Killing dogs.”

“No,” he said. “Making big bucks.”

“It’s a felony to have dog fights,” she said. “To gamble on dogs fights. To have spectators watching the dog fights.”

“Actually, that part’s only a misdemeanor,” he said, still laid back and casual-like.

“Fascinating,” she said. “Well . . . I really should be going now.” She took a step, and Bud took another toward her. Woodrow growled, leapt out of her arms, and lunged at Bud.

“No!” Emily cried when he pulled his gun. “No, don’t shoot him—”

A sharp whistle pierced the air. Emily glanced up and saw with shock and horror Wyatt coming around the back of the house.

Unarmed.

At his whistle, Woodrow sat on the spot, but he kept his sharp gaze on Bud.

So did Wyatt. “Emily,” he said. “Come here.”

She didn’t hesitate, she ran to him. He grabbed her hand when she got close and pulled her in, gaze never wavering off the two men in front of them. He lifted his cell phone to his ear. “Got her,” he said. “In the back.”

Evan pulled his gun and pointed it at Bud. “Drop your weapon.”

Bud stared at him. “What the fuck, dude?”

“Drop it, now.”

Bud’s mouth fell open. “You fucker. You think you’re going to double-cross me?”

Kel and a handful of others suddenly swarmed the yard, and in less than twenty seconds, Bud had been forced to his belly in the dirt, hands behind his head.

Evan and Kel were in a standoff.

“Be smart,” Kel said. “Down on the ground.”

“I’m not the bad guy here,” Evan said, not moving. “I was working undercover, trying to—”

“Bullshit!” Bud yelled, lifting his face out of the dirt. “This is your operation!”

“Shut up,” Evan told him.

“Hell no, I’m not taking the fall for this—”

“Evan,” Kel said. “One last warning. Drop your weapon.”

He hesitated, and Woodrow—who’d run to Wyatt and Emily and was sitting on her foot—growled low in his throat.

Evan’s gaze went to the dog, and in that split second Kel grabbed Evan’s gun. The other cops moved in close and took him down to the ground.

Emily dropped to her knees and hugged Woodrow to her chest. “Good boy,” she said, and he licked her chin.

Wyatt hauled her upright, gave her a quick once-over. “You okay?” he asked, voice low but utter steel.

Not trusting her voice, she nodded.

“No one touched you?”

“No. I’m fine—” That was the last word she got out before he crushed her to him. She pressed her face into his shirt, and breathed him in. He was warm and strong, and she burrowed in and held on, wanting nothing more than to never let go.

It was two long hours later before the questioning and sorting of the law was handled, and Emily was free to go. Five men had been arrested, fifteen dogs had been rescued, and Lilah and her team were handling the dog removal and treatment.

The adrenaline had let down and Emily was still shaking.

Wyatt was waiting for her, silent, tense. He drove her home without a word, and when they walked into the living room, they came to a shocked halt.

Sara sat on the couch, staring in stunned disbelief at Rayna, the gorgeous blonde kneeling at her feet holding out a ring.

A diamond ring.

“Oh my God,” Emily whispered.

“I know,” Sara said huskily, her eyes shimmering with tears and never leaving Rayna’s face. “She just showed up,” she said to Emily. “She’s asked me to forgive her, to marry her.”

“Neither of which you’ve answered,” Rayna said softly.

Sara finally looked up at Emily, hope and love and joy all over her face. “I— You found Woodrow!”

Emily choked out a laugh. “Yes. Long story. Let’s concentrate on you for a moment.”

Sara sucked in a breath. “What do I do?” she whispered, as if Wyatt and Rayna weren’t right there.

“A ten belongs with a ten,” Emily told her. “And you’re a ten.”

Sara’s eyes filled. “You sure?”

“Very. Follow your heart, Sara. Like Mom always said, a heart’s never wrong.”

Sara took the ring from Rayna and slipped it on her finger. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll marry you.”

Rayna stood up, hauled Sara off the couch and spun them both in a circle.

“We need to celebrate,” Sara said. “At the lake.”

They were gone almost without a backward glance.

Emily closed her eyes. She needed Wyatt’s arms around her, needed him to hold her tight. Needed him to love her. Eyes still closed, she gave him the answer she should have given him the night before. “We’ve never had sex in this house because we’ve only made love here.”

Before the words were out of her mouth, she was hauled in and crushed against his chest. His mouth took hers, hard. Hot. Deep.

“Wyatt—” she gasped.

“Not a good time to talk,” he said, his hands all over her.

“But—”

He wrestled her down the hall and to her room, where he tore the sweats off her body. He took a nipple in his mouth, and the sudden, moist heat make her jerk. She arched up against him, seeking more.

“It’s important,” she said. A lie. She couldn’t remember what she’d wanted to say at all. “I—”

“Should have mentioned it before you got naked.”

“You got me naked—” She broke off with a moan when he took her down to her bed and his mouth latched on to her other breast, sucking hard before nipping it gently with his teeth and then soothing it with a kiss.

Her eyes rolled back in her head. “Wyatt.”

He flashed her a tight but wicked smile, and then his mouth traveled southbound. With no clothing to slow him down, all she could do was writhe against him as heat seared through her body.

He wrapped her inner thighs around his ears and sent her skittering with his tongue.

As she came back to awareness, he was kissing his way back up her body. She needed him with a shocking desperation that scared her. She was beginning to think that no matter how much he gave her, it wasn’t going to be enough. It wouldn’t be enough until she was his, body, heart, and soul.

Terrifying.

He put on a condom and pushed into her with one hard thrust that almost sent her over yet again. So did the slow, purposeful, knowing thrusts designed to take her to the very edge. She already knew he could hold her off for as long as suited him, drawing out her pleasure until she was mindless for release. “Don’t stop,” she begged. “Please, Wyatt, don’t stop.”

“Never.”

Thank God, because this, with him. It was her air. It was her everything . . .

He broke from her lips, fisted his hands in her hair and locked his eyes on hers. She nearly came from the intensity of his expression, she was that close. He was, too, she realized, feeling him quiver against her with the effort it was taking to hold them both off. “Emily,” he said, that was it, just her name, and she clenched hard around him, going off like a bottle rocket. She took him right along with her, the sound of his release refueling hers.

When she opened her eyes, he hadn’t budged, his weight still holding her pinned to the bed, his heart thundering against hers. She loved that, feeling him breathing hard, knowing he was completely wrecked and that she’d done it. One of her legs was bent, her foot on the mattress, the inside of her thigh still tight to his hip. Her other leg was still wrapped around him, as were her arms, her hands gliding along his sleek, sweat-dampened skin. As the rest of her senses slowly returned, she wished for him to lift his head, meet her gaze, and say one word.

Stay.

His face was buried in her neck, his mouth brushing her skin softly. It felt sweet, and yet sexy. An affectionate just-had-an-earth-shattering-orgasm nuzzle.

“Was that good-bye?” she asked.

“I was thinking it was more of a ‘damn I’m glad you’re not full of bullet holes,’ ” he said.

Or that . . .

His arms tightened on her, and she felt a surge of hope, but before that emotion could settle, he looked at the three boxes along the wall, boxes she’d packed with her stuff. “I guess it is a good-bye of sorts,” he said, and she stopped breathing.

Just stopped.

“You’ll come visit,” he said. “Your sister’s here.”

So are you, she thought.

“And I get to L.A. occasionally,” he said. “And there’s always vet conferences.”

Ouch. Yeah, this was good-bye.

His back to her now, he pulled on his clothes. “I need to get to Lilah’s and see if she needs help treating the dogs.”

She let out the breath she’d been holding and sat up, pulling the sheet to her chin. Stupid to feel modest now, but she’d never felt more naked in her life.

Don’t look back, she told herself. She wouldn’t begrudge falling for him, or this place, any of it because she’d found herself here—not the person she’d thought she was supposed to be, but the woman she really was. And as it turned out, she was a lot more like her dad than she could have imagined.

And that was okay, too, because maybe, just maybe, she’d also learned to do what he’d always wanted for her— how to love without question, how to give her whole heart, no regrets.

But damn. Damn, it sucked.

Wyatt walked to her bedroom door, put his hand on the handle, and let out a long breath before facing her. “I really am happy for you,” he said with his usual blunt honesty. “Everyone should get what they want out of life, but especially you, Emily. You deserve that.”

He was gone before she found her voice. “You, too,” she whispered.