Page 5 of First Verse

I should say yes to a date with Eddie. He’s objectively attractive, talented, and kind. Despite the fact I essentially threw myself at him that night—I might have also begged him to take my virginity—he’s never made me feel uncomfortable or brought it up since.

In a perfect world, I’d be smitten with him. But my world is chaos.

“Sorry, Eddie. I don’t think it’s a good idea to mess with our working dynamic.”

To my relief, he lives up to my opinion of him when I see disappointment but no anger in his eyes. “I figured. No hard feelings, Eva. See you next week?”

Probably not.

I nod and give him a hug, aware that the next time he and Jax hear my name, they’ll probably curse it.

Over Eddie’s shoulder, I spot Wilder and Rye chatting. The groupies have been dismissed, which shouldn’t please me but does.

Like he can feel my gaze, Wilder turns his head. Before our stares can connect, I jerk away from Eddie and make a beeline for the door.

CHAPTER TWO

evangeline

If I had a dollar for every time

You almost touched me

I’d give my fortune to the wind

Cause unlike me she can move

Move against your skin

Curls of steam lift from the glowing surface of the hot tub. Water ripples decadently around my bare shoulders. Above me, strands of string lights bisect a sky framed by evergreens. The neighborhood is quiet at 2:00 a.m., so quiet that if I close my eyes, I can almost believe I’m in a peaceful, remote forest.

My peace shatters as the back slider on my two-bedroom bungalow slams open and Wilder storms onto my deck.

I sit up fast, my stomach somersaulting as I quickly cross my arms over my naked chest. “What the hell! What are you doing here? I gave you a key for emergencies only!”

“This is a fucking emergency,” he growls. Both hands clenched in his hair, he paces back and forth across the deck, each footstep a resounding thud. “Tell me it’s bullshit. Tell me you’re not thinking about quitting.”

My breath stills, a near-crushing weight settling on my chest. Goddammit, Rye. I shouldn’t have left him at the party unsupervised, not with Wilder there. Rye is shit at keeping secrets, and Wilder is a master at spotting and extracting them.

I open my mouth with no idea what I’m going to say, but Wilder continues, “Is this about what happened in Vegas? I already said I was sorry. I was drunk, okay? It’s not an excuse, just an explanation. I fucked up. Simple as that. You said you forgave me.”

He stops suddenly, his chest heaving. Two steps bring him to the edge of the sunken hot tub. “What do I have to do? Do you want me to beg?”

My jaw drops as he lowers to his knees and clasps his hands over his chest.

“Wilder—stop. Get up.”

His eyes veer downward, then widen and jerk back up. “You’re naked.”

“No shit,” I snap. “I thought I was home alone.”

Sagging backward so his weight rests on his feet, he whispers, “Please don’t do this.”

None of this is going how I wanted it to, but on the heels of that thought is the realization that it was never going to happen according to any plan I made—nothing with this man ever does.

“Grab my robe,” I tell him. “Behind you on the chair.”

He drags himself to his feet and fetches my robe, then holds it open and averts his eyes from my body. Bitterness makes my teeth grind as I step out of the water and snatch it from him, then slip into it. Once the belt is tied, I push past him and walk into the house.