When they got into the elevators, he motioned to the keypad. “Punch in your code,” he said firmly.
“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest, but then suddenly felt sick as everything started spinning. Leaning heavily on the wall, it took her two tries to finally get her security code correct to allow the elevator to head up to the penthouse. “You lied.”
“I assume your parents broke their promise,” he said firmly.
“Damn right.” She realized she was shouting, so she lowered her voice to a whisper. “We’re family. We don’t keep secrets.”
“Yeah,” Wyatt said. He crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at her. “So, what? You get drunk because…”
“You lied to me.” She pointed her finger at his chest. “I was thinking of sleeping with you and you lied.”
She watched his eyebrows jerk up. “You were?”
“No.” She frowned, not happy that she’d admitted that. “Maybe.” She rolled her eyes and immediately felt her empty stomach roll. “Oh, I’m going to be…”
The elevator doors opened, and she rushed out. She fumbled to enter the security code on her door, not paying any attention to if he followed her or not as she raced to the bathroom and got sick.
When she felt better, she took her time and brushed her teeth and washed her face. When she stepped out into her living room, Wyatt was wheeling a cart full of food into the dining room.
“You ordered room service?” she asked, sitting down.
“I figured that you hadn’t eaten, and I was hungry myself. I thought we could talk over dinner.” He transferred the plates to the dining table. “Nice place you have here.” He motioned around.
She lifted the lid to the plate he’d set in front of her and groaned with pleasure when the smell of the steak hit her.
“I’m sure you’ve already been up here,” she said with a sharp tone. “Or at least have seen the layout or…” She motioned with her fork. “Blueprints or pictures or whatever.”
“No, I haven’t.”
Her eyes narrowed at him. “Doesn’t the FBI know everything?”
He sighed and shook his head. “Not everything,” he said softly.
“Tell me you don’t suspect my parents,” she blurted out.
His eyebrows arched but it took him only a split second before he answered. “I don’t suspect your parents.”
She ran her eyes over him and maybe she was still tipsy, but she believed him.
“Okay,” she said softly.
“I noticed you didn’t inquire if I suspect you?” he said, watching her.
She took a bite of the steak and shrugged. “If you know anything about my family, you’d know why I would never involve myself in anything that hurts kids.”
“Yet you asked about your parents?” he pointed out.
She set her fork down and took a sip of the water he’d poured her.
“For years after Amber went missing, people suspected my parents,” she said, meeting his eyes. “It nearly tore them apart.”
He nodded. “I don’t suspect your parents,” he said again. “You have my word.”
“The word of Wyatt…” She tilted her head, waiting. She watched him struggle with opening up to her and telling her the truth.
“Wyatt Nicholas,” he finally answered. “Born and raised on a farm in West Texas,” he added with a slight accent. Then he smiled, and she felt her heart jump in her chest.
“I knew you were a cowboy,” she said, and went back to eating.