Across the Vanishing Sky (Starlight Grove, #1)(19)

The tension in Wylder’s shoulders eased a bit but not all the way. “You’re just too easy to read. You call in sick anytime you’re here with friends the night before or the fish are biting.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your psychic powers away from me,” Aidan said with a laugh. “Even if you do look all hot as hell when you’re mind-melding people.”

There was something here—something in the interplay that had just occurred, the reaction to the word evil. But I wasn’t sure what it was.

“So,” Wylder said, bringing my focus back to him. “Can you start tomorrow?”

A grin split my face. “Seriously?”

“One-week trial. You do good, you become a permanent hire. You in?”

“I am so in,” I agreed quickly.

Cora patted my shoulder. “Welcome aboard.” She glanced down at my feet. “I recommend sneakers tomorrow.”

“Noted.” The fact that I could wear my lucky Converse that Owen had decorated for me was a definite bonus. I glanced at Wylder. “Is there a dress code?”

“Dress code for what?” a deep voice asked—a familiar deep voice. Something about the tenor. It had a frequency all its own that made my skin pebble in anticipation.

I turned, taking in my hot, unhinged neighbor. He’d obviously showered and wore jeans that hugged thick thighs—likely a by-product of those morning runs—and a worn T-shirt with writing so faded I couldn’t make it out. And the glasses were back. Damn, those glasses.

But beneath them, I took in the dark-hazel eyes full of suspicion. The emotion was only amplified by the lines of tension bracketing his mouth. Apparently, my neighbor was just as unhappy to see me here as he was at the cabin he’d thought was his. The only problem was, I was here first.

“Are you following me?” I accused, a hint of humor lacing my words. I couldn’t help poking the grumpy bear.

The man glowered in my direction. “It’s my brother’s bar. What’s your excuse?”

Oh, hell.

That meant my hot, grumpy-as-hell neighbor would be in here. Possibly a lot. But I didn’t let that make me falter. I jutted out my chin. “I work here.”

“You hired her?” the man demanded, clearly disbelieving.

“Jesus, Dex, what’s your deal?” Wylder asked.

Dex. It fit him somehow. Short, to the point, and a little harsh but still sexy as hell.

“Newsflash, neighbor, just because you think I’m the worst doesn’t mean everyone does,” I informed him.

Cora let out a strangled laugh. “What’d you do, Dex?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Dex began.

“He broke into my house and flashed me,” I said, completely nonchalant, knowing it would just piss Dex off.

He gaped at me. “That…that isn’t even remotely true.”

“Dude, you can get arrested for that shit,” Aidan muttered.

I arched a brow at Dex. “Isn’t it true?”

He glared at me. “You are the worst.”

I grinned. “I’m afraid that’s you, Bird Poop Boy.” I shot Cora and Wylder a wave. “See you tomorrow.”

And with that, I left Dex to explain. It served him right, the grumpy pants.





8





DEX





My eldest brother stared at me for a long beat and then burst out laughing. “Bird Poop Boy?”

I scowled at him. “It’s a long story.”

Aidan slapped me on the shoulder. “It always is, man. Looks like that one’s keeping you on your toes.”

I didn’t miss the unspoken question beneath his words—one that had my skin suddenly feeling too tight for my body. But Wylder saved me from having to say anything.

“Aidan…if you cost me another waiter or waitress because you broke their heart, I will put you on bathrooms for the rest of the year.”

It was Wylder’s dumb luck that his biggest flirt of a staff member had interest in both men and women. It doubled the potential issues if the relationship didn’t work out.

Aidan’s jaw went slack. “The rest of the year? Cruel and unusual punishment, boss man.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “More like you’re on your ninth life.”

One corner of Aidan’s mouth kicked up. “Just call me cat boy.”

“Both of you, get back to work before I decide the stockroom needs a full reorg,” Wylder shot back at the two of them.

Aidan saluted and took off for one side of the restaurant, while Cora just shook her head and moved toward the other.

Wylder’s focus zeroed in on me, his dark-hazel gaze so similar to mine—and someone else’s. A person we wanted no ties to. But there was a different quality to Wylder’s. Something sharper than the rest of ours. He put together pieces others missed and could give my profiler friends in the Behavioral Analysis Unit a run for their money.

“Beer?” he finally asked.

Of course he didn’t go in with whatever question he actually wanted to ask. I gave him the play. Sliding onto a stool, I rested my arms on the bar. “Pass on the beer but wouldn’t mind a Coke.”

Wylder’s hands moved without him looking. He could’ve poured half the drinks in this bar with a blindfold. But that’s what happened when you worked in the same place for a couple years shy of two decades.