Page 84 of Wild Eyes
We both bite down on our lips before glancing at each other. Humor etches her features, and I drop her gaze, staring down at my uncomfortable, wet jeans and her toned legs as we continue our march up the hill.
“You go,” she says.
I shake my head. “Ladies first.” She didn’t mean anything by telling me to go first, but it’s so her. It’s proof of the way they trained her to behave. Like her opinion doesn’t matter as much. Like she should hold back her thoughts and feelings until everyone else has had a go.
And who knows? Maybe we both want to say the same thing.
“Okay, first, I won’t be erasingthatfrom my memory.”
I chuckle, watching the grass between my feet turn to dry dirt and pine needles as we pass closer to the house. “Thank fuck, because it’s burned into mine.”
She makes this sweet little humming noise, and it reminds me of her moaning into my mouth while my hands roamed. My dick feels uncomfortable against the wet denim.
“Second, we need to take a breath. I start working with Ford next week. I’m feeling invigorated about making something all on my own, rather than terrified about it, and I want to keep feeling that way. I also know your kids are coming back. You’ve made it clear that you want to protect their space”—she huffs out a breath—“and, god, do I respect you for it.”
The house comes closer and closer, and at the bottom of the stairs, she turns to face me. “You’re a great dad, West. I may not know you that well yet, but I know you love your kids in a way that I wish every kid got to experience. So, let’s…” A wry laugh escapes her lips. “Let’s back it up a bit. I’m going to start sleeping in the bunkhouse again tomorrow. We can take a breather for the week. I’m complicated, and I don’t want that to spill over into your family time. Plus, we’re good at being friends, yeah?”
She’s looking at me with such expectancy, such candor sparkling in her eyes. She’s being so mature and responsible.
Two traits I love.
But right now, I fucking hate them.
And all I want to do is blow up the mature and responsible parts of my brain and disagree with her. But I’ve learned to harness those urges over the years, so I nod and force a smile to my mouth.
“Yeah,” I say, because we are good at being friends. Something tells me we’d be good at more too.
But I give her the win.
Trying to ignore the way my spine tingles as she follows me into the house. Trying to ignore the way my fingers itch to reach for her as we go our separate ways down the silent hallway.
I thought she and I might say the same thing tonight, but I was wrong.
She went with being responsible. And I was going to sayFuck what I said. I want you.
As I shower and crawl into bed, the more I think about it, the more I think I would have scared her if I had said it.
So I settle on showing her. I’ve got an entire week with the world’s biggest cockblockers in the house to show Skylar that with us…something is different.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
WEST
“Why arethere girl clothes in the dryer?” Ollie shouts at me from the laundry room.
I freeze right as I’m about to flip the grilled cheese sandwich in the pan before me. I’m a grown-ass man, and I feel like I’m in trouble with a nine-year-old. Like I’m sneaking around somehow.
I consider making something up, but why?
“Those are Skylar’s, bud,” I call back.
He walks into the living room with a basket of Skylar’s dry clothes and plunks them on the table. The world’s most helpful kid, I swear. His sister is probably upstairs destroying something after losing her soccer game this morning, and he’s here, putting his favorite clothes through the wash after a week at his mom’s house.
“Gotcha” is all he says as he drops the basket on the living room table.
I steal a glance at him, but he casually makes his way to the table for lunch. He doesn’t ask why her clothes are in the wash, and I don’t know why I’m expecting him to interrogate me or look at me accusingly.
“Was thinking we could go out fishing after lunch.”
