The Good Luck Sister (Wildstone #1.5)(13)

But before he could say anything, Leo broke loose from Tilly and scrambled for purchase on the smooth concrete floor. For a moment he looked like a cat on linoleum, but he got his footing and headed straight for Dylan, barking his fool little head off the whole time.

“Arf, arf, ARF!”

Dylan held his ground, thinking how much damage could a six-pound rat do anyway? When Leo got to Dylan’s feet, he stopped short, snarling and growling menacingly.

“Leo, stop!” Tilly said.

Leo did not stop. “Arf, arf, ARF!”

Dylan decided enough was enough. He squatted down to get eye to eye with the dog. “Only one of us can be the alpha,” he said.

Leo stopped barking for a moment to take this in and the silence was heavenly but short lived as he started in again.

“Arf, arf, ARF!”

Shaking his head, Dylan rose to his feet. Lost cause and he knew when to cut his losses, on both the girl and her dog. He turned to walk away and felt Leo clamp his teeth onto his pants leg. “You serious?” he asked.

Leo growled, not letting loose.

“Things to do, little man,” he said and headed toward Tilly, towing Leo along with him as he went. “I’ve got something of yours.”

“I’m sorry. Leo!” She bent to scoop the puppy up and he immediately stopped barking and panted happily at Tilly, licking her chin. She kept her eyes on Dylan. “You were about to explain some things to me.”

“Is that why you’re here?” he asked, hoping to divert.

“No. I’m here because . . .” She avoided looking at Penn and Ric. “Because you missed class.”

“You wanted me to drop your class.”

“Yes, but not because . . .” She hesitated. “Of a kiss.”

“I had a flight I couldn’t miss,” he said. “Would the teacher like a note?”

“Nope,” she said. “I’d like that explanation.”

Dylan sent a long “leave” look to Penn and Ric, both of whom were standing there like two middle school boys hoping for gossip. Neither of whom left. Dylan cleared his throat and jerked his head toward the door.

“The short version of the story,” Penn said to Tilly instead of leaving, “is that he acted like a dick, but he did it for you.”

Ric wrapped an arm around Penn’s neck and slapped a hand over the guy’s mouth. “Ignore us,” he said to Dylan. “Pretend we’re not even here.”

“And the long version?” Tilly asked Penn.

Penn tore Ric’s hand from his mouth. “He went into the military so you’d take your art scholarship. He did it so you’d move on and not look back. He did it so you’d have the life you dreamed of having. And he tried to not look back too. But then when he nearly got blown up and landed in the hospital at death’s door—”

Tilly gasped.

“No, it’s okay,” Penn assured her. “It was four years ago now. He lived.”

Tilly turned on Dylan. “You were hurt? And you didn’t tell me?”

Dylan opened his mouth, but Penn beat him to it. “He forced himself not to keep up with you, so we all looked you up on Facebook to see what you were up to. And you were seeing someone, so he refused to let us get in touch with you—”

“Wait.” Her mouth fell open. “You decided from a Facebook post to not to contact me?”

“Never said our boy wasn’t stubborn,” Penn said. His smile faded. “But it was really bad, Tilly. He wasn’t in a good place to make decisions, you know? In the end, we respected his wishes and bullied him back to the land of the living with the carrot of starting our own business flying for hire.”

“Okay,” Dylan said tightly. “Out.”

Tilly turned to go, but he snagged her hand. “Not you.”

“Right,” Ric said and picked up Leo before dragging Penn toward the offices. “We’ll dog sit.”

Penn twisted back to Tilly. “If you’ve got any other questions, just ask him. If after hearing his story you’re not punched in the feels and inclined to forgive him, you might want to check your pulse.”



Tilly waited until Penn and Ric were out of sight and it was just her and Dylan. She had so many emotions swirling through her, she could hardly breathe, and questions too. So many questions, but he was drenched. “Aren’t you cold?” she asked. “Do you need to change?”

He took her by the hand and tugged her along with him down the hall to an office. He shut the door and went straight to the duffel bag on the desk, pulling out a change of clothes. She expected him to excuse himself to another room. She did not expect him to begin stripping out of his clothes.

He kicked off his athletic shoes first, then his socks, which hit the floor with a soggy “smack.” He pulled off his windbreaker, which had been suctioned to his chest and back and made a very wet pop as he freed himself of it, like the nylon didn’t want to let go of him.

She kinda knew how it felt.

Before she could get annoyed at herself for the thought, he pulled his T-shirt over his head and then his hands went to his jeans.

“What do you think you’re doing?” For the record, she hadn’t looked away, but let her eyes soak up his bare chest and abs.