Tears gathered in her eyes. Refusing to let them spill down her cheeks, she struggled not to blink as she climbed into the tub. She would enjoy a glass of wine and focus on positive things, first and foremost that Wyatt had indeed been shunning her, that it wasn’t all in her head, and that she should be relieved to know his distaste for her had nothing to do with her looks or how she came off to men. She could be the most beautiful and feminine woman in the world, and Wyatt would still have no interest.

* * *

Wyatt struggled to fall asleep, hoping that his tossing and turning wasn’t keeping the other men in the bunkhouse awake. He couldn’t tell if his cot squeaked or if bunching up his pillow made an annoying sound. In addition to Kennedy and Tex, two newly hired guys now slept in the room. If he kept all of them from getting their rest, they would be as cranky as old ladies tomorrow. Not that he hadn’t been short-tempered himself today. Busting his ass from dawn until almost dark and then not being able to sleep at night had him running on pure adrenaline and foul moods.

He carefully released a pent-up breath, wondering if expelling air from the lungs made a sound that bothered others. What he needed to do was get out of this stuffy building and away from everyone else. Where he would go, he had no clue. He only knew he needed some alone time. Even sleeping in the hay-storage building would be better than this. At least there he wouldn’t have to worry about making noise and disturbing his men.

Clad in only boxers, he sat up on the edge of his cot, jerked on his jeans, and then stood to button and zip them. Not bothering with socks, he shoved his bare feet into his boots and grabbed only his discarded T-shirt, which he carried balled up in his fist until he escaped outdoors. The chilly night air licked at his chest and made his skin pebble, but he wasn’t worried about getting cold. He kept a jacket in his truck, and he could collect it if necessary. For now he just needed to work up a good sweat, and the best way he knew to do that was at the business end of a shovel. He struck off for the horse barn. On a ranch this size, there was never a shortage of work to be done, so he’d just muck out stalls until physical exertion drove the tension from his body. If shoveling didn’t do the trick, maybe a dip in the creek would give him some relief.

Tugging on his shirt as he strode to the barn, Wyatt silently lectured himself for suddenly feeling dissatisfied with his life. Well, he guessed it wasn’t sudden, not really. It had started last fall after he met Erin De Laney and had grown progressively worse over the last several months. Now he was so strung out with sexual frustration that he couldn’t sleep for fear that he’d dream of her again and ejaculate in his sleep.