Page 8 of Wild Eyes
But it’s the view of the lake beyond that truly enchants me. It’s downright breathtaking. So still that it makes me feel like I could walk across it. Or skate—if I knew how. The water appears navy, transitioning to a teal hue where the sun sparkles against the surface.
Next to the big truck, I jam my car into park and flop back against my seat to soak in the surroundings.
It feels totally unique. There’s no sterile polish or obnoxious white pillars. No fountains or valets. In fact, there are no people as far as the eye can see. My body relaxes as that realization hits.
Until Weston Belmont pops up out of nowhere and startles the shit out of me.
I must have zoned out and missed him rounding my vehicle, because his big, manly hands are here, propped above my window as he peers down at me. “You gonna just sit here all day?” he asks, right as Cherry squawks, “Go away!”
His head swivels sharply to eye her up—black beak and bluish-gray feathers with a splash of red at her tail. “What is that?”
“You mean,whois that? She’s my parrot. Cherry.”
He blinks twice before blurting, “She’s rude.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You have no idea.”
“She’s rude,” Cherry adds in a mocking voice that has me pressing my lips together and wincing.
“Sorry. She has an extensive vocabulary, and her shit-talk is legendary.”
All the man does is stare at my bird with a furrowed brow before shaking his head. Then his hand taps on the roof of my car as he draws away. “Right. Well, the office is in there.” He hikes a thumb over his shoulder. “I can introduce you if you’d like. Otherwise, I’ll be on my way.”
“Go away!” Cherry says. Again.
I grimace as I open my door and step out. Weston doesn’t move back. He stays exactly where he is, towering over me. Filling out his T-shirt in a way that artsy city boys just…don’t. My eyes catch on the hole in the fabric on his left pectoral again and the glow of golden skin beneath. The golden skin of a man who spends his time outdoors with no shirt on.
I come from the land of pale skin and spray tans, so there’s something mesmerizing about what might be beneath the cotton material. I sweep away the urge to wiggle a finger through the opening to find out for sure.
But men—especially men who catch my eye like this one—are the last thing I need in my life right now. I swallow and take a new vow of celibacy because dick will not help my predicament.
Then I peek up into his bright blue irises. They’re so electric that if he weren’t standing before me, I’d scoff and make a dismissive comment about how anyone can have eyes that colorwith Photoshop. Everything can be altered to look a certain way. Nothing is real.
But his eyes are.
He is.
I clear my throat, realizing I’ve been gawking for too long. “Well, I wouldn’t put it like Cherry. But truth be told, you’ve done more than enough for me today.” I smile softly, watching him regard me with a level of intensity that makes me squirm. “And this is something I need to do on my own,” I add quickly, nodding, more for my benefit than for his.
The man’s gaze drops to my mouth, and I roll my lips together.
“I—”
“Go away!” My fucking bird cuts me off. I love Cherry, but goddamn. Some days…
Some days, she is a possessive little hag.
And I’m not so sure I want him to go away.
Weston smiles, eyes still on my mouth, as he makes a light clucking noise. “All right, Cherry. I hear ya. I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” He steps back, hands held up in surrender.
I almost want to hug him before he walks away, and I’ve never considered myself a hugger. Physical affection isn’t something I grew up with, at least not behind closed doors. In public, my parents never hesitated to throw an arm over my shoulder or offer me a hug when the cameras were rolling. Affection was for show.
“Should we shake hands or something? What’s the protocol when someone uses his body as a shield for you in an almost bear attack?”
“Nah, you already said thank you. You don’t owe me anything. I did it because I wanted to.”
I blink a few times at that.
