Page 59 of Wild As Her

Cami, completely unbothered, goes right back to sipping her drink, like she didn’t just set fire to the guy and run him off.

I don’t move. I don’t breathe. I just stare at her. The woman who is supposed to be my enemy. The woman who fights me at every turn and drives me insane defended me.

And she did that without knowing I was watching. She turns back to her drink, acting like she didn’t just do the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

And suddenly, I have a serious fucking problem. Because I don’t justwantCami. I need her. I move before I can talk myself out of it, cutting across the bar until I’m right behind her.

She senses me before she sees me, stiffening slightly before turning, raising a slow, teasing eyebrow. “Well, if it isn’t Bridger Falls’ most eligible bachelor,” she drawls, taking a sip of herdrink. “You here to sign autographs, or are you still pretending to be too cool for your adoring fans?”

I cross my arms, desperately trying to keep my shit together. “Didn’t know I needed a bodyguard, Cami.”

Realization flashes across her face that I heard, and she looks away for a moment.

“You don’t,” she says lightly. “I just really wanted to ruin that guy’s night.”

“Uh-huh.”

She smirks.

I should leave it there. Shouldn’t push. But I’m not built like that. Not when it comes to her. I step closer. Not touching, but close enough that I know she feels it.

Close enough that I can smell her: vanilla, whiskey, and something warm that’s just… her.

“You always go around defending me?” I murmur.

She lifts her drink. “I defend all helpless creatures.”

I chuckle, low and slow. “Helpless?”

She shrugs. “What else would you call a man stuck on a reality dating show he clearly doesn’t want to be on?”

Touché.

“Look at you,” I say, tilting my head. “Acting all unbothered right now.”

She smirks again, but this time, it flickers, just for a second.

And that’s when I know. She cares. Maybe she doesn’t want to. Maybe she hates she does. But she does.

And I like that way too much.

I lean in, dropping my voice low. “Kinda sounds like you like me, Wilder.”

She scoffs, flustered. “You wish, Jessop.”

Oh, I do. I really, really do. And that’s a whole other problem entirely.

She huffs, turning back to her drink. “You’re lucky, you know.”

I lift a brow. “How’s that?”

She flicks a glance at me. “Because if anyone’s gonna talk shit about you in this town, it’s me. And I’m not sharing.”

I lean against the bar beside her, close enough that our arms brush when she lifts her drink. She doesn’t pull away. Neither do I.

"Come on," I murmur, voice low. "Admit it."

She takes a slow sip of her whiskey, her gaze locked on the mirror behind the bar like she doesn’t even see me standing here. "Admit what?"

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