CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WEST
I CALL FORD AS SOON AS I JUMP OUT OF MY TRUCK. HE ANSWERS ON THE third ring as I stroll down toward the bunkhouse.
“Hello?”
“Hey, can you send me Skylar’s email?”
Ford’s gruff voice filters back through my receiver. “Why? Doesn’t she live within spitting distance of you? Ask her yourself.”
“I want it to be a surprise.”
“This may come as a shock to you, but women don’t actually like surprise dick pics.”
“Get outta here. I have never sent a dick pic in my life.”
He says nothing. But I can imagine the disbelieving scowl on Ford’s face.
“Okay, fine. I have never sent an unsolicited dick pic in my life. It’s not my fault people are constantly asking for them.”
My best friend groans. “Jesus —”
But I stop listening partway through his response because I’m about halfway through the stand of pines when a scream pierces the soft night air. I freeze and take a quick inventory of what’s around me.
“Just send the email,” I bark before hanging up.
The scream stops.
But then it starts again.
It’s coming from the bunkhouse, and I break into a sprint down the gentle slope toward Skylar.
I was on my way to apologize to her because I shouldn’t have thrown her phone in the water. It was impulsive—something I’d have done as a teenager.
This is a girl who’s used to having security and assistants with her, and
I’ve left her without a way to call for help. Now she’s screaming like a masked murderer has her cornered in the bunkhouse.
What the fuck was I thinking? My stomach swoops and feels like it falls right out of my body as my feet thump across the grass.
I blast through the door and come to a screeching halt.
Skylar is seated on the short counter, fingers gripping the edge so hard that her knuckles have turned white. She has her knees drawn up and her perfectly polished toes point down at the floor.
“What’s wrong?” I turn on the spot, assessing the small space, before stomping past her and checking in the bathroom at the back. My heart thrashes against my rib cage as I check, half expecting an axe murderer to be
hiding behind the door.
“It’s…” she says from behind me.
When I turn to face her, Skylar’s wide eyes are conflicted under the brim
of her new hat. “It’s what?”
“It’s…nothing.”
I take a few steps toward her, propping my hands on my hips and giving her my best you have to be fucking kidding me look that I practice on Emmy all the time. “Nothing?”
As I take another step in her direction, she draws my attention down by licking her lips. I don’t want to crowd her when she’s clearly worked up, but it’s also hard to give her space in a place this small.
And I feel inexplicably drawn to her. To making sure she’s okay.
“You expect me to believe that nothing is wrong when you were screaming like a banshee not ten seconds ago?”
Her knees drop at a snail’s pace, and I watch as she examines the floor a little too carefully. Corner to corner. Like she lost one of her diamond
earrings down there or something.
“No. But I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
Her tongue darts out again. And I’m weak, so I watch.
That fucking mouth.
“Because I promised Rosie I wouldn’t.” She blows a loose strand of toffee-colored hair off her face. An almost exasperated action, like I’m
inconveniencing her by coming to help.
Again.
“My sister?”
She nods, top teeth pressing into her plush bottom lip as though that will keep her from spilling whatever secret they share.
“We’re all adults here. Just tell me so I can get whatever it is squared away.”
She has the nerve to scowl at me, as if I’m the asshole for being concerned about a screaming woman on my property. “I made a promise. I do have some integrity, you know.”
My brows drop down. “Stop assuming I’m always thinking the worst of you. I’m not —”
I stop because I see it. A flash of soft brown and the thin tail that trails behind as it scurries along below the cupboards.
“A mouse? I have traps.”
That tendon in her jaw pops, and she removes her hands from the counter, crossing her arms and her legs. Back to the very image of composure. Prissy through and through. Screaming over a fucking mouse and then sitting there like a queen looking at me like I’m the idiot.
“His name is Scotty. He just surprised me. Pretend you don’t know about him. If you set a trap, I will never forgive you.”
“You and my sister want me to pretend I don’t know there is a mouse named Scotty living in my bunkhouse?”
“Yes. I like her, and I won’t let you kill her mouse. Walk away and pretend this never happened.”
“You’re talking an awfully big game for someone who’s hiding on the counter to stay safe.”
She scowls. “Erase it from your mind, West.”
“Yeah? Just erase it?”
“Yes.”
“Like the kiss?”
That tendon pulses before she bites out, “What kiss?”
I smile. Full and blinding. It’s my panty-melting smile, and I’m not above pulling it out when needed. “That’s how we’re gonna play this, fancy face?”
She glares at me, defiance shining in her eyes. She hops down onto the floor bravely, though she can’t keep her eyes from taking a quick scan around her. “Yup. You can go. I’m fine. Great even.”
I cross my arms and widen my stance, ready for battle. “No fucking chance am I leaving you out here to sleep with my sister’s weird pet mouse.”
“Where are you expecting me to sleep? The barn?”
I shrug. “Won’t stop ya if that’s what tickles your fancy. But I have a spare room in my house. Queen-size bed, no mice. So that’s where you’ll sleep.”
She thinks about my offer. I can see the flash of longing in her molten irises right before she smothers the idea. “Pass.”
“You are beyond stubborn. Anyone ever told you that?”
“Nope.” She pops the p with so much attitude, I have to bite down on a smile. “It’s a new character trait for me. Sick of being told what to do.”
I glance around the space, considering how I’d get a horse to quit fighting me on what we both know is best for them.
I’d take the pressure off.
“Your call. You know where to find me. I’ll be doing night checks in a bit, and you can meet me at the barn. I promise to give you lots of space so you can work on that new character trait of yours.”
“What about not wanting anyone around your kids?”
“My kids aren’t here this week.”
“And next week?”
I toss her a wink. “Maybe Scotty will be dead by then.”
Her responding gasp sounds suspiciously like a laugh. “That’s not funny.”
“I didn’t mean for it to be,” I toss over my shoulder as I turn to leave.
It’s right when I get to the door that Cherry pipes up with her filthy little beak. “Fuck Coach Thick Thighs!”
I pause before turning back to Skylar, who is struggling to keep her face blank. “You were talking to your bird about me?”
“No” comes out of her mouth just a little too quickly to be the truth, but I
don’t call her on it.
Instead, I leave smiling.
And later, when I see her walking through the barn doors, I smile even bigger.