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I’m not attracted to Skylar Wood.
I amnotattracted to Skylar Wood.
First, she’s my brother’s fiancé. And second, she doesn't have that kind of power over me.Not anymore, and I need to make sure she knows that.
Clearing my throat, I keep my eyes trained on her now curious expression.
“Just checking to make sure you're actually alive,” I recover in a gravelly tone.
“How long have you been out here waiting?” Her brows pinch together in worry as she runs her fingers through her long hair.
“A while,” I respond, folding my arms over my chest.
“Everett, how long?” She pushes, placing her hands on her hips.
“Well, we were supposed to be on the road about twenty minutes ago.” I click my tongue, staring down at my watch as I reply.
“Shit,” she exhales. “I had a glass of wine last night. I guess I passed out before setting my alarm.” She shakes her head, furrowing her brows. “I can’t believe I overslept. Ineveroversleep,” she repeats, staring at the ground like she’s deep in thought.
I have to admit, I was starting to get a little worried when she wasn't answering. Skylar is known for her organization, attention to detail, and tedious ability to stay on schedule. I’m sure that’s why Vivian, my cousin, trusted her with the wedding decorations.
“How fast can you be ready?” I sigh. “We need to get on the road as soon as possible. We have about nine hours until the snow and ice is expected to get heavy in New Mexico. I don’t want to get stuck there before we make it to Colorado.”
I’m planning on this being a one-day trip.
This will be a one-day trip.
I’m dropping Skylar off at her hotel room in Denver tonight, come hell or high water.
“I just need to take a quick shower and brush my teeth. Luckily, I packed up yesterday. I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes tops.” I can tell she’s flustered by the way she’s speaking a mile a minute.
“Where are the boxes? And your luggage?” I huff out an annoyed sigh as I brace my hand against the door frame before pushing my way into the condo.
“What?” She stares at me in shock, like I have no right to be standing in her living room right now. Her brows are lifted in shock, as if I didn’t just knock on her door for almost half an hour while she was sound asleep.
“The boxes you're bringing for the wedding. Where are they?” I repeat in a flat tone.
She arches a brow, scoffing at my blunt response.
“Make yourself at home why don’t you,” she quips, gesturing her hand towards the living room as she shuts the door behind me. It’s evident that she’s annoyed I just barged into her space, but I also don’t give a shit because I didn’t ask to be in this situation with her either.
“Home?This place looks like a damn laboratory. Do you really live here, or are you and Elliot into some undercover shit?” I joke.
In all seriousness, who lives like this? Aside from the white couches in the living room and a sleek kitchen table, the place looks vacant. The walls are completely bare, and I don’t think I could find a speck of dirt if I tried. It reminds me of a model home that a realtor would show to a client.Actually,that would probably look more lived-in than this. Maybe they’re going for the modern look, but it honestly just looks sad.Completely lifeless.
“Maybe we are…” She croons. “I guess you have no idea who you’re letting into your truck today.” A wide smirk stretches across her face as she places one hand on her hip.
“Your happy ass is going to be walking to Colorado if you don’t start getting ready,” I counter, a smile threatening the corner of my lips. Her eyes narrow to little slits.
“I just love how you're acting like I begged you to take me. You and I both know that Elliot put us in this situation. So, let’s get one thing straight. I amnotgoing to get in your truck if you keep acting like you're doing me a favor or expecting me to get on my hands and knees in thanks. I won’t put myself through twelve hours of feeling like a burden, especially when I didn’t ask for this in the first place. I’m fully capable of driving myself, Everett.” Her tone quickly turns from playful to irritated.
I choke down a cough, blocking out the image of her on her hands and knees for me. I run a hand through my hair, steadying my breath as I meet her heated eyes, full of blue fire.
“We’ve already had this discussion, Skylar. You’re riding with me,” I exhale. “Now, where are the boxes and your luggage? I’ll pack the truck while you get ready.” I hope my question comes across as a statement, because over my dead body is she driving her little car. Hell, I barely trust myself to make this trip after checking the weather forecast.
“This is going to be the longest twelve hours of my life.” She rolls her eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “They’re over here,” she huffs, walking across the living room and pointing to a wall on the other side of the couch.
Lined up perfectly against the wall are four boxes plus her light pink suitcase, the only pop of color amongst the whites and creams that fill this desolate space. I walk over to the boxes, bending down to gather two of them in my arms.
