Page 77 of Wilder

The idle chit chat was making me antsy, my patience wearing thinner with each passing second. Storming down the steps and hauling Wilder away wasn’t exactly an option, though, considering Sully would absolutely follow after us.

He wasn’t the kind of man to let things slide. Or stop himself from demanding answers.

“It wasn’t bad,” I replied. “Was nice for Laken and Dallas to pick me up.”

Sully nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They were pretty eager to snag you. Glad to see you all made it back in one piece.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Trust me, it was a close call for a second there.”

At that, Sully let out an amused laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time they volunteer themselves as chauffeurs.”

Rolling up onto my feet, I watched in real time as Wilder’s shoulders stiffened.

As much as I wanted to stick around and continue to beat around the bush to stave off the inevitable, the second Sully picked up on the way Wilder was standing there silent as a damn statue, that easy amusement was going to flip to suspicion real quick.

My boots thunked against the steps as I traipsed them, both hands slipping into my pockets when I finally turned back to Wilder. “You got a sec? I wanted to show you something in the stables.”

His brows knitted together instantly, a barely-there frown pulling at his lips.

I didn’t wait for a reply, just tipped my chin toward the path and spun on my heel, taking off toward the stables.

I had no doubts he’d follow after me. Not just out of curiosity’s sake, which I knew would eat at him until he got an answer, but because I was taking him to someplace a little more public than asking for permission to come into his house to talk.

As much as I wanted to drag him to a closed off, private space, backing him into a corner like that was only going to make him more skittish.

None of this was meant to be some kind of disarming tactic but, in the end, it would end up working in my favor, nonetheless.

Arriving at the stables for the second time today, I caught the unmistakable echo of Wilder’s boots trailing after me, each measured step falling into place just a few beats behind my own.

Right on cue.

A sliver of pride bloomed in my chest, a small, smug part of me giving myself a metaphorical pat on the back. I had been right—he was too curious not to follow. Even if he was skeptical, despite the possibility of not exactly trusting whatever the hell I was dragging him into, he still came.

I was starting to know that man like the back of my hand.

His gaze burned into the back of my head as I led him straight to the alcove where I’d left both the note and the bottle of weed killer sitting right on top of the feed barrel’s lid.

“This is what I wanted to show you.”

I came to an abrupt stop, my boots sliding slightly against the dusty concrete.

Both my note and the weed killer were gone.

What the⁠—?

I scanned the space quickly. I’d definitely left both sitting right there.

Behind me, Wilder slowed, his voice right next to my ear when he spoke. “The feed barrels?”

Shit.

What were the chances Carter had the balls to come back around and snatch both to cover his tracks?

If I had caught him right in the middle of whatever the hell he’d been doing, it would only make sense for him to try to get rid of any evidence left behind.

The bastard had probably been watching the stables, waiting for me to leave before sneaking back in and taking both. An hour ago, all I’d been thinking about was heading back up to the main house to make sure I caught Wilder before he got roped into something else.

I never considered Carter would come back to hide the evidence.