Wild Side (Rose Hill, #3)(2)

And I wait.

I take a casual sip of my bubbly water and set it on the counter beside me.

She continues staring at me, and I’m not oblivious to the way her eyes have shifted, following my arms as I cross them in front of me and take her in.

“So,” I say back, with a small twitch of my lips.

She sniffs and straightens, eyes flitting to the side and back. “I’m just going to come out with it. Erika has not had an easy go of it. Her stories are not mine to share. I just need to know that she and her son, Milo, will be safe here.”

I shift slightly. “Okay. My home base is out of the country, and I’m only here now and then. There’s an alarm system though.”

“That’s not the kind of safe I mean.” Her teeth strum at her bottom lip before she sighs. “Listen, I know I’m overstepping, but my sister is just finally in a good place, and I don’t know what she would or wouldn’t… Ugh.” The woman runs an agitated hand through her hair. “I hate myself for asking this, and she’d fucking kill me, but…if you have any drugs stronger than Tylenol, can you please put them somewhere that no one would suspect?”

My brows drop, and I lean forward. “What?”

“Prescription drugs. I want to make sure she won’t have access to them.”

“She’ll be living next door. Not with me.”

Tabitha shrugs and looks away again. “She’s charming and beautiful and finally back on track. Never say never.”

This woman has no clue how deep my trust issues go if she thinks I have designs on my new tenant. “I’m not planning on pursuing your sister.”

She flinches but doesn’t hesitate to look me dead in the eye when she says, “Well, that plan might be one-sided.”

“Are you…” I trail off, unsure of what to say. I have never had a more bizarre conversation with a perfect stranger in my life.

“I am being a snoopy, overprotective sister who has listened to her gush about you for two days. Just nod your head if you understand me, and we can agree to never talk about this again.”

I spent all of maybe thirty minutes around Erika when I first showed her the place. And a few more when I gave her the keys and met her son. She seemed accommodating about managing the mail situation along with the yard and gardens. She was nice. Okay, really nice.

Too nice?

And her kid was cute.

But my head definitely didn’t go there.

Still, I nod.

Tabitha’s palm slaps against the granite countertop, and a triumphant grin emerges on her face. “Excellent. Great. Good talk.” She slides off the stool, but not before taking one longing glance back over the space. “This is a nice kitchen. Nothing better than cooking with a view.”

“You like to cook?”

A soft smile touches her lips now. “You could say that.”

I move past the island, padding across the hardwood floors, drawn to her chaos and unpredictability. But she’s already walking toward the door.

Blowing out the way she blew in. Confident and direct but also… tentative.

You could say that.

It makes me wonder what’s written between the lines of that response. This entire encounter also makes me wonder about her sister’s story.

“Should I be worried about her? Your sister. As a tenant?”

After toeing on her sandals, she straightens and faces me once more. The evening sun filters in from the windows surrounding the front door, casting her features in a warm glow. Her cheeks have a pink tint, like she’s embarrassed for barging in here and oversharing. For interfering.

“She’s a girl who got injured playing volleyball in high school and was prescribed something she shouldn’t have. She’s been low. Really low. But she’s healthy now. She’s gotten help. I swear. She’s a good mom. And she’ll be a good tenant. I promise.”

There’s a plea in her eyes. Determination in the set of her jaw. And underneath it all, I’m too fucking soft to push back. If she needs help this desperately, I can give it.

“Okay.” I dip my chin and shove my hands into the pockets of my gray sweats. We’ve all hit rough patches. Far be it from me to hold that over the head of a woman I barely know.

“But…”

I glance back up slowly, not liking the sound of that but.

“If—and this is a big if—if she ever falls behind on rent, can you please call me? Day, night, whenever. I want her somewhere safe. I want a roof over her head. I want Milo happy and safe. I will pay if it comes to it.”

She slips a business card from her back pocket and holds it out to me. I reach for it—a little too eagerly. My fingers pinch the card stock, and I can see the Bighorn Bistro printed on it, but when I go to pull, she doesn’t let go.

My eyes snap to hers, and I can see the ferocity burning in them. She holds her opposite hand up, pinky finger extended. “Pinky swear.”

“Pinky swear?”

This encounter just keeps getting stranger.

“Yes. Pinky swear to me that you will call me if there’s a problem.”

I hold my pinky up with a deep chuckle. “You know these aren’t legally binding, right?”

Her finger curls around mine as her eyes point like arrows in my direction. “I know, but only a total asshole breaks a pinky promise.”