Chapter 3
Indie
A fter getting settled into my new room at Wren’s place, I walk out to the dimly lit living room. There’s a white couch pushed against the wall with a checkered lavender throw blanket over the back. A large plant—that I’m not sure if it’s real or not—sits tucked into the corner of the room.
“Everything alright? I know that bed isn’t the most comfortable, but I hope it will work for the time being,” Wren says, standing from the couch when I enter the room.
“Oh yeah, it’s perfect. Thanks again, Wren. I’m just tired.” I sigh. “It’s been a long night.”
Understatement of the century.
I can’t believe that a few hours ago, I was crying in the bathroom at the coffee shop and spilling my guts out to her.
“Well, take your time settling in,” she reassures me. “I just put new bedding in there. That room has only been used a few times when my younger brother has stayed here. He bought the bed in there so he’d have a place to crash once every six months when he decides he’s too tired to drive home,” she laughs.
I knew that room smelled good, and I assumed it was a man’s cologne I smelled in there, but I figured she must have had a boyfriend or something that left his things in there. Now I feel bad for taking someone else’s room.
When she notices my reaction to the news that the bed belongs to someone else, she quickly continues.
“Don’t worry about it.” She holds a hand up as if to stop my train of thought. “He finally got a roommate and moved to his own place. He doesn’t stay over anymore.”
I take a relieved breath. “Okay,” I say, still feeling slightly guilty. “If anything changes, let me know. As you saw, I don’t own a lot, so I can be out pretty fast.”
Wren ignores me and peeks out the blinds of the living room window into the dark night. My eyes track her as she starts to dance around.
“You alright?” I ask, wondering what she’s doing and what she’s looking for out there.
“I have to pee so bad,” she says, crossing her legs and swaying from one foot to the other. “But my brother is supposed to be here any minute. Shit,” she scrunches her eyes shut. “I can’t hold it anymore.” Her eyes shoot open. “If he gets here and knocks on the door, could you let him in? Tall guy, blonde hair.” She darts out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom before I can even respond.
“Yeah, no problem,” I laugh as the bathroom door quickly closes with a loud click.
Wren’s house is in a quiet neighborhood on the other side of Alokin Falls. It’s not as close as I’d like it to be to my job or the coffee shop, but thankfully, it’s not too far, so on days I can’t find a ride, walking is a definite possibility if I leave early enough.
After high school, I bought a car that lasted about two months before something blew up under the hood and started smoking. The mechanic told me it would cost more to fix it than the car was worth, so I scrapped it.
Most of the places I need to go are usually within walking distance, or I can catch a ride with one of my roommates. But now that they both moved away, I’ll either be walking a lot more, or I need to invest in some kind of wheels—two is a little more in my budget than four at the moment. I can see it now: a guitar slung over my back and an ugly-ass helmet on my head as I pedal down the street, likely in the rain—because that’s my damn luck.
Guess I’ll at least need to get me a little bell so I can easily tell people to move it or lose it.
Headlights flash across the ceiling, and shortly after, I hear a loud motor shut off outside. I peek out the window and see a completely blacked-out Bronco parked in front of Wren’s house.
What the…it can’t be.
Black bronco, tall guy, blonde hair… son of a ? —
A knock sounds at the door, and I rush over to answer it, hoping I’m wrong. I have to be. There is no way he is here.
Shock briefly flashes across his face, matching my own when he sees me before giving me a mischievous grin.
“Hey there, Wildflower. You just pop up everywhere, don’t you?” A light breeze pushes his warm scent my way.
Sandalwood maybe? And definitely some kind of citrus mixed with a hint of vanilla.
All at once, realization hits me like a ton of bricks.
Oh my God, that smell. How did I not recognize it in the bedroom earlier?
All the signs were there. The cologne, the description of the guy I was to be watching for, and the fact that Wild was at the coffee shop that day to pick up his sister . How the hell it took me so long to put all that together, I have no idea. Let’s blame my low “O” count lately. I’m no scientist, but I can tell you it does things to the brain.
“What are you doin’ here?” I ask, trying and failing to avoid the delicious smell that floods my senses every time he’s near—the light breeze outside continuing to push the scent all around me.
“Indiana, this is no way to greet a guest,” he tsks, shaking his head. “This is my sister’s place. What are you doin’ here?” he asks, walking past me and into the house.
Taking a deep breath, I close the door behind him. I need to remember that I need a place to stay, and fighting with my new roommate’s brother isn’t the best way to start this.
But how could Wren , the sweetest person I’ve ever met, be his sister?
Thankfully, before I have to say anything else to Wilder fucking Beckett, Wren comes around the corner, rubbing what I assume must be lotion into her hands—the lavender scent growing stronger the closer she gets.
I can’t believe I moved in with someone without even knowing their damn last name.
“Hey, sorry. I have your stuff in the kitchen. Oh, Indie, this is my younger brother, Wilder. Not sure if he introduced himself. Manners can sometimes be lacking with him,” she laughs, looking at her brother and nudging his arm.
He smiles over at me. “We’ve met. Ain’t that right, Wildflower?”
My eyes narrow in his direction. “Yeah, unfortunately, we have,” I admit, turning to face Wren. “I’ve had a really long day. I think I’m gonna call it a night.”
I know this man; I need to leave the room before he has too much time to dig at me—his favorite pastime activity all through our senior year of high school.
“Okay. I’ll see you in the mornin’. Goodnight.” She traps me in a quick hug that I make awkward before turning and heading toward the kitchen.
Wilder, however, doesn’t move. Wren is rambling something to her brother over her shoulder as she walks into the kitchen, but he’s too busy eyeing me down to notice.
The boyish grin on his face tells me he’s about to say something that will make me want to smack the shit out of him.
“Don’t,” I warn, holding a hand up when his lips part.
“Don’t what?” he laughs, stepping closer.
“I know you. Just don’t.” I walk past him and make my way down the hall to my room.
“Goodnight, Ind,” he says from behind me. “Have sweet, sexy dreams of me tonight.”
I scoff and turn back with a scrunched nose. My mind goes blank as I search for a comeback to shoot back at him. His white t-shirt is snug against his chest, and my eyes have a hard time looking away. I could easily look away; my eyes just don’t want to.
He tucks his hands partially into his pockets and raises a brow. My mouth opens slightly, but no words come out. I quickly close it and shake my head instead.
“Losin’ your touch, Wildflower.” With a small laugh from his nose, he gives me another devilish grin and walks to join his sister in the kitchen before I can say anything.
What the hell did I get myself into?
The annoying sound of my alarm wakes me the following day, and I glare at the phone. I fucking hate getting up early. But with this being my first day at Wren’s, I know I need to get up and around before noon today—even if it is my day off.
The floorboard creaks as I walk down the hallway to the bathroom to finish getting ready for the day after quickly getting dressed in my room.
The bathroom is super clean and organized. I’m almost scared to use anything. I mean, there’s not even a single strand of hair in the sink. It’s the complete opposite of my last place with my roommates. With three women sharing a single bathroom, there was always shit everywhere.
I can see I’m going to have to get it together living with Wren, though. Roommate etiquette 101: Don’t be the messy one—no one likes that bitch. If I hope to catch any rides or if I want to have any hope of staying here for a while, I need to remain in good standing with Wren.
Running my fingers through my hair, I toss it up in a quick ponytail and then slide on my oval-shaped hoop earrings.
If earrings were currency, I’d be one rich bitch.
For most of my childhood, my dad bought them for me religiously. Christmas, Easter, Valentine’s Day, Spring Break, you name it. If there was an occasion, he’d bring me a pair home.
It all started with sticker earrings and then quickly transitioned to the little plastic kind that clip on and then fall off thirty seconds later.
I begged my dad for weeks to let me get my ears pierced. I thought he’d never cave, but thankfully, my aunt was able to talk him into it.
I’ll never forget the day I decided I wanted to start wearing earrings, either.
After growing bored one afternoon waiting for my dad to finish up his work call, I went snooping through an old photo album I found in his bedroom. Inside the worn, red leather book, I found a picture of my mom posing in front of a car. She had the biggest smile, and I found it hard not to smile back at the faded photo in my hand.
Studying the picture for what felt like hours as I sat in my dad’s bed, I decided she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I hoped that one day, I’d be as pretty as she was.
My eyes were constantly drawn to the hoops in her ears, and I was convinced that if I ever wanted to be as pretty as her, I’d have to start wearing them, too.
After all these years, I feel naked without something in my ears now.
When I finally make my way out to the kitchen for some of the delicious coffee I’ve been smelling all morning, I see Wren sitting at the table, sipping from a yellow mug. She’s fully clothed and ready for the day. Her perky body language making one thing clear: she’s a morning person—just one more thing to add to the list of things that make us complete opposites.
“Mornin’,” she says with a smile. “How’d you sleep?” She places the cup down in front of her and brings her attention back up to me.
“Good mornin’. It was perfect. Thanks again for lettin’ me stay.” I still feel weird about just barging in on her like this, no matter how many times she insists it’s fine.
“If you don’t want me to stay, Wren, please let me know. I promise I’m a good roommate, but the last thing I wanna do is intrude. If you could just give me a little time to find a place, I’d appreciate it.”
“Oh, stop it,” she waves me off. “This is your home as long as you wanna stay. I’ve been meanin’ to find a roommate anyway. I just haven’t got around to it. You’ve just saved me a bunch of time.” Her icy blue eyes hold mine.
Maybe she’s telling the truth, and maybe not. Either way, I’m grateful for her.
Grabbing a mug from the cabinet, I pour myself a cup of coffee and add some of the vanilla creamer that’s on the countertop. Next to it sits a clear container full of little black stir-sticks.
“I do have a small favor to ask,” Wren says as I sit across from her at the table.
“Name it,” I respond eagerly, excited to pay her back for her generosity.
“I told Wilder last night that I’d go with him into town this mornin’, but I just got called into my other job at the nursing home. I can tell him to go alone, but I hate to do that to him on such short notice. Would you mind ridin’ into town with him? He could use an extra set of hands. It won’t take long.”
Fuck . My. Life.
I absolutely do not want to be in a vehicle with that man. But I owe Wren for literally saving me last night.
“Yeah, I can do that. When will he be here?”
“Should be here in about an hour.” She checks the time on her phone. “Shoot, I gotta go. Are you sure you don’t mind?” She looks at me apologetically.
“No, it’s fine,” I lie as I sip the warm coffee from my mug. “I’m off today, so I didn’t really have anything goin’ on. I could grab a few things while I’m out, too.”
“Thank you so much, Ind.” She walks over and hugs me in the chair. Guess I’m gonna have to get used to that.
“I have an extra key hangin’ on the hook by the door; go ahead and take that one for yourself. I’ll get another spare made today. Call me if you need anything,” she adds, leaving the room in a hurry.
“Like a place to bury the body?” I whisper to myself as I hear the front door click shut.
I finish my coffee and then get another cup. I should be watching out the living room window for Wilder, but he can get out and knock when he gets here. He was always the athletic type; he’ll be thankful for the exercise, I’m sure.
I spend the next while flipping through the magazine on the table—skimming articles and admiring photos. I’ve always loved all art forms and wished I was better at taking pictures, but that was never in my wheelhouse of talents.
When Wilder finally pulls up outside, I wait a few minutes for him to come to the door. When he doesn’t, I let out a sigh and decide to be the bigger person. Grabbing my bag from the couch, I toss the silver key inside and walk out of the house.
I just need to think positive and stay on my best behavior. This trip will be over before I know it.
Opening the vehicle door, that delicious smell smacks me in the face like the little bitch it is.
Maybe there’s a doctor I could see to make me not be so affected by a smell?
The sound of classic rock music fills the speakers—because, of course he has great taste in music. The universe can’t even make him like shitty music and throw me a bone for once.
My eyes trail over him and see he’s wearing another damn white t-shirt.
I hate that it looks so good on him.
When he sees that it’s me joining him and not his sister, he reaches out, turning down the volume on the radio.
“Not that I ain’t happy to see you, but where’s Wren?” His brows pull together.
“She got called to work and asked me to step in,” I reply as I close the door a little harder than necessary.
His eyes narrow into a glare as he bites his lip.
“Indie, I’m sure your daddy raised you better than that. I know you have somethin’ against me, but Betty didn’t do anything to deserve that kind of abuse.”
“ Betty? ” My eyebrows knit together.
He rubs the steering wheel. “That’s right. My girl’s name is Betty. Black Betty, to be exact.”
Jesus .
Okay, it’s a little weird that he named his vehicle. But I guess a lot of people do that—especially ones that are obsessed with them. It’s honestly a little hot the way he’s always been in love with his Bronco.
No, it’s not, Indie. Get a grip.
Patiently, I wait for him to pull out of the driveway. But we remain in the same spot, him staring at me expectantly. I eye him back with a raised brow.
Wild unbuckles and scoots across the bench seat to come closer to me. My breath hitches as he leans in closer. His face is right in front of me… If I wanted to, I could easily press my lips to his.
Where the hell did that come from?
God, this is such a bad idea.
His eyes lock with mine, and a smirk takes over his face like he’s reading my mind. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches over me and pulls the seatbelt across my lap, clicking it into place.
His gaze travels down to my mouth, and I feel the butterflies that have been dormant for years start to come to life in my stomach.
“Buckle up, baby. This ride might get a little bumpy.” He winks and slides back over to his side—leaving me all kinds of frazzled.
Why is it that everything he does causes my ovaries to spasm?
I’m so fucking screwed.
“Thanks for goin’ with me,” Wild says as he pushes the shifter sticking up from the floorboard into park.
Our trip to town was quick, and I was able to grab a few items I needed while we were out.
“No problem.” I twist to unbuckle myself and then lean over the bench seat to grab my bags from the back.
“Let me know if you need any more rides. My work schedule can be a little crazy, but when I’m not at work, I’m usually out and about doin’ somethin’ anyway,” he says as he turns off the engine and snatches the bags from my hand.
“What are you doin’? I can carry two little bags, Wild.”
“I know you can.” He winks before turning and pushing his door open.
I hate when guys wink at me.
Hate. It.
So why do I get this feral feeling like I want to rip his shirt off every time he does it?
Pulling the key from my pocket, I unlock the front door and enter the house. Wild follows behind me, and I close the door once he passes through.
The sound of plastic bags hitting the couch catches me off guard. When I turn around to say something about him throwing my things, I’m engulfed in a kiss as Wild pushes me against the door, one hand going to the wall behind me, the other pressed into my hip. His warm lips taste like the cinnamon gum he’s been chewing all afternoon.
I know I should push him away or slap the shit out of him, but oddly, I don’t want to do either. The tension that has been growing between us all day has been suffocating. Because let’s face it, this has been growing for years .
“What are you doin’?” I ask breathlessly, peering up into his hooded eyes when he pulls back from me.
“Not fightin’ the pull I feel to you anymore.” His coarse fingers push the hair from my face.
“Wild, this is not happenin’,” I respond, though deep down, I want to do the same. I was always drawn to him in school, and since seeing him again after all these years apart, I’ve thought about him more than I like to— or ever will —admit.
I want to say it’s just a sexual attraction, but even I’m not dumb enough to believe that. Though he drove me insane in school most of the time, we did get along on days when he wasn’t trying to get laughs and would just be the boy I met at the river that night.
When I don’t say anything, he leans in closer again, his eyes pinned on mine.
“I know you try your hardest to stay away from me. But Ind, this isn’t high school. We ain’t kids anymore. We both want this,” he adds, running his hand over my hip, his curious fingers dipping into the flesh beneath the hem of my shirt. When his warm fingertips dig in deeper, I draw in a quick breath as the goosebumps skate up my arms.
Maybe this is what I need. Perhaps I just need to get him out of my system so I can move on. I know we have the house to ourselves for the rest of the day… But do I really want to go down this road with him?
He’s still peering down into my eyes, and I can’t seem to escape his intoxicating scent. A smirk runs across his face as his gaze moves down to my mouth. His tongue ghosts his lower lip as his eyes grow heavy.
I let out a sigh. “Fuck it.”
I stand on my tiptoes and pull his head down to mine. Our lips connect in a kiss so hungry it’s evident how long we’ve both been waiting for this.
We go at each other like two starved wild animals. His hands grip my hair and lightly tug, causing a whimper to escape me as I bite at his lip.
“ You like that, don’t you, Wildflower? ” he whispers against my lips, tightening his grip and causing a small shiver to pass through me.
If he starts the dirty talk, I swear to God.
“Shut up, Wild.” I cover his lips with mine again and walk him backward. If this is going to work for me to get him out of my system, he’s going to have to keep that mouth shut.
He bends to lift me, and I wrap my legs high around his waist as he continues to walk us down the hallway. A vase crashes to the ground, and neither of us does anything about it—too lost in the moment. His lips taste like straight sin, and I’m willingly suffocating on his kiss.
He throws the bedroom door open and tosses me down onto my bed.
“I still don’t much care for you,” I tell him as he pulls his shirt over his head with one hand, exposing his fit chest.
He smiles as he crawls on top of me.
“I know,” he says, pulling my shirt over my head, eyes staying glued to mine. His hand comes up, and he brushes his thumb across my lower lip. “But you don’t have to like me for me to fuck you, Wildflower. I like your feistiness.” He unbuttons my shorts next and slides them down my legs. “I’m actually lookin’ forward to it,” he grins up at me.
Sitting up, I wrap my hand around his neck, digging my nails into the pulse I feel beneath my fingertips.
“Careful what you wish for. You just might get it,” I say, keeping his gaze as I squeeze his throat tighter, digging my nails deeper.
His eyes grow wide as he reaches out, wrapping his hand around my neck in return, pushing and pinning me back down to the bed, causing the air to leave my lungs in a whoosh.
“Bring it on, sweetheart,” he says against my parted lips, placing a soft kiss on them.
He peppers his lips across my jaw, making my toes curl into the cool bedding beneath me.
“I want your marks all over me by the end of today,” he growls into my ear, causing a shiver to run through me again.
I release my hold on him, dragging my nails down his firm chest, doing just what he asked me to do, leaving a red trail on his flawless skin.
“ Good girl ,” he whispers again before sitting up enough to meet my eyes.
His praise causes a small moan from me, and I quickly bite my lip to stop anything else from coming out.
“You like that, huh?” he asks, seeing the heat radiating from my eyes now.
When I say nothing, he gets his answer, and that devilish smile I’ve come to know him by reappears, causing the wetness between my legs to grow.
“I’ve got a few hours with you.” He runs his finger slowly and lightly across my cheek and down my neck as I breathe heavily beneath him. “We’re gonna make ‘em count.”
His tongue continues the trail down my body that his finger started. I get lost in his words, in his touch. Absolutely nothing else matters to me right now.
This is just for today. Nothing more will come from this. We are back to same ol’ same ol’ after this.
I have to remind myself that nothing can happen with this man—I refuse to let it. I’ve known for a long time that being with Wilder isn’t going to be like being with anyone else. There’s a different feeling where he’s involved—feelings I have no plans of exploring.
But right now, I have him, and I’m going to fucking devour him. I’m going to scratch this itch and finally get Wilder Beckett out of my system.