“My boots,” I say again. “I have to—”
“I’ll go get them as soon as I get you inside.”
I smile for no real reason. “They’re in—”
“They’re in a box inside a chest that is latched and resting in Penny’s yard. I know. I told you I stalked you all day and night.”
He looks down as I try really hard not to kiss him, and he grins at me. “Stalker game is about to get strong.”
For no reason at all, I giggle.
I freaking giggle.
God help me.
Chapter 13
Wild Ones Tip #4
A Wild Woman always takes her hair seriously, but only the girls know why.
LIAM
I have an ace in the hole, but I’m saving it, hoping it doesn’t come down to me winning her over with something superficial to keep her.
She walks out wearing my boxers—that are rolled at the waist several times most likely, hence the reason they’re so short—and a T-shirt that hides them from sight. Her hair is wet, and it makes her look entirely different, because it’s more wavy than curly.
“It dries frizzy if I don’t have my hair stuff for the ringlets to form,” she sighs.
I already know this, of course, because I spent every waking moment with her for three mind-fucking weeks. Even though I was in excruciating pain, those were the best three weeks of my life.
Which tells you just how stale my life had gotten.
“I have all the hair stuff you need in the bathroom down the hall. I remembered all your girly shit from when you were at my house.”
Her eyebrows knit together.
“You bought my hair supplies?”
I shrug. “You were vicious when it came to your hair.” I mock a shudder, and she laughs. “Since I wanted to have you over here as often as possible, I stocked up on supplies.”
Her hesitant smile forms, and I lean back, studying her. As always. I hate trying to figure her out, because she always throws me a curve ball right when I think I’m having a break through.
She glances at my laptop near the table.
“How’s the wifi?” she asks with a small grin.
I battle my own smile.
“Slow as fuck, but serves its purpose. I only need it on occasion.”
She darts a glance to the Loki sculpture that’s proudly sitting on a stand, but then her eyes take in all the art on the walls, and a small breath passes through her lips. It’s all the things she painted while she was at my house.
Which is a lot. Kylie paints fast. And she paints more when she’s trapped inside.
She clears her throat, bringing her eyes back to mine. “Still have an Audi?” she asks, surprising me with the random shift in conversation.
My lips twist in wry amusement as I shake my head. “No. Realized early on four-wheel drive was a necessity, since, when it rains, the dirt sections of the road get really muddy and impossible to drive through. Killian and Hale went with me to trade it in on a Jeep.”
She perks right up. “You have a Jeep?”
I nod slowly.
“Then I guess I need to show you how to drive it.”
My eyebrows go up as she stands.
“I know how to drive it,” I tell her as she heads to the bathroom.
“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.