Page 11 of Wild Eyes
She doesn’t bother looking back at Ford this time, choosing to roll her eyes at me instead.
“I know you just rolled your eyes,” he bites out, but he’s smirking.
She clamps her lips together to cover a giggle, then forges ahead. “He’s right. It’s not fancy. But it’s only one property over, and it’s private. And my brother won’t mind. He’s busy with his work and his kids and his stupid bowling team. You’ll hardly see him—unless you want to. Then he’d happily be your friend. Making friends is his special talent.”
Ford snorts at that statement, shaking his head with an amused twist to his mouth.
“Private sounds wonderful. I’m a little sick of people right now. And I don’t need fancy,” I say with forced enthusiasm.
But the truth is, I know nothing other than fancy.
I’ve been famous my entire life. Have lived lavishly my entire life. Have beenperformingmy entire life.
It’s time I take a break from performing.
Not fancymay be exactly what I need.
CHAPTER THREE
SKYLAR
When Rosalie said “not fancy,”she wasn’t kidding. And by bunkhouse, she literally meant bunk beds.
It’s stark white and super small. The narrow deck, which overlooks the lake, has a weatherworn rocking chair propped in the corner.
Earlier, I watched Rosalie casually dust the cobwebs from it with her bare hands. She didn’t seem concerned, but as we stand side by side in the musty bunkhouse, I can’t stop wondering if she’s going to wash them.
“So, when I stayed in here, I slept on the bottom bunk and used the top bunk as my closet, basically.”
I nod along, like this seems normal to me. It’s not. I might sing about country living, but I am a spoiled city girl through and through. I don’t think I’veeverseen anything like this before.
But I refuse to act like that’s the case. This is me being the cool, new, low-maintenance version of myself.
Not-fancy Skylar.
“Over on this counter is a hot plate, toaster oven, and kettle. That’s the fridge”—she points to a short white box in the corner—“but there’s no freezer. My brother will definitely sharehis with you. His kids are obsessed with freezies, so hopefully there’s room somewhere around their piles of sugary frozen goods. The bathroom is through that door at the back. There’s only a shower.”
I try not to wince. Baths are my favorite.
She stops her tour and nibbles nervously at her lip. “I should also tell you that my pet mouse, Scotty, lives here. He’s harmless. Sweet, really. If you could drop him some crumbs once a day, it will keep me from having to come do it myself.”
“Your pet…mouse?”
“Pfft.” She waves off my question. “You won’t even notice him. But I am rather attached, so please don’t tell my brother. He’ll set a trap and I’ll never forgive him.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I go for being relatable. “Oh yeah, I’ve got a pet bird. So that’s cool.” I nod as I speak while mentally convincing myself that I really won’t even notice herpet mouse.
She chuckles good-naturedly and tucks strands of dirty blond hair behind her ears as she peeks at me. “Cute. Will this be okay? I’ll get fresh bedding from the house for you. Oh, and a Wild Rose Records sweatsuit. It’s pink. You’ll love it.”
“Yeah.” I nod and force myself to look certain. Based on the way Rosalie’s nose wrinkles, I must not nail the look. “That’s perfect. I love it.”
Fake it till you make it, as they say.
Her eyes search mine. I don’t think she’s buying what I’m selling. At all.
“Once you’re settled in, we could…I don’t know…grab a drink or do something fun? I promised my friend Tabby a night out, but I’ve been so busy with the studio that I’ve let it slide. I need to touch base with her. You could join us.”
I blink.
