Page 53 of Wild Eyes
Skylar is seated on the short counter, fingers gripping the edge so hard that her knuckles have turned white. She has her knees drawn up and her perfectly polished toes point down at the floor.
“What’s wrong?” I turn on the spot, assessing the small space, before stomping past her and checking in the bathroom at the back. My heart thrashes against my rib cage as I check, half expecting an axe murderer to be hiding behind the door.
“It’s…” she says from behind me.
When I turn to face her, Skylar’s wide eyes are conflicted under the brim of her new hat. “It’s what?”
“It’s…nothing.”
I take a few steps toward her, propping my hands on my hips and giving her my bestyou have to be fucking kidding melook that I practice on Emmy all the time. “Nothing?”
As I take another step in her direction, she draws my attention down by licking her lips. I don’t want to crowd herwhen she’s clearly worked up, but it’s also hard to give her space in a place this small.
And I feel inexplicably drawn to her. To making sure she’s okay.
“You expect me to believe that nothingis wrong when you were screaming like a banshee not ten seconds ago?”
Her knees drop at a snail’s pace, and I watch as she examines the floor a little too carefully. Corner to corner. Like she lost one of her diamond earrings down there or something.
“No. But I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
Her tongue darts out again. And I’m weak, so I watch.
That fucking mouth.
“Because I promised Rosie I wouldn’t.” She blows a loose strand of toffee-colored hair off her face. An almost exasperated action, likeI’minconveniencingherby coming to help.
Again.
“My sister?”
She nods, top teeth pressing into her plush bottom lip as though that will keep her from spilling whatever secret they share.
“We’re all adults here. Just tell me so I can get whatever it is squared away.”
She has the nerve to scowl at me, as if I’mthe asshole for being concerned about a screaming woman on my property. “I made a promise. I do have someintegrity, you know.”
My brows drop down. “Stop assuming I’m always thinking the worst of you. I’m not?—”
I stop because I see it. A flash of soft brown and the thin tail that trails behind as it scurries along below the cupboards.
“A mouse? I have traps.”
That tendon in her jaw pops, and she removes her hands from the counter, crossing her arms and her legs. Back tothe very image of composure. Prissy through and through. Screaming over a fucking mouse and then sitting there like a queen looking atmelikeI’mthe idiot.
“His name is Scotty. He just surprised me. Pretend you don’t know about him. If you set a trap, I will never forgive you.”
“You and my sister want me to pretend I don’t know there is a mouse named Scotty living in my bunkhouse?”
“Yes. I like her, and I won’t let you kill her mouse. Walk away and pretend this never happened.”
“You’re talking an awfully big game for someone who’s hiding on the counter to stay safe.”
She scowls. “Erase it from your mind, West.”
“Yeah? Just erase it?”
