Page 10 of Chasing Wildflowers
“Lane, this is Jameson, he’s from out of town, so I asked him to join us,” Kam yells over the music.
I extend my hand, offering a polite, almost apologetic smile. "Sorry if I came off a little rude earlier. I was driving all day and needed a quick drink before heading to the motel."
Kam’s head whips between us so fast that for a split second, I’m afraid she’s going to give herself a concussion. “Wait! You two have met before?”
Lane ignores her, eyes locking with mine. A flicker of uncertainty flashes, before she slips her hand into mine. The warmth of her skin is electrifying, a jolt that shoots straight through me. That's nothing compared to the shock to my system when her perfume hits me, lavender and bergamot. Sweet. Soft. Addictive.
My jaw clenches tight and I almost groan. Fuck. I bet she tastes as good as she smells.
She pulls her hand back and something in her eyes tells me the contact had the same effect on her. “What brings you to New Haven?”
I bite back a grimace. “I’m a land surveyor.” Leave it to Miles to pick the world’s dullest cover story. He’s going to fucking pay for that one.
Kam presses her lips together to suppress her laugh while Lane smirks, her drink halfway to her mouth.
I can’t take my eyes off her lips as she wraps them around the straw. My eyes darken, voice dropping lower. “What’s so funny?”
Her breath catches, and she licks her lips nervously. “You just don’t look like a man who carries a clipboard around all day.”
I lean in slightly, just enough to close the space between us. “What kind of man do I look like, Wildflower?” I murmur, my voice dripping with a rough edge I can’t control.
Jesus fucking Christ. Now I’m giving her nicknames. I definitely should have gone back to my motel room.
Lane shifts in her seat, and I’m unsure if it's the nickname or the roughness in my voice that’s making her squirm.
Kam fans herself dramatically, eyes bouncing between us. “Holy Mother of Jesus! I’m going to get off just from this sexual tension.”
No filter. At all.
I can’t help the chuckle that slips out, but Lane shoots her a glare. “Kameron!” she scolds, cheeks blazingcrimson. “We’ve talked about keeping thoughts inside our heads.”
Kam’s eyes narrow back at her. “And we’ve talked about you using my full name.”
“Then stop saying shit like that, and I won’t have to,” Lane fires back, folding her arms over her chest in mock annoyance.
The standoff lasts only a heartbeat before both of them burst into laughter, the sound carrying above the beat of the music.
And God help me, watching Lane laugh; her smile wide, eyes alight with mischief. It knocks the air out of my lungs.
There is no way this woman is a killer.
Our client painted her as cold. Calculated. A heartless bitch who put two bullets in her husband and vanished.
But this woman? This woman is sunshine and fire. Hell, the entire town adores her.
Something isn’t adding up, and if there’s one thing I hate, it’s an unsolved puzzle.
The band launches into a cover of Any Man of Mine, and Kam jumps from her seat with a squeal. “Ohhh!!! I love this song!”
She grabs Lane's hand and yanks her onto the dance floor.
“I’ll see you around,” Lane calls over her shoulder.
I pick up my glass, my eyes tracking her movements as I take a slow sip.
Yes, you will, Wildflower.
And next time, I won’t let you get away so easily.
