It’s so fucking warm here. He’s been working today, and his scent is a mix of sweat and something really, really appealing. I want to lean in closer and breathe it in, but even I know that’s crossing boundaries.
I might live out in the wild, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have manners.
Mostly.
Even if it is really hard to remember that with him so damn close.
“We’ll have to figure out a way to hide the containers so that they don’t ruin the luxury angle we’re going for. And if we can get some electricity hardwired in, at least as a backup, that would be good too. I doubt there’s much out this way, but I’ll find out whatever I can for you. Oh! Maybe you could come into town with me one day this week? I don’t really know what I’m looking for, so I’d probably need you to help me with the search. Then we can make a plan? Yeah?”
He looks over at me, almost nose to nose, and I’m trying to keep my expression as anything other than terrified. Terrified that I’m dangerously close to licking him, yes, but also terrified by everything he said. He wants me to … go into town. With him. Where the people are.
Lots and lots of people.
It’s been so long. The most I encounter these days are the Wilde’s End residents at the Cutty—our town bar—and eventhen, outside of holidays, there’s only a handful of people there at any one time. Plus, I know everyone out here.
Going to Wayward. Away from my protective bubble. It’s … unimaginable.
But then I think of the long drive and being huddled up next to Kennedy while we look at his computer. And all those worries? All those stressors and triggers and every reason not to just … leave my head. All I can concentrate on is dancing, green eyes under the excited tilt to his eyebrows.
I’m nodding before I’m aware I’m nodding.
Kennedy’s smiling before he’s probably aware he’s smiling.
Then the one voice I’m hoping we won’t hear today comes from behind us both.
“Well, this looks cozy.”
CHAPTER
SIX
KENNEDY
Ialmost swallow my damn tongue. Warning alarms go off in my head, telling me not to turn around, because if I go on pretending I can’t hear him, he’ll go away.
And definitely not stab me in the back. Literally.
Considering he had no issue with stabbing Wilde in thefront, I have no clue why I’d assume that plan would work.
Ziggy pulls away from me before I can test out my theory, and it’s hard not to be frustrated when it felt like I was getting through to him. This little thread of connection was building between us, and as soon as Lynx spoke, it snapped. I want to kick him for ruining it.
Though it’s hard to be pissed when I’m worried about my life.
“Why did you bring him here?” Lynx asks, and I hurry to turn around too.
Ziggy stares him down, and instinct makes me angle myself in front of him.
Lynx is blocking our way out of the container, and his stupid bobcat is sitting behind him.
“He was showing me something,” I say, trying to keep my tone light, even as my pulse picks up at the sight of them. “It’s okay though. We aren’t hanging around. I think I’ve seen everything I need to.”
Lynx’s glare turns on me. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“I was just explain?—”
Beside me, Ziggy huffs and elbows me out of the way.
Lynx actually laughs. “Ziggy can speak for himself.”
