Page 3 of Wild Side
“You like to cook?”
A soft smile touches her lips now. “You could say that.”
I move past the island, padding across the hardwood floors, drawn to her chaos and unpredictability. But she’s already walking toward the door.
Blowing out the way she blew in. Confident and direct but also… tentative.
You could say that.
It makes me wonder what’s written between the lines of that response. This entire encounter also makes me wonder about her sister’s story.
“Should I be worried about her? Your sister. As a tenant?”
After toeing on her sandals, she straightens and faces me once more. The evening sun filters in from the windows surrounding the front door, casting her features in a warm glow. Her cheeks have a pink tint, like she’s embarrassed for barging in here and oversharing. For interfering.
“She’s a girl who got injured playing volleyball in high school and was prescribed something she shouldn’t have. She’s been low. Really low. But she’s healthy now. She’s gotten help. I swear. She’s a good mom. And she’ll be a good tenant. I promise.”
There’s a plea in her eyes. Determination in the set of her jaw. And underneath it all, I’m too fucking soft to push back. If she needs help this desperately, I can give it.
“Okay.” I dip my chin and shove my hands into the pockets of my gray sweats. We’ve all hit rough patches. Far be it from me to hold that over the head of a woman I barely know.
“But…”
I glance back up slowly, not liking the sound of thatbut.
“If—and this is a bigif—if she ever falls behind on rent, can you please call me? Day, night, whenever. I want her somewhere safe. I want a roof over her head. I want Milo happy and safe. I will pay if it comes to it.”
She slips a business card from her back pocket and holds it out to me. I reach for it—a little too eagerly. My fingers pinch the card stock, and I can see the Bighorn Bistro printed on it, but when I go to pull, she doesn’t let go.
My eyes snap to hers, and I can see the ferocity burning in them. She holds her opposite hand up, pinky finger extended. “Pinky swear.”
“Pinky swear?”
This encounter just keeps getting stranger.
“Yes. Pinky swear to me that you will call me if there’s a problem.”
I hold my pinky up with a deep chuckle. “You know these aren’t legally binding, right?”
Her finger curls around mine as her eyes point like arrows in my direction. “I know, but only a total asshole breaks a pinky promise.”
The woman is dead serious. And I’m too off-kilter to deny her.
“I pinky promise,” I reply gruffly.
She watches me for a beat, as though assessing the truthfulness of my promise. Then she nods and draws away. Without another word, she pulls the front door open and saunters out of my house. And I just stand there, arm propped on the doorframe, trying to wrap my head around that conversation.
Around that woman.
The one who, farther down the front walkway, turns to peek back over her shoulder.
For a few beats, I catch her looking. Or she catches me looking. To be honest, I don’t care which one it is.
I just know that usually I go out of my way to hide from too much attention.
But I don’t mind the way she looks at me.
CHAPTER 2
