Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
The door opened behind him, and in walked another man with a dark brown cowboy hat on his head. I knew that face. Thatcher Shephard. Sebastian’s older brother, who had been accused of murder five years ago, but he’d been found not guilty. The dangerous gleam in his eyes always made me wonder if the jury had been wrong. There was something sinister about Thatcher Shephard. His name always seemed to be spoken with a certain amount of fear and perhaps respect in town. He was so much older than me. I knew very little about him. Just what the news and social media had shared.
“Great. Looks like they’re all here,” Sebastian drawled. He sounded annoyed that his brother was among the older guys.
I turned my head back around and glanced over at Sebastian, who was whispering in Jade’s ear now. His eyes met mine, and he winked. I dropped mine to stare at my half-eaten burger. Sebastian was a flirt, and I was used to it. At first, I’d thought I’d date Sebastian. But Wells was the safer choice.
“He came to watch you play tonight,” Wells said to Sebastian, then reached over to take one of my fries now that his were all gone. “Don’t be a dick.”
“He was only there because Wilder and King were,” Sebastian replied.
The air around us seemed to grow warmer, as if it radiated electricity. I lifted my eyes to look up at the three men standing in front of our booth. While Thatcher stopped at the chair Sebastian was in with Jade to smirk down at his younger brother, Wilder stood directly in the center. His gaze on Wells.
“Dad said you were at the game, but I didn’t see you,” Wells told him, looking pleased by the older guy’s appearance.
“I had to come see what all the talk was about,” Wilder replied. “You definitely got all the athletic talent in the family.”
“Easy,” the guy to his right said. The one I assumed was King. I had only ever heard of one guy named King, and he was a Salazar. “Let’s not forget my time as the Bulldogs QB.”
The Salazars weren’t as wealthy as the Shephards, but they were a close second in town.
Thatcher chuckled. “We haven’t. You won’t fucking let us.”
King rolled his eyes, but my gaze went right back to Wilder’s face. He was hard not to look at. I kept looking for a flaw, but I had yet to find one.
“How long are you here for?” Wells asked him while putting his arm back around my shoulders again.
Wilder shrugged as his gaze shifted from Wells to me. Nothing could have prepared me for the punch having those intense brown eyes locked on mine caused. For a moment, I was afraid I had gasped, but when Wells didn’t seem to notice, I realized my reaction to Wilder had been successfully hidden.
“Oh, Wilder, this is Oakley, my girlfriend. Oakley, meet my cousin, Wilder,” Wells said as he squeezed my shoulder.
Wilder nodded his head once as those eyes held mine. “Nice to meet you, Oakley,” he replied, and then those dark pools released me as he turned his attention back to Wells. “Until Monday.”
“Great! Come to the house tomorrow night. Mom and Dad are headed to Ocala for the weekend. I’m having some friends over.”
It was brief. So very brief that if I hadn’t been so focused on every breath the man took, I would have missed it. Wilder’s gaze flickered to me before glancing at King to his right and Thatcher to his left.
“Yeah, we’ll stop by,” he finally said, looking back at Wells.
And although he didn’t so much as glimpse in my direction again, it felt as if his complete focus was on me.
Four
Wilder
Present Day
Sarah sat on the sofa with her favorite fuzzy pink blanket over her, Belladonna tucked in close to her side, while smiling down at her phone. There had been very little smiling from her lately. I didn’t know if I should be trying to make her smile or respecting that she was mourning her mother’s death. I wasn’t sure what the hell I was supposed to be doing. We had been here for almost a month now, and I kept thinking tomorrow would be better, but it never was.
When Sarah started texting, the smile on her face remained, and I watched her, relieved to see some of the little girl that had been there before Sylvia took her own life. This month hadn’t been easy, and I felt like I was failing my daughter at every turn. I’d spent two hours on Amazon last night, looking for books on how to handle this correctly. Three books were on the way, and I intended to read them from front to back.
Sarah put her phone down and lifted her gaze back to the television. She was watching cheerleaders in pink uniforms and teenagers with green hair in some weird burst-into-song movie. I handed over the remote to her in the evenings. I rarely watched television anyway.