Page 18 of The Sun and the Moon
Hername.
“Are you back there?” The voice must be Moira’s.
Candence points toward the back door, holding her finger up to her lips with a big-eyed plea. Whatever’s going on here, I have to find out. And—okay—I’m a bit taken in by the desperation in her face and the way her curls tuck around the buttons on her jean jacket. I give her a swift nod, pushing off the refrigerator and walking as quietly as possible toward the back door. Cadence is on my tail, so silent and stealthy she makes me think of how a cat moves across a countertop minefield.
I’m reaching for the door handle when her arm shoots around me, grabbing it first and giving it a hasty twist. I nearly tumble out the door, with her close behind, and she pulls it closed behind us with a light puff.
“That way,” she says, her voice still low. She never stops moving, so neither do I. “I know a place.”
“Then you’ll explain your psychosis?” I ask.
“Something like that.”
My eyes eat up the view as I follow her around the edge of the yard to a small gate in the fence. Her hair color reminds me of the way the sky looks at midnight. There’s a certain sheen to it, a glow almost, and as she moves, the thick tendrils shift, some taking on an almost aubergine hue. She’s tall, with long and lean limbs, a trim but sturdy silhouette. Her ass is taut. Her fingernails aren’t painted. I don’t think she has on much makeup, either. Not that she needs it.
She’s gorgeous in this ruggedI just came in from the trailswindswept and wild sort of way. But she also seems to have some kind of mommy issue that could help me unravel the reason for this marriage—maybe even enough to stop it altogether.
If it needs to be stopped, that is.
The gate opens up to an alley that we take around to a side street, where a small SUV is parked. “Get in,” she orders. I cross my arms. “Please.”
“Only if you promise not to murder me.”
Her eyebrow, just the left one, curls up. “I always thought it was stupid in movies when people did that.” She yanks open the driver’s-side door. “If I was going to kill you, what difference would a promise make?”
She drops into the driver’s seat as a thrill wriggles through me.
Chapter Nine
Cadence
Sydney Sinclair sounds like a stage name. If I didn’t already know she was a pilot, I’d think she was an actress, seconds away from her big break.
She’s that gorgeous.
Tan skin, dirty-blond hair, big blue eyes, and pouty lips. Her body is ridiculous. Curves for days, a compact frame, immaculately manicured nails, and chic style. Basically the opposite of me in every way imaginable.
The reality that I’m attracted to her makes me feel a more intense urgency to convince her to maintain the secret of where we actually met as long as possible. Moira will sense my interest—it’s hard to imagine a person whowouldn’tbe interested.
“You two need anything else?” the waitress asks. Her eyes slip over Sydney.
Interested.
“We’re all set,” Sydney replies, flashing a toothy smile. The waitress looks desperate to linger. But I have a case to make.
“Thanks so much,” I say too curtly. “We’ll let you know if that changes.”
Her mouth tugs closed into an almost scowl, but it does the trick. She walks away, swinging her tray, mousy-brown ponytail bobbing.
“Alright, I’m all ears,” Sydney says. “Explain yourself.” She takes a sip of her lavender latte. A rim of foam lingers on her upper lip, and she uses the tip of her tongue to lick it away
I force my focus to her eyes, away from her lips. “First of all, I would like to apologize for grabbing you back there. That was inappropriate.”
“But kinda fun,” she says, winking at me. I blink, too stunned to speak for a second. The ease she seems to have—with me, the waitress, simplyexisting—makes my brain feel itchy. “I’m just curious why you freaked out so fully and then rushed us out of the house before I could get a look at your mother.”
“More like beforeshecould get a look atyou,” I correct.
“Okay, intriguing,” she says. Her lips turn down at the edges in what seems to be an almost perpetual frown shape. When she curls them up, the effect is mischievous.
