Wild as Her (Beckett Family #2)

Chapter 7

Indie

F uck this shit. If there’s one thing I am, it’s a stubborn woman with a strong head on my shoulders.

“I’m not eatin’ that. I ain’t no damn rabbit,” I announce, popping the candy corn into my mouth as I watch Wild pour the steamed green plants into the dish on the counter. My place at the kitchen island is the perfect viewpoint to watch him cook a meal he swears I’ll love.

He lets out a low hum. “We’ll see,” he says cooly before turning and placing the pot into the sink.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asks over his shoulder with a furrowed brow, looking down at the bag my hand is creeping into.

“Yes, it is.” I hold my hand open for him to see the little multicolored candies.

His nose scrunches, staring at the festive candy. “It’s barely September. How the hell do you have those already?”

I shrug and pop the handful into my mouth.

“Gross,” he shakes his head and steps back to the stovetop.

“That’s rich comin’ from the guy with the world’s largest sweet tooth. Candy corn is delicious.” I chew the overwhelmingly sweet candy, feeling my blood sugar skyrocketing with each additional handful.

“Yeah, if you like eatin’ crayons… you psychopath.” He shakes his head again as he mixes the meat in the skillet.

I pop another handful in my mouth even though I don’t want them. My hands are shaking from the sugar rush that’s starting to get to me, but I have to make a point. I love this candy, and I’ll eat this whole damn bag in front of him.

Chewing as fast as I can, I quickly swallow them down and grab my water bottle from the counter.

Wild laughs, probably noticing my urgency after the little shiver from downing the load of sugar.

Capping the bottle, I give him a smug look. “See, balance. I drink this shit,” I motion to the water, “and that makes the candy more healthy. If I didn’t need to rinse the sweets down, I’d never drink this boring stuff.”

“Whatever you say, dollface,” he laughs, sensing he won’t win this battle with me—not that it’s really a battle. This guy has a huge sweet tooth; he just has some kind of personal vendetta against candy corn. Probably doesn’t like Peeps either, the psycho. I’m a lover of all candy, though—no discrimination here. If it’s sweet, I like it.

“I know you’re not my keeper, and I don’t need to inform you of my whereabouts, but I’ll be goin’ out of town for a few days next month.”

“Where you goin’?” His eyes peer over at me only briefly as he reaches into the cabinet for the box of pasta.

“I go visit my mom’s grave every year.”

“By yourself?” he asks, sounding unsure.

“Wren has gone with me the last few times, and as of now, she’s still plannin’ to come with me…” I trail off, fidgeting with the plastic label on the bottle of water in front of me.

“She’s not sure?” he asks, walking back to the stove and opening the box.

I shrug. “She might not be able to get out of a work shift, but she’s tryin’.”

The possibility of Wren not going with me really sucks. Going alone isn’t the best time, but I’ll do what I have to do.

“When are you goin’?”

“First weekend next month.”

He turns back toward me with a smile. “Hot damn. That’s my vacation week. Guess I’ll finally get to walk around in my birthday suit.” He begins to playfully swing his hips.

“Like you don’t already.” I roll my eyes.

“Well, there won’t be anyone to complain about it then,” he smirks.

Have I caught him a time or two walking around butt freaking naked? Yes.

Did I yell at him to put some damn clothes on? Also yes.

But did I look away? No—I’m only human. And that man right there has a nice ass. A better woman couldn’t have pulled her eyes from that view.

“So,” he pauses. “Are we gonna talk about Whitney?” He continues stirring the sauce on the stovetop.

“What’s there to talk about?” I pull my lips between my teeth and keep my eyes on the small veggie tray in front of me, admiring the bright red, green, and orange colors popping from each section of the round container.

Talking about emotions and shit makes me uncomfortable. Wild didn’t want that woman’s attention, so I stepped in—the end.

“You’re a complicated one, Indie Jones,” he sighs. “Look, I just wanna say thank you for steppin’ in and gettin’ her to back off. I owe you one, babe .”

Fighting back another eye roll, I shrug, ignoring his teasing. “I’m surprised you two love birds didn’t make it. You seemed so great together back in school.”

Wild turns away from the stove and comes over to the kitchen island, placing both hands on the smooth, tan countertop.

“What’ve you been smokin’?” The look of disgust on his face tells me I’ve potentially offended him. “You mean cuz she kissed me once at a party? Yeah, hard pass on that. That woman has always been obsessed with me.”

The admission that he was never with her shocks me, and I’m not entirely sure I believe it. I didn’t pay him much attention in school, but I know Whitney made sure to raise her voice with his name on her lips anytime I passed her in the hallways.

“Wow.” I shake my head at his cocky opinion. “You’re somethin’ else.”

“Incredibly smart and ruggedly handsome? I know.” He dips the tomato from the veggie tray in the ranch dip that’s nestled in the center. I track the movement back up to his mouth as his tongue peeks out to lick up the bit of white dip from his lip.

Fuck, I remember that tongue. And the way it ? —

I quickly shake the thoughts out of my head. The gutter is not where my mind needs to be when I’m alone in the house with him.

A house with two beds, a couch, a lot of walls… this island wouldn’t be bad either.

I bite my lip so hard I taste blood—anything to get my mind back where it needs to be. However, he’s making it impossibly hard not to want him. He’s standing here looking like Adonis while he cooks me a delicious meal, for Christ’s sake.

“And don’t forget an ego the size of your?—”

“Dick? Yeah, I know, babe.” He winks as he pops another little cherry tomato into his mouth.

Thankfully, before I have to respond to that— or let my mind think about his dick —I hear my phone vibrating on the glass table in the living room. Hopping off the stool, I run into the other room to grab it.

“Hey, babe,” I answer, noticing Wild’s curious eyes jump over to me.

“Hey, Ind… How are you?” There’s a nervousness in Wren’s voice that I don’t like.

“You can’t go, can you?” I say, defeated, as I walk down the hallway to my room.

I’ve gone alone a handful of times, but having someone with me these last few years has made it a lot more enjoyable of a trip. Not feeling alone in the heavy moments and not being able to get too deep into my head during the drive has been so much better.

My dad and I used to go together. But when he moved out of state, I started doing the drive alone, and we’d just meet there. Those few times that I did do the trip by myself weren’t my favorite. It’s not that I mind being alone, but during that time when I’m feeling way too many emotions for my own damn good, I’d rather have some company.

“I’m so sorry. There’s just no one to switch shifts with me. If you wait a few days, I can go with you. We just won’t be able to stay as long.”

I almost feel offended that she would even suggest that I don’t go on the same day I do every year. I want to be with my mom on the day I lost her so she knows I haven’t forgotten her. Being there a day late feels wrong.

“It’s okay. I’ve gone by myself plenty of times before. I’ll be fine.” I know Wren isn’t trying to offend me. She’s just being a good friend and trying to find a solution so she can be there for me because that’s what best friends do.

“Maybe Luce could go with you? Have you asked her about it?”

“Nope. With her condition, I doubt travelin’ in a car for a few days is high on her to-do list. And we both know Cal would veto that so fast.”

She lets out a sigh. “Yeah, you’re right… Oh! Why don’t you see if my brother can go with you? I know he’s off that week anyway. I’m sure he’d go.”

I let out a ridiculous laugh to match her absurd suggestion.

“You must be talkin’ about your older brother because there is no way you just asked me if I invited my arch-nemesis on a road trip.”

“Oh, come on. You guys have been gettin’ along so much better lately. I’m sure he’d go with you if you asked.”

“Bless your heart, Wren Beckett.” I shake my head at her crazy idea.

Do I want to go alone on this trip that causes me so much stress and anxiety? No. But do I want to ask Wilder, of all people, to go with me? That would be an even bigger no.

“I don’t think so. But hey, I gotta go help with dinner. I’ll text you later.”

We hang up, and I walk back into the kitchen, where I find Wild standing over a boiling pot of water. He stirs the spaghetti noodles in the teal-speckled pot and looks up, noticing my return.

“Everything alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, just Wren. Callin’ to let me know she can’t make it to Willowfield with me this year.”

His gaze comes back to me, and a look of uncertainty crosses his expression.

“Oh shoot. I’m sorry.” He frowns, biting at his cheek.

“It’s fine.” I wave my hand like it’s nothing. “I’ve gone alone plenty of times.”

Even I know this isn’t a convincing performance.

My lips roll between my teeth, and I bite down, stopping myself from potentially revealing any information on how this really makes me feel. Wild’s eyes stay on me, studying me, never saying a word.

“I’m gonna go change into my PJs. I’ll be back out in a few,” I announce, trying to find any excuse to get out of here and clear these damn emotions out.

Wild gives me a quick nod before pulling the plates from the cabinet.

After slipping the oversized t-shirt and my favorite pair of sloth-covered sleep shorts on, I sit down on my bed, running my hand over the soft burgundy comforter. Tears start to well in my eyes, and I swipe at them angrily.

Why am I being such a baby about this?

The wood floor in the hallway creaks, and I jump up, spinning to face my back to the door. I expect it to open, but it doesn’t. That’s all I need right now is for Wild to have more ammo to use against me.

A few minutes later, I walk back out into the kitchen and find Wild stirring the large pot of spaghetti sauce some more. Pulling out the stool at the kitchen island, I sit and watch him work.

“You know,” he says without looking away from the pot. “I’ve never been outside of Oklahoma.” He taps the long wooden utensil on the side of the large pot and then sits it down on the spoon rest next to the stove. Turning, he locks eyes with me. “Mind if I come with you?”

“Wild, that’s a?—”

“I’m a damn good driver,” he cuts in. “I have excellent taste in music, and I don’t require much sleep. I could do the whole drive if you wanted me to.”

“Wild, I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m pretty sure one of us would end up dead,” I joke.

“I’ll be good if you will,” he teases with a raised brow and a crooked smile.

The idea of Wild being ‘good’ makes me laugh. That man lives to pester me. But even I can admit that something has changed in him since I moved in. His taunting is less frequent, and we do get along pretty well most of the time lately. Maybe it’s a fluke since we hardly see each other, but perhaps we’ve finally just reached an understanding with one another and can get along like civil adults.

I let out a sigh. “I’ll think about it.”

“Alright.” He smiles beneath the mustache that I find myself wanting to reach out and run my fingers over. Needing to confirm it’s still in the rough sandpaper stage and not smooth yet.

“Hey, can you check those noodles?” he asks as he dumps the sauce into a large glass bowl, pulling me from thoughts of the way that mustache would feel against my skin.

Scooping a few noodles out, I pull one from the fork and toss it at the cabinet—it sticks to the wood surface with ease.

“What the hell was that?” Wild looks at me like I threw a cat at the wall instead of a noodle.

“It’s… how you’re supposed to check noodles…?”

He lets out a small laugh, nodding his head. “You’re a wild one, Indie Jones.” He smirks again, causing me to fight back a smile.

Why the hell are we getting along? What alternate universe am I in right now?

There’s a reason I don’t want anything long-term with another person. Growing feelings for someone isn’t something I allow myself to do—ever. I only stay in relationships when I don’t really have those kinds of feelings for the person. The feelings that feel like more . Like something permanent could come from them. If the man doesn’t give me all the butterfly feelings, then he’s the one I’ll stick around for. But Wilder has never stopped giving me those damn winged bugs in my stomach since the day he knocked me over in high school.

“Stop,” I demand without looking up from what I’m doing.

“Stop what?”

“Pitying me and bein’ nice.”

“I don’t pity you, Ind,” he shakes his head. “And I’m always fuckin’ nice.” He slaps my ass hard, causing me to quickly spin around. The smug grin plastered on his face adds fuel to my fire.

Holding the fork up to him in warning, I lean in closer. “Don’t fuckin’ touch what ain’t yours.”

“There she is,” he smiles. “I knew I could get you back, Wildflower.”

Shaking my head, I walk around the counter before I stab this fucker— or worse. While we make our plates, I bite back the smile that I refuse to let him see.