Page 95 of Wild Eyes
When she pulls back, our noses touch, and she whispers, “Yeah, definitely overrated.”
I kiss her once more, taking liberties I shouldn’t, but everything about her is a green light right now. So why the fuck not? She tastes like pancakes. Syrup and chocolate chips. And mine.
It pains me to take a step back, but I can’t keep going the way I want to. Not here and not now. So I settle on memorizing the sight of her freshly kissed. Freshly mussed.
Shorts wedged high. Nipples pressing against the thin cotton ofmyshirt. Wild eyes latched ontome.
I bite my lip and wave a finger over her form. “Big fan of you looking like this too.”
If she weren’t already flushed, I bet she’d go pink.
She stares at me. I can tell her mind is going a mile a minute because she only turns away when we hear heavy footsteps bounding down the stairs. Those footsteps send me back over to the table, where I can pretend I’m dutifully cleaning up after breakfast.
“Dad, I need to borrow some money.”
“Why?” I ask Emmy without looking up. From the corner of my eye, I see Skylar hop off the counter and busy herself at the sink.
“I bet Ollie you’d go for the most money at the fair on Saturday. He says there’s no way you make it three years in a row.”
I grimace as Skylar’s gaze narrows in on Emmy. “The fair?”
“Yes,” she squeals with excitement. “You have to come. There’s a hypnotist and rides, and they auction off all the men for dates.”
“You make it sound like some kind of illegal trade, Emmy,” I say to calm her down a bit, noting the tension in Skylar’s shoulders. “It’s a bachelor auction for the food bank—for charity.”
“Oh,” Skylar says in a hushed tone before pressing her lips together and going back to cleaning. And refusing to look my way.
“You guys sure it’s tomorrow?” Fuck.Fuck.
I walk over to the calendar, where I try—and fail—to keep my life organized. Sure enough, I’ve scribbledTown Fairon Saturday. It’s just for fun, but getting auctioned off to the women in town when I just said those things to Skylar makes me feel guilty.
“I told Doris she could put me in to help raise money,” I explain.
“I love how charitable you are,” she says with a brittle smile as she fills the sink with soap and water. She tries really hard not to make eye contact with me, but when she takes a peek from beneath her lashes, my guilt only intensifies.
I may not be well-versed in relationships, but I amwell-versed in people looking at me like they’re disappointed.
And seeing it on Skylar’s face, when I can still feel her in my hands and taste her on my lips makes me despise that look more than ever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SKYLAR
BREAKING NEWS: Skylar Stone’s number-one fan has been unmasked by tiny traitors.
Being annoyedwith West when he continues to send me adorable emails is almost impossible. And being irritated at him for volunteering to raise money for the food bank is beneath me.
But here I am, slumming it in the gutter.
I’d rather be drowning in you.
I play that one sentence on repeat in my head as I walk to the shore. After breakfast, I helped clean up and put on a happy face. I’m good at putting on a happy face, even when it doesn’t match what’s inside. Now, West is taking the kids to their soccer, and I’m going to sit by the water in the wake of whatever I’m feeling.
And I’m pretty sure what I’m feeling is jealousy. A white-hot, turn-your-stomach kind of jealousy.
I’m acutely aware of it being irrational, and that makes no difference.
It’s not a feeling I’m familiar with. In past relationships, the prospect of other women never bothered me. And not because I trusted my partner not to step out. I just didn’t think about it. Possibly because I didn’t care enough to be bothered.
