CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
WEST
I JOG DOWN THE STEPS THAT LEAD OFF THE TEMPORARY STAGE. WHEN Skylar walked away, I was stuck in place, waiting through the next auctions, cursing Doris under my breath. I wanted to chase after Skylar but refused to
fuck up a fundraiser by making a scene.
But now I’m coming for her.
My feet hit the grass, and I make a beeline for the bar—but Bree steps into my path. She places a hand on my chest, and I flinch.
“West, I…” she says, but I’m not listening. I’m fixated on the fucking nerve of her.
Trying to win a date when I made my feelings clear. Touching me like she has the right. The only hands I want on me are Skylar’s.
“Bree. We’ve covered this,” I bite out, trying to keep it cordial but also relaying my agitation with her. “Respectfully…Back. Off.”
She rears back like I’ve slapped her, and I don’t miss the looks her friends exchange behind her.
But I don’t care. I’m polite, and I’m kind. And I have been nothing but honest and upfront with her.
Right now, I just want to find Skylar, so I shove past, not having anything else to say. With long strides, I push through the crowd. I feel their eyes on me and hear the announcer’s voice ringing through the speakers.
When I get past the throngs of people, I head for the bar, knowing Skylar has to pay inside. I charge through the doors, heart beating fast when I don’t see her anywhere. My eyes land on Doris, standing at her till and counting
cash with a pleased smirk on her face.
“Where is she?”
“Mind your manners, caveman.”
“Doris, I like your snark, but not today.”
Her eyes narrow on me. “The feeling is mutual.” She looks me over like she finds me lacking. “I like that girl. See a lot of myself in her, ready to run at any moment.”
I nip back a joke about hoping there isn’t too much Doris in Skylar.
“She needs a home, not more bullshit. Don’t be the reason she runs.”
My throat constricts at the mention of her running. I’ve always known she wouldn’t stay here, but it still hits me like a wrecking ball.
“Doris, please tell me where she is.”
“I knew you’d find your manners,” she mutters, going back to counting the bills in her hands. “She left out the side door toward the woods. You should go rescue her.”
My teeth grind as I toss her a nod before blazing out the side door after Skylar. I look right at the parking lot, not sure why she’d go there. I look left, beyond the lilac tree and toward the lake. She loves being by the lake, but I can see the tops of a few heads down there, and I suspect she’d go somewhere to be alone right now. Whatever she’s feeling, she wouldn’t want an audience. And when she’s overwhelmed, I know she likes to be alone.
So I look ahead into the trees and let my feet carry me toward them. The scent of earth and pine swirls up around me as my boots crunch on dry needles and twigs. I don’t know how long I search for her. Through the trees, back up along the shoreline. I search long enough that my brain has a grand ol’ time coming up with all the terrible things that could have happened to
Skylar.
A bear.
A cougar.
A stalker.
A serial killer.
My heart pounds so hard, I hear it in my ears—it feels like it’s rattling against my shirt. I take my phone out to call her and realize I’m the asshole who threw hers into the lake. Seemed good for her mental health. Hadn’t really considered mine.
When I wind up back at the parking lot, I turn in a circle and comb my fingers through my hair, tugging at the ends. “Fuck,” I grit out.
This reminds me of the time Emmy wandered away in the grocery store and we kept missing each other between aisles. Except this area is massive
and people are milling about everywhere. The whirring noise of rides and the happy squeals of children drift through the air. I call her name a few times but feel cautious about causing a scene.
I told her not to worry about the press or the headlines, but so help me, if I see another one making her out to be some sort of idiot, I’m going to hop on a plane to Los Angeles and let fists fly.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Fuck.” My eyes scan again and again as I try to think of where Skylar
would go. Where would she run?
Home.
I almost shake the idea away, somehow doubting she’d feel much of an attachment to my place. But it’s all I can come up with, so that’s where I head.
The feeling of uneasiness doesn’t recede at all as I jump into my truck, and it only worsens as I head down the backroad toward my house. It’s a short drive, but it feels impossibly long. If she’s not there, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Start tearing this entire town apart, probably.
I pass the sign with Emmy’s unicorn taped below. I speed onto the property, knowing that if I caught anyone driving like this onto my land, I’d lose my shit on them.
Agitation lines every limb as I make the final turn around the side of the
house.
And she’s there.
Sitting on the old tree swing. Swinging.
There’s something childlike about the way she looks right now. Summer dress draped over extended legs, fingers gripping the worn ropes, face tipped up to the sun, with wisps of hair trailing behind her.
Ignoring me. Though she’d have to be deaf not to have heard me come roaring in here.
I yank the door open and drop from my truck, boots heavy on the gravel.
She still doesn’t give me her attention.
I’m keeping my cool, but my voice shakes when I call across the space to her. “You’ve been ignoring me for twenty-four hours. Then you drop ten grand on me. And now you’re going to continue to ignore me?”
“I don’t want my date right now.” She swings again.
“Skylar, I have been searching high and low for you for the past thirty
minutes, and so help me, if you don’t turn around and address me —”
She leaps from the swing and spins on me, eyes blazing as her voice bounces off the tall pines surrounding us. “What? If I don’t pay attention to you, you’re gonna what?”
I swallow, happy to take her anger over her indifference.
“I’ve had it up to here”—her hand slices through the air above her head as she shouts—“with people demanding my attention. And I’m not ignoring
you. I went for a fucking walk.”
Good god, she walked back?
“I’m trying to keep it together so I don’t make a total fool of myself.
Again,” she adds quietly.
The heat from the front grill of my truck pushes against my back, making me want to move in closer, but I don’t. I’m too concerned about scaring her off. Startling her. Doris’s words about her looking ready to run echo through my head.
“Not once have you made a fool of yourself.”
Her scoff floats across the warm summer air between us. “Oh, let’s see. I freeze up on camera. I try to pet wild bears —”
“That’s an exaggeration, and you know it.”
She takes assertive steps in my direction, staring me down as she continues to list all her perceived failings. “I take a soccer ball to the face. I kiss a guy who tells me he only wants to be friends. I kiss that guy again and then I tell him we’re better off as friends. And then I…I…I throw a jealous fit and buy him at some small-town man auction. And now I’m sitting here trying to train my brain into thinking I did that because it was for a good cause.”
A foot of grass separates us now. She’s close enough now that I can smell her. Her skin. Her lotion. Coconuts and pineapple. Perfectly applied makeup and those red fucking lips.
I bite my tongue, inclining my head to take her in as she rakes her hands through her hair and averts her eyes. Like she hates what she just admitted.
She doesn’t even realize how she’s blossomed since that first night. “First of all,” I bite out, clenching my fists to keep from grabbing her, “you should be fucking proud of yourself. You are strong and you are capable, and you’ve done nothing but prove that to yourself and everyone around you for the past several weeks.”
She starts, eyes widening as her hands fall limp at her sides.
“Second of all, I’m buying you a phone because not knowing where you were made me fucking sick.”
A flush streaks up her cheeks, and I see the apology in her eyes.
“And third of all, the only foolish thing you’ve done is continue to refer to us as friends.” I spit the word. “That word makes me want to break
something.”
“Well, great. Thank you for that —”
Her eyes roll, and I snap.
I step up to her and grip her chin, the defiance in her eyes a match for my own. “Don’t you fucking get it, Skylar? How much clearer can I be? I moved you into my house. I’ve included you in my family. I cleared any other complication without a second thought. I spend almost every waking moment with you. I fist my cock every night thinking about you. You see any other friends of mine hanging around?”
I turn, peering around dramatically. “’Cause I sure as shit don’t.”
“That’s not funny.” I feel her rough swallow against my palm, and when she draws away, I slide my hand to the back of her neck. Forcing her to stay, to see me. To hear me.
“Good, because I wasn’t fucking joking.”
My right hand snakes around her, and I lift, turning and dropping her on the hood of my truck. I step between her knees, dress draping between them, and slide my hands beneath the fabric. “I’m done pretending that being your friend is enough.” I grip her thighs. “Now spread your legs.”
“West—” My name ends on a gasp as my palms move higher, but she does as she’s told, and I explore until I reach the lace underwear wedged against her hips.
“I want these off.” My fingers hook and my arms jerk back, tugging the flimsy fabric down her shaking thighs. Soon, nude lace stretches between her spread knees and my cock jumps at the sight. “They’re in my way.” I yank again and the delicate fabric rips.
“Those were expensive,” she hisses, nails digging into my shoulder, temper flaring as I toss the expensive scraps onto the dirt and rocks at my feet.
I pull her to the edge of the hood and press my palm to her sternum, pushing her back so she lands on her elbows.
Not a single thread of resistance in her body, mad as she might be.
“Then stop wasting your money on them, fancy face. They only get in my
way.”
She lets out a low, frustrated growl, but she stays splayed out before me. I reach up and release the end of each shoulder tie from her dress. Soft fabric tumbles off her shoulders. And one tug at the front leaves her breasts exposed
to the fresh air and bright sun.
Fucking perfect.
Her lips pop open, and gooseflesh covers her skin as my eyes rake over her heaving chest.
“That fucking mouth, Skylar. The things I want to do to it.”
“Then do them.” The pink tip of her tongue darts out over her bottom lip, and I groan, my jeans becoming downright painful. “You’re the only one who’s never treated me like porcelain. Don’t start now. Do. Them.”
I palm her breasts, watching raptly as her lashes flutter shut and her back arches up into my touch. My gaze follows the path of my hands as they move
lower. Exploring every curve.
Hips.
Thighs.
Down to her knees, where I draw a slow circle with the tip of my index finger. She squirms, hips pressing toward me. And I get off on it.
“What are you asking me for, Skylar?”
I peek up at her—damp lips, glazed eyes, pretty fucking tits. A tendon in her jaw flexes, and I can tell she’s still agitated.
Hot and agitated.
“I want…”
My hands glide back up. “What do you want, baby? Let me hear it.”
“I want you to fuck me.”
The words come out soft and low, and I smirk at her. “I know you do. I can tell. Practically begging for it.”
She finds her voice and corrects me. “No, I am demanding you fuck me.”
My head tilts as I hold her gaze and press her thighs farther open, her dress nothing more than bunched fabric around her waist. One flick of my eyes has me seeing everything I didn’t that night in the dark.
“You’re fucking soaked, Sky. Is this all for me?”
She huffs out a breath and glances away.
I pinch her clit, and it draws a gasp and glare.
“Eyes on me when I’m touching you.”
“Then get to touching me, West. You’re doing an awful lot of
staring —”
I bite down on my bottom lip as my thumb strums over her clit. Once.
Twice. Three times. That movement shuts her up, has her squirming and arching toward me. “Don’t rush me,” I mutter, watching my index finger disappear inside her as she clamps down on me. “I’m enjoying the view.”
“Fuck, West.”
I add a second finger on the next stroke in and twist, gliding into her so easily. She whimpers as I fill her, slow and steady.
“Atta girl. Make a mess on my hand. I fucking love it,” I grit out, draping one of her knees over my shoulder as I continue working her cunt. “How many times should I make you come today? Tell me.”
Her eyes snap to mine, body rocking gently against the hood of the truck.
“Sometimes I’m slow. Like, it can take a while. So don’t worry if I don’t —”
“Oh, fuck yeah.” I grin, adding my thumb to her clit. “I love a challenge.”
Then I drop my head between her legs and get to work on orgasm number one.