Page 135 of Fall With Me (Sugarland Creek)

“It's a chick, ain’t it?” Wilder asks.

“Technically, it's a group chat. But there's one in here who always flirts with me.”

“What kind of group chat?”

“My friend, Jake, added me to this horse club he's in. They mostly talk about random shit, horses, and some rodeo stuff.”

“A horseclub? Are you sure that ain’t code for something else…” Wilder taunts, waggling his brows.

Give it to his twin brother to mock him. I can't remember the last time Waylon dated someone or even been interested in more than a fling.

“Sounds suspicious to me…” I join in.

“Fuck off, it's not.”

“Do y'all have a code word?” Wilder asks. “Big Donkey Schlong or Monster Horse Dick.”

I elbow Wilder, trying to fight back laughter because I know Waylon's not tolerating it.

“What would you know about big dicks anyway?” Waylon muses, and this time I lose my battle of not laughing. These two are about to have a verbal sparring, and I'm currently in the middle of it.

“I dunno…why don't you ask your ex-girlfriend? She's seen it…”

My eyes widen as I look between them, waiting to see if fists go flying so I can dodge them.

“Stay away from Delilah, you fucker,” Waylon spits.

“What?” Wilder shrugs. “She wanted an upgrade…”

“Ooookay…” I drawl. “If I have to sit next to y'all on the plane for the next four hours, save the ass kickin' for when we get home.

When we get into our seats and buckle in, I lean over toward Waylon. “So tell me about the girl who flirts with you. What's her name?”

“I dunno. I only see her phone number.”

“Y'all didn't do introductions or anything?”

“No, Jake didn't do that. I was added in after they already formed it and they were mid-conversation. When someone said something I could help with, then I chimed in. And it just went from there…”

“Well you've got her number, don't ya? Just text her and say, Hey, I'm Waylon from the group chat. What's your name?”

He frowns. “That sounds so high school.”

I arch a brow. “Asking a girl for her name?”

“I'll think about it.” He shrugs noncommittedly.

“Is she local?”

“I think so.”

“Well, lemme see her number. Maybe I'll recognize it.”

“How? From your manwhore ways five years ago?” he asks, chuckling, but then goes to the chat and hands me his phone.

“That one…” He points to a number I absolutely do recognize.

And I recognize it because I was helping Noah file some client paperwork a few weeks ago, and I remember laughing to myself that her number had three six's at the end of it. It reminded me of Ellie’s nickname—Little Devil.

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