Page 60 of Wilder

I hated being kept in the dark, feeling like there was some giant wall between us when there never used to be. We’d spent our whole lives knowing everything about each other, never needing to guess what the other was thinking or feeling.

Up until we both decided we weren’t interested in continuing school and wanted to head out into the real world instead, we’d been on the same wavelength.

He sighed, his breath tickling my ear. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to ditch you yesterday. You seemed like you were in a funk so I wanted to leave you alone.”

I nearly rolled my eyes. “You asshole. That’s when you’re supposed to be up in my business.”

Honestly, he was so lucky I was the older twin, because what the fuck was that logic?

He thought the best thing to do when I was upset was to leave me alone?

The military was not only making him a meathead, it was turning him stupid, too.

“You can’t possibly tell me you would’ve wanted to go out with me last night.”

I shoved him back. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to let him know he was being a dumbass. “I might have if you asked!”

“You barely said two words to me all day.’

“Oh, sue me for being sad we couldn’t all be home for Christmas for the first time since we were literally born.”

A smile tugged at his lips.

He reached over to ruffle my hair, dragging his fingers through it and getting them tangled in the thick, wavy strands. “You’re such a sap. Let me guess: you would’ve wanted us to wallow together while watching those Christmas movies that have all the warm and fuzzy holiday crap, right? Torturing ourselves even more.”

I slapped his hand away, running a few quick passes through it to push it out of my eyes. “Is that so much to ask for?’

“I’d rather get laid.”

I lifted my foot, aiming straight for his, but the bastard dodged out of the way just in time.

Damn military training.

“You’re a horn dog,” I grumbled.

Greyson’s smirk deepened, looking far too smug for my liking. “Just admit you didn’t want to go out because you didn’t want anyone hitting on you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why the hell would I care about that?”

“Because of your big, fat crush on your boss.”

The second the words left his mouth, heat flared across my face, coming on so fast I could feel the color creeping up my neck. “Shut up.”

He laughed. “I know I’m right because you look like you’ve got a sunburn. Please tell me you’ve made some progress and aren’t still hopelessly pining from afar.”

What did ‘progress’ even look like in a situation like that?

Was it not avoiding eye contact every time I accidentally met Wilder’s gaze and let mine linger a second too long?

Was it not feeling like my stomach flipped inside out whenever he said my name in that sexy, southern drawl?

Was it not getting absolutely wrecked over the accidental brushes of physical contact we had while working side-by-side?

Because none of that was actually happening.

Or maybe it was finally admitting to myself that this wasn’t just some stupid, passing thing that would go away if I ignored it long enough. Maybe the ‘progress’ my brother was talking about was getting so hung up on him that I physically felt an ache to go back to the ranch that reminded me too much of how deeply I missed Baton Rouge.

Greyson smirked. “See? You can’t even answer me. That’s a bad sign.”