Page 21 of Stay Wild Darlin’

“You’re wild, darlin’.” Dalton shook his head slowly, eyes still locked on mine, but I didn’t miss the way the corner of his mouth curled into a small, almost reluctant smile. “Listen, Cora’s only five months old. Keeping her stuff here would make things easier on both of you. It’s simpler and less stressful for her if you’re not packing and unpacking every other day.”

I paused, biting my cheek. Damn it, he was making sense. I’d spent my whole life being the lone wolf, fending for myself because no one else would.

Here, I wasn’t simply uprooting. I was moving into a house with a man who looked like he could read every thought, and a baby who needed someone to stay. The thought scared me more than I’d ever admit.

Dalton watched me, those stupidly gorgeous eyes patient and waiting. “Let’s let this crowd go home, and I’ll show you around real quick.”

“Fine,” I finally huffed, jabbing a finger at Fable. “You owe me endless coffee and at least one girls’ night. Nonnegotiable.”

“Deal,” she said, pulling me in for a quick hug. “He’s a good guy, I promise.”

One by one, they trickled out, leaving Dalton and me in a room that suddenly felt five sizes too small. I turned around to find him leaning against the doorframe, hands shoved in his pockets, and his gaze sliding up and down.

“You goo—” he started, but I cut him off with a quick flick of my hand toward the hallway.

“You gonna show me where I’m staying, or do I need to drag my suitcases in by myself?” I arched an eyebrow. “Because, trust me, they’re not exactly light as feathers, and I sure as fuck didn’t lug them all this way for fun.”

Dalton guided me down the hallway, flipping on a light as we went. The walls were gray, the carpet was gray—honestly, everything was gray. Even the light felt gray, like this place was allergic to any color that might liven it up.

“Is there a color scheme here, or did you go with ‘rain-cloud chic’?” I asked dryly, running my fingers along the blank wall. “I’m definitely dragging you to a thrift store and picking up some fake plants or something.”

He tossed me a sideways glance. “Didn’t exactly have a ton of time for interior design,” he muttered, though a tiny smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

We passed a closed door, and he nodded toward it. “That’s Cora’s room. She’s sleeping. Might hear her tonight if she stirs. Next is the bathroom.”

I poked my head around the frame. “Very . . . gray,” I commented, noting the same dull walls and bland tiles.

Dalton huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Guess I need a new decorator.”

He moved us along to another door, his hand resting on the handle as he said, “And this is . . . well, you know—my bedroom. Where the magic happens.”

I gagged exaggeratedly. “Gross,” I said, rolling my eyes for good measure.

He chuckled, low and warm, and yeah, I hated that the sound sent a tiny zing of awareness through me.

We walked on a little farther until he stopped at another door. He pushed it open, flicking the light switch, revealing a decent-sized room with a single mattress lying on the floor. A connecting bathroom door stood open, showing more gleaming, boring gray tile. That was it. No dresser, no table, zero personality.

A small snort of laughter escaped me as I took it all in. “Wow, so you really committed to that no-furniture theme, huh?”

Dalton cleared his throat, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “Well, you heard Fable, Beau’s dad is dropping off some stuff tomorrow.” He paused, shrugging. “I technically don’t have to leave until tomorrow evening, but⁠—”

I waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll make it work,” I said, even though my brain was screaming, What the hell did you sign up for?

He stood in the doorway, looking like he wanted to say something else. His gaze flicked to the lock on the inside of the door, then to another door at the far end of the room. “This door locks, just so you know. That door over there leads out back—if you need air or something.”

I nodded, noticing a small fridge and microwave in the corner. Well, at least I wouldn’t starve in the middle of the night.

Dalton swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, then offered me a short nod. “I, uh, I’ll grab your bags,” he mumbled, turning and disappearing back down the hall before I could formulate a sarcastic reply.

As he left, I let out a breath. Gray walls, a mattress on the floor, a brand-new job with a boss I’d just met, and a five-month-old baby who needed me. What could possibly go wrong?

Dalton reappeared, lugging my suitcases behind him.

“Thanks,” I muttered, grabbing the handles and rolling them into the room.

He handed me a stack of sheets, and our fingers brushed, sending a weird little jolt through me. I quickly pulled back.

“These are clean,” he said simply.