Page 25 of Sweet Escape
Wilder is at my side immediately, his hands stuffed in his front pockets like he’s resisting the urge to touch me. I wish he would. I don’t understand this pull I feel toward him, but I don’t have the energy to fight it.
“Welcome to Whispering Oaks.” He rocks back on the heels of his distressed leather boots. This nervous man in front of me is the complete opposite of the Wilder Hayes I met on the plane. “This is my brother, Griffin. He’s just here to be nosey, and then he’ll be on his way. Griff, this is Olivia Sullivan. Rosie’s granddaughter.”
Rosie’s granddaughter.
Not his friend.
Not his one-night stand.
Not the road trip buddy.
Just… Rosie’s granddaughter.
I don’t know why that stings, but it does. It would be nice to know I might mean something to him, even if it is just ‘the woman I met on the plane six weeks ago.’
If I thought Wilder was big, he’s got nothing on Griffin. The massive man steps up beside his brother, and it’s then that I see the similarities. They have the same bone structure, though Griffin is noticeably broader and taller by at least a few inches. He’d be intimidating if it weren’t for the infectious smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You must be the Goddess who makes those amazing cupcakes.”
“Goddess, huh? I think I like you.”
Wilder pins him with a glare, and Griffin chuckles. “I like you, too, Little Sully. Y’all have fun now,” Griffin says, heading back toward the barn with one last wave over his shoulder.
“I have a bone to pick with you.” I plant my hands on my hips in a half-hearted display of indignation. “Why did you letme go on a random tirade about Ruby Lynn Hayes knowing good and goddamn well she’s your sister?”
He takes a step into my space, sweeping away the lock of hair that’s escaped my messy bun. “Two reasons. One: I didn’t think you’d believe me. And two: I was really,reallyenjoying the show.” His voice is low when he speaks, and my entire body responds like a bitch in heat. “Does that answersatisfyyour needs, Cupcake?”
No. No, it most definitely does not.
He steps back and clears his throat, taking all of his warmth with him. The space does nothing to quell the growing ache between my thighs. This is going to be a long day. It appears I’m still drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
“This is Storm.” He runs a hand over the horse’s silky black mane. “She’s a sweet girl. She’ll take good care of you.”
Too bad I won’t get to experience it. Doctor Patel informed me it would be unsafe for me to be on horseback alone, and I doubt Wilder is going to want to ride with me once I break the news to him. My chest aches, and the urge to tuck tail and run is stronger than ever.
“Can we talk first?” I ask. “There’s… something I need to tell you.”
His brows draw together, and his lips turn down into a frown. “What is it? Is everything okay?”
Sidestepping the question, I ask, “Is there somewhere we can sit?”
“Sure. Follow me.”
We walk in tense silence as Wilder leads me up a narrow cobblestone path, stopping when we reach a large, white two-story farmhouse with a wraparound porch. It looks like a newer addition to the ranch, with vertical white siding and black trim around the windows and doors. We take a seat on either side of the steps. The distance between us feels oppressive but necessary.
“I… um…” I fidget with the aquamarine birthstone ring on my right hand, the one Grammy gifted me for my sweet sixteen. “There’s no easy way to say this. I?—”
The meager attempt at a confession is interrupted by the crashing of a screen door against the frame, my attention drawn to the toddler barreling toward the stairs at breakneck speed. She stumbles on a loose board at the top of the steps, and her face turns from excitement to pure terror. Acting on instinct, I reach out and catch her in my arms, stopping her forward motion before she can tumble all the way down. My heart races as I hold her to me.
Her bright blue eyes meet mine, and her bottom lip trembles.
“Hey, it’s okay, sweetie,” I say. “I’ve got you.”
She squeezes me tightly, burying her face in my neck.
“Emmy Lou. Come to Daddy.” At the sound of her father’s voice, she releases me and flings herself at him. “You’re okay, Angel.”
Angel. He calls her Angel. I’m absolutely done for.
“Emmy, I’d like you to meet Miss Olivia.” He stands her between his legs, pointing across the stairs.
