I just sit there, feeling more and more guilty with each passing second. I can’t believe I just did that because it’s seriously stooping low.
“There’s no way,” he states again. “I would have seen that.”
“Well…” I can’t seriously be considering letting him off the hook, can I?
I mean, I do feel bad about what I did. It was stooping real freaking low, and there’s a chance Wilder was telling me the truth about just looking for a room. He just wants to go for a walk. Could it really be that bad? I could always take Connie, put her chair on, and pay more attention to her than to him. Let him do all the talking and evade him after for the next six months or until I can chase him out of the house. He clearly hasn’t found the plastic spider yet. I’m so disappointed. I was sure I’d hear some chaos late last night, but there was nothing.
“Well, I guess maybe I was a little bit harsh with the hair,” I hear myself say. “It’s virtually impossible to cook anything without there being at least one. Maybe I should have said two hairs. Uh, I guess that…uh…”
Wilder puts his nose up and sniffs suddenly. I lean back in my chair, but no, he’s not smelling me. And come to think of it, I smell something burning now too.
“Shoot!” He runs back into the kitchen, and a few seconds later, I hear coughing, choking, and the window sliding open.
I put my hand over my mouth to keep my laughter in. This is not funny. I do not laugh at other people. This is bad, and I’m being mean.
I’m surprised when Wilder comes into the dining room a few minutes later with a plate and a very scorched-looking black lump. He sits down across from me, gives me a funny look, reaches for the bottle of hot sauce, and applies it liberally.
We eat in silence, and my guilt reaches unbearable levels.
To his credit, Wilder eats every bite of the burned omelet.
“So?” He looks up after his plate is clean. “Are we walking, or you’re not going to let me get away with that hair after all?”
“I am pretty sure the hair is yours.” I cross my fingers under the table like a bad little kid. “Uh, since I basically meant animal hair, I guess you’re getting away with it. We can go for a walk around the black, but only because Connie needs one. Yes?”
“Yup!” Wilder’s grin pretty much melts me to my seat, and I feel his grin straight to my toes, weak knees, and stomach. Umm, even directly to my lady cave and other lady parts too.
Damn it, Pappy S. You knew exactly what you were doing here. The other ones were a mistake, but this one? He’s nice, he’s insanely attractive, and I think he likes animals, minus spiders. He’ll even attempt the impossible just because he’s asked.
I carry my empty plate to the kitchen and then race off to the living room for Connie’s chair and leash. I refuse to be excited about this walk. Flat. Out. Refuse. I refuse to be excited about anything when it comes to men.
I have to remember that all men are chicken legs who stick their…yeah, you know what I mean. All of them, at least in my experience. Twice burned, never going there again. Fool me once, fool me twice, fuck my life? Wait, that isn’t how it goes, but whatever. The fact is, Wilder is of the male variety, and members of the male variety are not to be trusted. I have to remember that, no matter how nice they are, how pretty their smile, how gorgeous their form, or how good their omelets are.
Farge on a barge and kickin’ chicken, I feel like my own eggs have been scrambled, and I seriously don’t like it. I dislike that I have zero control over how my body reacts to Wilder. Less than zero actually. And I have no idea how to get it to stop.
CHAPTER 10
Wilder
I can for sure say why this walk is so important, even if Esme is doing exactly what I told her she couldn’t do when we agreed to the challenge, which I did fail, so maybe she can do whatever she very well wants to. She’s powerwalking up ahead while her little fluffy dog walks along in a pink cart-like contraption with huge wheels that makes up for her front legs being so much shorter than the back.
This walk is so important because I want to fulfill my part of the bargain with Silas. I can’t be Esme’s friend if I don’t get to know her, and I can’t earn her trust if she doesn’t give me a chance. By right, she doesn’t have to give me even that. I know I have to earn it, which is what I’m trying to do.