Page 59 of Dream Chaser
It’s Skinner.
Big, broad, brooding Skinner, dressed in all-black with snow clinging to his boots and intensity simmering behind his eyes.
“We need to talk,” he says, voice low, jaw set.
My brain short-circuits. “What are you even— No. We’re not doing this now.”
He doesn’t move. Just waits.
I huff and spin toward the stairs. “Fine. Whatever. Follow me.”
I don’t look back to see if he’s behind me, but I feel it—the weight of him, the heat of something unfinished pulsing between us as we climb toward a conversation I’m not sure I’m ready for. Not because I’m scared of him. But because if I don’t get to Wile in the next thirty seconds, he’s going to assume I’ve abandoned him to die inside the damn wall and never trust me again. I speed up, taking the stairs two at a time.
“I have to—hang on,” I call over my shoulder.
I reach the top and immediately hear it.
A low, pitiful whine. A heavy thud. Another whine.
“Shit,” I mutter, turning the corner, almost tripping over the boxes I lugged up, and run to the little door, which is apparently camouflaged to look like a bookshelf.
Skinner’s voice echoes behind me. “Is there a dog … in the damn wall?”
“Don’t you judge him,” I snap, frustrated that I left the ramp downstairs as I open the door.
There’s a beat of silence, and then Skinner starts laughing—real, chest-shaking, startled laughter.
“Jesus, Izzy,” he says, still chuckling. “I came here to have a conversation and instead I find you rescuing a geriatric mutt from whatever the hell that is.”
I shoot him a glare over my shoulder. “I forgot the ramp and the jerky. Make yourself useful and stand here so this ‘geriatric mutt,’ who happens to be my pup Wile, the best birthday present ever, doesn’t think he can walk out and end up with?—”
“A broken hip?” He laughs harder now.
“Don’t be a dick.” I step back, and he takes my place.
Before I am halfway to the door, I hear, “Tell her you don’t need a damn ramp.”
I turn and see Skinner holding Wile’s eighty-pound self like he’s nothing and setting him on the ground. Then he crouches down and pets him. When Wile licks his face, he chuckles.
Dammit, Wile.
“All right, my boy, let’s show you around.”
“Pretty sure I proved last night I’m no boy, but?—”
“I saidmyboy.” I point to Wile as he drops his traitorous ass on Griffon’s foot.
“Gonna guess he takes offense to being called a boy, too.” Griffon smirks.
Flustered, I turn as I throw my hands in the air. “As you can see, I’m very busy, and you …” I pause, trying to figure out what to even say. “Don’t you have your meeting and a plane to catch?” I turn on the water and fill Wile’s bowl.
“Meeting’s first thing Monday morning, and I’m not flying out until Tuesday. Which means I got all night to wait for you to stop fucking around and allow yourself to look at me.”
Oh my God.
Chapter 14
Her Place
