Page 5 of Protecting Her Secrets

“Whatever. I was fine without you.” He turns his attention to Ridge, shaking his hand. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Too bad we couldn’t keep that streak going,” Ridge says in a joking tone.

“What the fuck ever. You love it when I’m around.”

“Are you stocking up before the storm too?” I ask.

“Nah, I’m all set. Just saw your trucks in the parking lot and thought I’d see what was what.”

The bell on the door dings again, and Presley chimes in. “Anyone want to bet that’s Rowan?”

“Seems we all have the same idea.” Rowan looks between us, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“Not me. I don’t wait until the last minute,” Wilder says, all smug-like.

“Yeah, yeah. We get it. You’re so much better at adulting than us.” I roll my eyes.

“What do you want? A cookie?” Ridge pulls a pack of cookies off the shelf and tosses them to Wilder. “Here’s thirty of them.”

“I would never eat these. Do you know how many preservatives are in there?” He puts them back on the shelf, generating a chorus of laughter.

“Isn’t it exhausting being so good all the time, Sheriff?” Presley struts down the aisle. As she passes Wilder, she pats his chest, lowering her voice into something seductive. “Sometimes, it’s fun to be bad.”

“Oh, shit,” I call out, and Rowan hoots.

Surprising us all, Wilder smirks. “I can be bad when I want. You just name the time and place, Pres.”

“Promises, promises.” She disappears behind a display.

“One day, she’s gonna take you up on all your flirting,” I say.

“Nah. She’s like my sister.”

“If that’s true, then you just hit on your sister.” Rowan’s face pinches up in disgust.

“That’s sick, man,” I say.

Wilder’s brows lift nearly to his hairline. “I said she was ‘like’ my sister, not my real sister.”

“Sister fucker.” Ridge points to Wilder in one of the rare moments he joins in on the teasing.

Wilder opens his mouth to argue but is cut off by the bell on the door.Again. “Now who’s here?”

“Walker! You have a visitor,” Presley calls out.

“A visitor?” I mutter. “That’s weird.”

I make my way up to the front of the store, my three friends following close behind. Nosey fuckers.

Presley is facing me as she engages in conversation with a customer. I can’t tell who it is, since they have their back to me, but it’s obviously a woman. I don’t recognize her as a local. Her long, curly blonde hair hangs free, and she’s about Presley’s height, so I’d say five-five or so. She’s wearing a flannel shirt and a black vest that ends right above where her hip-hugging jeans begin. The way the denim forms to her shapely ass has my cock taking notice. Sometimes I break my rule to not fuck where I live for a tourist, and if this woman is single, I might have to make a move.

Then I hear her raspy voice, and I falter, memories hitting me all at once. I know that voice, but it can’t be here right now. No one knows where I am, not even my own mother. I moved here on a whim fifteen years ago and haven’t reached out to anyone from my old life. She laughs at something Presley says, and my heart attempts to pound right out of my chest while all the air leaves my lungs.

“There he is.” Presley gestures in my direction and says to me, “She says she’s an old friend.”

Almost in slow motion, the woman in question turns to face me. I go back and forth between wanting it to be her and praying it’s not until the decision is made for me, and I see her face, confirming her identity. Her hooded eyes narrow, hiding thedepth of those green eyes I’d know anywhere, and her full lips make a straight line, hiding the two little dimples that appear when she smiles.

“Skylar?” I breathe out, noticing the slight changes age has given her as recognition crosses her features.

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