Page 56 of Wild Eyes
Friends.
My lip curls at the word, but I also rationalize that Weston Belmont might be an ideal starting point for a girl who doesn’t have any. Even if I am a little perplexed by his steadiness and transparency. By how much hecares.
But then, perhaps that’s the basis of normal friendships.
With that in mind, I go searching for him. Slipping my feet into my sandals, my hand clamps on the front doorknob, and I twist, only to open it to a woman standing right in front of me, fist up like she was about to knock and I ripped the door out from under her hand.
For a few beats, we stand and stare at each other.
Me in confusion.
Her with an air of hostility.
We size each other up. She’s got icy-blue eyes and smooth chocolate-colored hair that frames her face in a silky sheet. Full brows and high cheekbones. The longer I stare at her flawless bone structure, the more I feel like a troll who just crawled out from under a bridge.
“Hi,” I venture carefully. “I’m…not from here.”
Way to go, Skylar, you awkward idiot.
“Are you…” I know the question even as she trails off. Her eyes race over me in shock.
With a full mouth, Cherry still gets out an enthusiastic, “Go away!” and I do my best not to cringe.
“Sorry, she’s hangry,” I offer lamely as Cherry rips another chunk out of the banana I’m holding up.
God. What must this woman be thinking right now? A bruised Skylar Stone answers the door with a rude parrot—who is dropping banana bits on my shirt as we speak.
“I’m just…” She shifts, peeking into the house. “I’m looking for West. Is he in?”
“Yeah, same. I’m also looking for him.”
Her eyes narrow like she’s wondering if I’m bullshitting her, and my cheeks heat as more explanations tumble from my lips. “I’m just at his house because we’re friends. Not a clue where he is. I woke up, and he wasn’t here.”
Her mouth purses, and I realize how badly I’m blowing this. His explanation aboutfriendslast night drifts into my mind.
This. This is what I did not want.
“No. No. We’re actual friends. Separate rooms type of friends.”
The gorgeous woman seems to be at a loss for words. Probably because I sound like a bumbling idiot. And look like I’ve taken a header into a wall. I’m about to clarify—again—when West’s deep baritone booms from the side of the wraparound deck.
“Bree.”
I hate how familiar her name sounds on his lips. She spins so eagerly.
I’ve known this man for two days and I’m instantly jealous. It’s ridiculous.
To cover, I put on a big smile. Based on the head tilt West gives me, it must be a weird fucking smile. But whatever.
He smiles back at me, but she preens like it was meant for her. “I was worried about you after you canceled last night.”
He holds both hands out wide as he approaches the front steps. All it does is show off his immense width. The veins that run the length of his thick arms. The bronzed skin peeking out from between the top of his jeans and the bottom of his shirt. “All in one piece.”
The woman glances back at me and then at West. She’s clearly trying to piece together what’s going on.
I want nothing more than to escape. I know this type of drama, and I want no part in it.
They may need makeup sex, and as much as it turns my stomach, I decide to give them the space.
