The Good Luck Sister (Wildstone #1.5)(16)

She looked down at his leg, covered in his pants. “You’ve had a remarkable recovery.”

“Long-ass road through PT.” He lifted a shoulder. “I was . . . determined. Because I wasn’t going to give up flying. I could go private.”

She nodded, her chest feeling too tight for her rib cage. He’d never given up. Not like she had . . . “Why didn’t you come home?”

He met her gaze. “Wildstone wasn’t really home for me.”

She felt the air back up in her lungs at that.

“The only place that had ever felt like home to me was being wherever you were,” he said quietly and took a step closer.

Leo picked his head up off Tilly’s shoulder and growled.

“Zip it, Leo,” she said, staring up at Dylan. “Except you looked me up, determined I was off the market by one photo, and didn’t bother.”

“Are you saying you weren’t?” he asked. “Off the market?”

She looked away. Because the truth was, none of the men in her past had ever made her feel what Dylan had. “I’m saying it doesn’t matter. You wanted me to forget about you.”

“I did,” he said, and ignoring Leo’s low growl, reached out, running a finger along her temple, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “But I never forgot about you.”

She shook her head. “Why are you here now then? You guys could have started up your company anywhere.”

“Ric got a deal here at this airport. And I told myself that eight years is a long time. A lifetime. That you’d moved on and so had I.”

She stared up at him. “So now what?”

He gave a slow shake of his head. “Yesterday, I’d have said we just ignore our past and deal with the here and now. Live our lives the way we’ve been living them. Separately.”

“And now?” she asked, inexplicably holding her breath on his answer.

“And now, the ball’s in your court.” He gave Leo a very hard look. “I’m going to move in close,” he warned the dog. “Don’t even think about using your teeth on me.” And with that, he leaned in and kissed Tilly.

Like yesterday’s kiss, it was gentle. Sweet.

And no less devastatingly sexy for it. She heard a soft, surprised moan. Her own. She couldn’t help it—at the touch of his tongue to hers, memories exploded, playing across her eyelids. This man had been her first, and God help her but she wanted him to be her last . . . With that thought she broke free and stared up at him. “I thought you just said the ball’s in my court?”

“It is. I just believe in stacking the deck.”





Chapter 7




After experiencing “feelings,” I’ve decided they’re not for me, but thanks for the opportunity.

—from “The Mixed-Up Files of Tilly Adams’s Journal”




Ten years prior:



Tilly’s heart did a little happy dance as she tiptoed out of the quiet house and made it to the park in a record-breaking three minutes.

The place was deserted. No one on the swings. So she walked past the swing set to their tree, and the tree house. In the dark, she could see the glow of a phone screen. She climbed up and found a tall, lanky figure sitting there and her pulse sped up even as her smile faded.

Dylan was hiding from the world and that meant he was hurting.

She plopped down next to him. “Hey.”

Dylan lay flat on his back and stared up at the stars. “Wouldn’t mind being an astronaut.”

Her heart caught. He had the grades for it. Or he would’ve had the grades for it if he hadn’t had to work his ass off on top of school. “You could totally do it,” she said, lying down next to him so that their arms brushed. She touched his fingers with hers. “You could do whatever you want.”

He snorted and she wondered what had happened to upset him. She’d ask, but he wouldn’t tell her so she did her best to look him over to see if he had new injuries. Thankfully, she didn’t see any. “You can,” she whispered. “Be an astronaut.”

“Says who?”

“My mom.” Her breath caught because it was a reminder that she was gone now. “She always told me that.”

Dylan rolled to his side and propped his head up with his hand as he studied her in the dark. “She was trying to be nice. Nobody gets to do what they want. When school’s out, I’m going to have to dig trenches for my dad.”

He already worked as many hours a week as he could spare to help his mom cover expenses. “Once you graduate, you can do whatever you want.”

“Don’t be naive, Tee.”

She pulled her fingers from his and sat up. She hated when he acted like he was so much older than she was. Hated when he made her feel like a stupid little kid. “I’m not naive.” She pulled her knees in and pressed her forehead to them. “But sometimes, you just have to believe in something.”

He blew out a sigh and sat up beside her. She felt his hand brush over her hair and wrap around her and he pulled her in closer. “I’m sorry. I’m an asshole.”

“You’re not.” She turned her face to look up at him. “You aren’t like your dad, Dylan.”