Page 111 of Wild Eyes
She smiles at him before turning back to wink at us. “Nice to meet you, Skylar. You two come up to the house for dinner sometime. We’d like that.”
“I would too,” I add softly, feeling West’s fingertips strum soothingly on my shoulder.
She pivots to leave, jogging away down the front steps, and West straightens beside me. “Wait, why’d you really come over?”
She’s already getting into the car while Andy holds the door for her, but she glances up and calls back, “Oh, I really was just snooping. And, Weston, clean the driveway.”
She drops into her seat and Andy closes her door with another shake of his head. When they pull away, his mom waves with excitement while his dad continues shaking his head.
We watch them disappear down the road, standing side by side in stunned silence.
“Well, that was something,” West says. “One day, we’ll look back on this and laugh about the day you met my parents.”
An awkward giggle erupts from me. Partly because that was one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life. And partly because when West talks about us—the future—like it’s such a sure thing, it makes me downright giddy.
“Why did you have three fake IDs?” I blurt, my mind tripping up on that tidbit.
West presses a rough kiss to my temple and grins. “Kept getting a new one because Dad kept taking them away. He only got three. I had more.”
“You weren’t kidding about being a handful.”
He laughs, all warm and deep. The vibration rolls through my body, and I press closer just to be near him. I want to soak him in as much as I can. To bask in this rosy, happy bubble.
“My mom always said she had to hug me a little longer just in case it was the last one. I used to laugh about that, play it off like she was being ridiculous. Now? As a parent?” He scrubs a hand over his beard and shakes his head but never answers his question. I can guess what he’s thinking.
Just in case it’s the last one.
The sentiment of his mom’s saying hits me hard, and I hug him tighter, nuzzling into his side.
He kisses my hair and murmurs, “How about we eat and go get you a phone, so I don’t tear this town apart the next time I can’t find you?”
All I can muster is a nod because the thought of being separated from West hits sharp and fast and leaves me at a loss for words.
By Wednesday, I’ve given up pretending that I don’t gawk at West while he sits on the back of a horse. Sure, my notepad is in my lap, but I enjoy the stillness, the simplicity of just sitting and watching him. The sun on my skin, the birds overhead.
Shit, I’ve even come to enjoy the smell of the barn.
Most days I lose count of how many horses he rides. It seems like it varies each time I watch. But he infrequently leaves the arena. A groom or a farmhand brings him his next horse and even I can tell that they leave the ring better than they came in.
More calm.
More accepting.
More sure of themselves.
And I can relate. I’ve spent the last four nights in West’s bed—his arms around me, his lips on my skin—and I feel all of those things too.
“This one’s spicy,” the man I’ve come to know as Conor calls as he leads out a horse I don’t recognize. She trots sideways, showing the whites of her eyes. “She’s been pissed since the moment she arrived this morning.”
West nods while he walks the bay gelding that he just hopped off to the fence and loops the reins over the post. His broad palm swipes over the horse’s face, and its eyes flutter shut when he says, “Good man,” to it.
He tosses me a wink as I lean back on the bleachers. During this time of day, the sun hits them directly, and I’m enjoying getting a tan that doesn’t rub off on my sheets at night. This may give me wrinkles when I’m older, but I’ll love each one as memories of this blissful little stop in my life.
West approaches Conor and takes the filly’s reins. She’s a dark dapple gray. Her coat is incredible, giving her a silver-spotted appearance. West murmurs to her, ignoring every spin and prance. He goes about his work with all the patience in the world as Conor slides over to grab the one West left near the post.
“Skylar.” He offers me a professional nod and I return it with a quick wave.
“Conor.”
