There’s a question in his brow, that makes me ask, “And yet .?.?.”
He lifts a brow with a grin, pleased that I can read him.
And it’s so sexy, I almost forget what we’re talking about. “And yet, something is off with your claim that you’re just like that seventy percent of people.”
“You think I’m different.”
“Iknowyou’re different.”
We turn onto the corner where his truck is parked. There’s a bar that looks slightly more upscale than Bones. But not more appealing. A group of women are crowding the front. One smoking a cigarette, the other two laughing. All three are blonde and beautiful.
Wilder pauses, and there’s a shift in his vibe I pick up on. It’s so abrupt it almost hurts.
“Wilder,” I whisper, looking up at him.
He releases a slow breath. “Come on,” he mutters low, nudging his head toward his truck, only one storefront away from the girls.
“Bon,” one of the girls starts, her tone almost a warning.
Instantly, I know who she is.
Why Wilder stopped and wants to get out of here.
It’s her. The woman he was ready to give up everything for.
The woman who betrayed him and gave him up in return.
I pretend I don’t see her when we draw close and press myself against Wilder’s hard frame, slipping my arm around his back.
Like I’m made to be under the crook of his arm, he tugs me close, with a subtle furrow of his brows.
“Wilder,” the blonde I can only imagine to be Bonnie says when we reach them.
Of course her voice is perfect. Angelic with a hint of gruff.
“Hello, Bonnie.”
Her eyes are on me, and I give her a small wave and a pretty smile. “Hi there, I’m Rose.”
Bonnie perks a brow. “Ya’ll look cozy.” Her comment isn’t directed at me.
“Good to see you.”
“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your new girl?”
I prepare for Wilder to tell Bonnie and her friends that I’m nothing more than his employee, his best friend’s sister.
“She just did that,” he says flatly. “This is Rose. And we’re on our way home. Excuse us.”
The two girls step aside, but Bonnie doesn’t move. She scans me just before Wilder takes my hand and walks around her.
When we reach his truck, I plant myself in front of the passenger door. My eyes are on his lips as I tug him close.
“Rose,” he warns. “Not doing this. I’m not using you to get to her.”
“What if I’m using her to get to you?”
His eyes drop to my lips, but he still hesitates. It’s a struggle, like he wants to but is holding back.
