Page 120 of Wild Love
I shake my head in disbelief at what just went down between us. Afraid to hope that it might happen again.
It feels… too good to be true.
I guess that’s why I drop to my knees, gather her against me—paint be damned—and kiss her like my life depends on it.
To convince myself that this thing with her might actually be real.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
FORD
“I can’t believeyou want topracticebowling,” West teases before taking a deep swig of his beer. “Usually, you look like you’d rather tie a brick around your ankle and jump off the dock.”
He’s not wrong about that part.
And I don’t especially want to practice bowling.
What I want to do is come clean with my best friend in a public place where there will be cameras. Just in case he tries to beat the shit out of me for spending all morning in the shower, scrubbing paint off his little sister.
Of course, we did more than scrub paint, and afterward, I felt like I was sneaking around. Hiding her.
I don’t want to feel that way with Rosie, and I don’t want Rosie to think she needs to be hidden.
“Just haven’t seen much of you lately,” I say. “Thought we’d hang out more once I moved here.”
West grins and props an elbow against the table while we wait for our lane to clear out. “It’s almost like we’re two grown-ass men with shit to do.”
I huff out a laugh. “True story.”
“I’m always extra busy this time of year. People bring their young horses up for starting. The kids are wrapping up at school. I think that’s why I look forward to Dads’ Night Out so much. I get one night every two weeks where I can kick back and be myself. Without marking it somehow, I think I’d just work and parent and do chores around the farm without stopping. Forces me to look up now and then, ya know?”
I take a sip of my beer and nod, considering his perspective. Somehow, I hadn’t thought of bowling nights that way. After all, I waltzed into town as a workaholic bachelor with no dependents.
But now that I’ve got multiple businesses on the go, an almost-teenager, and a maybe-relationship, I can see where he’s coming from. I can see life getting away from you. The fact I’ve barely seen him since Cora joined the family is proof of that.
“You know…” He scrubs at the stubble on his chin, flashing the tattoos on his knuckles. “If you really hate bowling, I can try to find someone to replace you. Starting to feel like this is a prison sentence for you. Maybe you just wanna bring a book and read at our table or something.”
I bark out a laugh. “Why the fuck would I do that?”
The look he gives me screams that he thinks I’m an idiot. “You pulled that shit all the time when we were younger. Ididn’t give a shit then, wouldn’t give one now either. I know you and I are different. I’m cool, and you’re a huge dork. But it works.”
I roll my eyes. “West, you’re not that cool. And being friends with me is safe because if you had a friend who was too similar, I think that might trigger the apocalypse or some shit.”
His shoulders shake as he takes another drink. “Dude, I’m getting old. My wild streak is bowling and staying up late enough to watchSaturday Night Live.”
“We both know you just watch the Skylar Stone episode on repeat.”
He reaches across and punches my arm playfully in response.
I know I’m putting off telling him what I came here to say. I just don’t know how to segue into the conversation. I’m not asking for his permission—I’m just trying not to blindside the guy after decades of friendship.
I don’t excel at subtle conversations.
I rub my thumb up and down the chilled pint glass, gathering the courage to spit it out. “So, speaking of the apocalypse…” I peek at him from the corner of my eye. He’s watching me, but I keep my gaze plastered forward on the lanes, trying to act casual. I take a deep gulp of my cloudy IPA before spitting it out. “I’m in love with your sister.”
West doesn’t move, but I see him nodding, tongue swiping over his bottom lip.
The silence between us stretches out. One beat. Two.
