“Highly unlikely,” she says, a hint of laughter in her tone.
I sit and wait, thinking of how I never expected to go out on the dock like I do every morning and find her sleeping on a mattress that was floating—or trying to float—on the lake.
I laughed, walked back in, grabbed some rope I fortunately had on hand for tying off boats, and walked back out. Then watched her until she woke up in a panic.
If I’d known she was out there last night, I wouldn’t have hesitated to swim that fucking cold water and bring her in with me.
Her father stayed away from me all night, but he cast several looks in my direction. No doubt it’s because I now know why he told me to keep my mouth shut about where I saw him. Or who I saw him with, rather.
Now he has two reasons to want me dead.
Great.
Thirty-seven minutes later, she walks out with dry hair in ringlets, and she comes to grab her boots from the table, pulling them on.
“These are some of my suedes, so we can’t get into too much mud. Just in case.”
“Why?” I ask, unable to help myself.
“Because something terrible would happen,” she says, looking up at me with all seriousness.
I only grin. I’ve really missed that. “And what’s that?”
She stands, looking like my favorite version of sexy—my T-shirt still hitting her thighs, showing only a peek of the boxers underneath, while her tan, suede cowboy boots with little blue, decorative flower patterns come up to her calf.
“Someone would have to die.”
I burst out laughing, but she keeps a serious face.
“You’re not kidding.”
She slowly shakes her head. “Mud doesn’t come out of suede too easily, if at all.”
“So this will be the most dangerous ride of my life?” I ask, grinning.
“Very possibly,” she tells me with a firm nod.
I open my mouth to speak, but someone knocks on the door. I get up to go answer it, but Kylie beats me to it. She swings it open, and I see a girl—can’t remember her name—holding a covered dish.
She takes one look at Kylie, darts a glance over her shoulder at me—I’m still shirtless, because Kylie won’t stop looking—and then back to Kylie before paling.
She slowly steps back, just as Becky did last night, and I grin as she suddenly turns and sprints back to her Explorer, the dish crashing to the ground as she races away like death is on her heels.
Kylie shuts the door, not even blinking an eye, while I try not to laugh.
“So you move here to stalk me,” she says as she turns around to face me, “but you get a house on the Vincent corner of crazy?”
Apparently we’re not going to discuss the fact she didn’t have to speak to utterly terrify a girl.
“I had no idea there were factions of crazy levels. Only locals are privy to that knowledge, apparently, so I was in the dark until it was too late,” I tell her, smirking.
“Touché,” she says, her smile slowly returning.
“Maybe you should leave the boots here,” I tell her as she grabs my keys.
“Why?” she asks, looking over her shoulder, as the sound of dirt flying up outside reminds me a girl is speeding away from here like she just saw the apocalypse coming.
“Because I’d hate to die before I finally got you under me.”
Blush hits her cheeks, and she clears her throat.
Wordlessly, she takes off her boots, neatly placing them against the wall, and I grin as she turns and faces me.
“Come on. I’ll teach you how to drive in Tomahawk.” She glances at my chest. “And put on a shirt. I don’t need any distractions or you might die anyway.”
Chapter 14
Wild Ones Tip #18
Wild Ones won’t intentionally kill you. But shit happens. Buckle up.
Wear a helmet. Sign a waiver. You know, the usual.
KYLIE
Liam is clutching the oh-shit handle like his life depends on it as I spin another donut, laughing when he hisses out a breath. Mud slings up, and I cut the wheel, blasting music.
I howl into the air as I gas it, then take the next turn, using the perfect momentum to keep us from flipping. Because, I don’t really want to die, obviously.
He finally loosens up and laughs a little, and I drive fast across the muddy field, glad that I left my boots behind, because the mud is viciously slashing inside.
“Where the hell are we?” he asks, as I spin out of another tight circle.
“A Wilder field. They own all the land on this side of the lake other than one little cabin an old lady owns.”
“Old lady?” he asks, having to yell to speak over the music and roar of the engine. “No name? You’re slacking. I thought you knew every local here to share or withhold secrets from.”