3. Wylder
3
WYLDER
“I’m not a fan,” Tate says at my side as we pass by another line of trees.
“Of what?”
“This state.”
I smile, watching two assholes weave in and out of traffic on this two-lane highway. “Not my favorite either.”
“There’s nothing interesting to look at.”
“Maybe there’s the world’s largest ball of yarn or some shit around here.”
Tate groans. “The landscape is so boring that that almost sounds good.”
The truck yanks to the right, and I grip the steering wheel tighter, doing everything in my power to keep the beast under control.
“What the hell?” Tate asks, gripping the dashboard like it’s somehow going to save her life if shit goes even more south.
I let off the gas, easing the truck onto the berm without running over all the bullshit left by other vehicles that have been in the same predicament as us.
“Fuck,” I hiss as the car comes to a screeching halt.
Tate’s shoulders sag forward as she sucks in a breath and finally releases her grip on the dashboard. “That was almost more than my heart can handle.”
“I did the best I could.”
This isn’t good. Whatever’s wrong, I can guarantee it isn’t something that’s a quick fix, especially since we’re in the middle of nowhere. We’d have a better chance of finding parts to fix a horse-drawn buggy than my classic Scout I just finished refurbishing.
“I’m sure you can fix it.”
I turn my eyes toward her, hating that I have to kill her optimism so quickly. “Babe, brace yourself for a long wait.”
“Like how long?”
“If it happens today, it’ll be a goddamn miracle.”
Her mouth drops open, and she blinks at me in shock. “Say that again, because I’m pretty sure I didn’t hear you right.”
“This isn’t the type of car you grab spare parts for at the local auto store. It’s a classic.”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course it is, but you’re a wiz with these things. It’s literally your job.”
“Exactly. Which is how I know this isn’t going to be an easy fix.”
She covers her face with her hands before she slowly drags them down her face. “Why couldn’t we break down in a more interesting place? Now what?”
“Now, we call a tow and figure out our next move.”
She lifts her arm and points to the sky, where the clouds have shifted to a dark gray. “Looks like a storm is headed our way too.”
“The universe likes to pile shit on.”
It’s not the first time I’ve broken down, but it’s the first real crisis, if you could call it that, that Tate and I are facing together.
“I’ll call a tow and figure shit out. We can either rent a car and I’ll come back for the truck, or we can wait it out wherever the fuck we can lay our head tonight.”
She grabs her phone from the seat and starts to type away at her screen. “You call a tow, and I’ll start looking at places. There’s no need to leave this old girl behind.”
So far, I’d give her an A. Katie would’ve already started screaming about what an idiot I am for driving such an old piece of shit. Every single day, I’m reminded of all the ways they’re different.
“I’m on it.”
Surprisingly, roadside assistance is sending someone immediately. The chatty lady on the other end of the phone told me they were having a light day, and she didn’t want Daryl to leave us stranded in the rain.
“They’re on their way,” I tell Tate as soon as I disconnect the call.
Her tongue is out, sweeping across her bottom lip and tempting me to haul my ass across the front seat. “I found a few places for us to hunker down for the night.”
“I don’t want a shit place.”
“Do I look like the kind of girl who stays in shit places?” she deadpans.
“No.”
“Then zip it.”
“Zipped,” I tell her, pinching my fingers together and dragging them across my lips.
“It’s almost shocking the number of cute cabins around here.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Hot tub?” she asks, one eyebrow raised.
“I’m liking it even more, but we’ll have to see how far away they’re taking the car before we make any final plans.”
“Fingers crossed.”
Lucky for us, Daryl shows up a few minutes later, looking every bit like I’d imagined he would. He has a big potbelly with his pants hanging underneath and a blue shirt barely covering him. The old baseball hat on his head is covered with grease and is no doubt nothing like the original color.
He makes quick work of hooking us up and spends the entire time talking about the Scout. He doesn’t stop gushing about the restoration job.
“There’s an inn near the shop,” he tells us. “It’s probably not as swanky as you’re used to in the big city, but it’s comfortable and clean.”
I turn my gaze toward Tate, knowing she has her heart set on the cabin idea. “Whatever she wants to do.”
Tate jams her phone into her back pocket. “The cabins require more than a one-night stay. The inn is fine.”
“And that storm is fixin’ to be here soon.”
“We don’t have a car to get out to the cabins anyway. The inn is perfectly fine.”
“The storm’s going to be a doozy,” Daryl says as thunder booms in the distance, shaking the ground. “We’ll be lucky to keep power around these parts. Not the type of night you’d want to be in a secluded cabin away from civilization. Best part, I can drop you at the inn before I drop your girl off.” He pats the hood on the Scout, looking at her with so much love in his eyes.
“Thanks, Daryl. It sounds great,” Tate tells him.
She’s really good with everyone. I’ve never seen her treat someone poorly, which is something I really like about her.
On the way to the inn, Daryl tells us everything about the small town not far from the highway. He tells us about all the things to do, which isn’t much to us, but to him, it’s everything. It’s the place he’s called home since he drew his first breath.
There’s a family-owned restaurant that closes at eight and serves the best pancakes in a fifty-mile radius, based on his experience. There’s a shop with anything we may need for our brief stay and a sports shop where we can get gear if we want to do any fishing or other outdoor activities.
I almost chuckle when he tells us the last bit. There’s nothing about Tate and me that screams outdoorsy. We don’t even look like the type that would hike up a mountain—or, when talking about Indiana…all the flat land.
“Thanks, Daryl. You’d been really helpful,” I tell him as he pulls in front of the inn, which is really a bed-and-breakfast in what looks like the oldest house I’d ever seen.
“Tell Elizabeth I sent you. She’ll treat you real good.” He gives us a toothy smile. “I’ll give Marvin all your details, and he’ll be in touch about the ol’ girl.”
“Thanks again,” I tell him as I shake his hand, and Tate shimmies her way out of the front seat.
“You kids have fun, but not too much,” he says with a wink.
I imagine this is the type of town where most sexual activity besides missionary is illegal. Sex is for baby-making and not fun. Total snoozefest. I thank my lucky stars every day I wasn’t born in a place like this. I would’ve been miserable and probably drunk myself to death to dull the monotony.
“Well,” Tate says as I walk up next to her. She tips her head back, glimpsing up at the old building painted a shade of gray that’s almost as dark as the sky. “It’s no cabin, but I think this’ll do.”
“It’ll be whatever we make it,” I tell her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close to me as a flash of lightning causes both of us to flinch.
“Fuck. We better get inside before we get drenched,” she says, tugging me forward with her. “Or struck by lightning.”
I follow her, not putting up a fight because there’s no person I’d rather be stranded with than Tate. We’ve spent a lot of time together, but there’s been a time limit because the girls are always around when they aren’t at my mother’s or at school. This is going to be our first real test of alone time without any interruptions.
No family. No kids. No nothing. Just us.
A woman is in the hallway as soon as we walk through the front door, the lightning outside sending shadows across the space as well as her face.
“Welcome to the Saybrook. I’m Elizabeth,” she says with a warm smile. She looks like a grandma with big-rimmed glasses, an oversized flowery dress, and her short gray hair curled tightly around the crown of her head. “Do you two need a room?”
“Please,” Tate says sweetly. “We’d love to stay the night if you have a room or two.”
I almost choke on the word two and work quickly to correct the statement. “We only need one.”
Elizabeth gives us a devilish smile as she laughs softly. “Of course. You’re in luck because we only have one left. It’s a queen bed. Is that okay?”
Thunder sounds in the distance as the windows rattle from the rain.
“It’ll do perfectly,” I tell her. I wouldn’t care if we had a twin as long as we have a dry and warm place to spend the night alone. Sleeping won’t be in the cards tonight if I have my way either.
“Excellent,” Elizabeth says, moving to a small desk near the stairway. “It has a private bath and a very large tub.” The last statement, she says with a wink pointed in our direction.
“I could use a good soak,” Tate tells her, reaching into her purse.
I push her hand down before reaching for my wallet. “I got this.”
“Dinner’s in an hour, or I can bring it up to your room and leave it outside your door.”
“Outside the door would be great,” I tell her as I give her my credit card for the night.
“I figured you kids would want to settle in and relax.”
“Daryl told us this place is the best in town,” Tate adds, remembering that Daryl told us to mention him to Elizabeth. Maybe he gets a kickback.
She waves her hand in the air and laughs. “We’re the only place in town. Daryl’s such a character.”
“That he is,” I say as I take back my credit card when she hands it to me.
“He’s my brother-in-law. One of the nicest guys in town, though. My sister couldn’t have done any better.”
Again, I couldn’t do small town. The very thought makes me want to jump out of my skin.
She hands me a key with a giant white feather dangling from the keychain. “Top floor. Complete privacy. It’s the only room up there, but beware, the floors are thin,” she says before biting her lip like she’s reading my thoughts.
“We’ll be quiet.”
“No one said you had to be. Just letting you know you may have an audience if you get too loud.” She winks at me.
Tate giggles softly behind me. “If we’re too much, just give us a holler,” she tells Elizabeth. “It’s our first night without the kids.”
I glance over my shoulder at Tate. She made us sound like a couple, something I want more than I think I’ve ever expressed to her.
Tate gives me the same wink Elizabeth just gave me, but hers is much more sinful.
“Oh dear. That calls for a celebration. I’ll add a bottle of wine on the house to go with your dinner.”
Tate turns her attention back toward Elizabeth. “You’re the best, Elizabeth.”
“Call me Liz.”
“Liz,” Tate repeats. “I’m Tate and this is Wylder, but you already know that from his credit card.”
“It’s lovely to meet such a beautiful and young couple. We don’t get many around here.”
I glance around, noticing we’re the youngest people in the place by decades. We sure don’t look like anyone else either. If there were a picture next to “stuffy” in the dictionary, it would be of this group.
“You’re too sweet,” Tate replies as I shift on my feet, ready to get the small talk over with and head to the seclusion of our room. “Thanks for everything, Elizabeth. I’m going to get this grumpy fella up to his room so he can wash up for dinner.”
“Of course. Of course,” Elizabeth says, shooing us toward the stairway. “Enjoy yourself.”
“I plan on it,” I tell her with a wicked smirk.
“One more thing,” Tate says, and I growl under my breath, but she just shushes me with a pat on the arm. “Are there robes in the room? We didn’t bring anything to change into since we were only supposed to be gone for a few hours.”
“There’s two in the closet near the bathroom. They’re extra soft and freshly laundered.”
“Excellent,” Tate breathes as her boot finally touches the first step.
I do everything in my power not to push her upward, making her move faster. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s stalling on purpose to drive me crazy.
“Small talk’s over, princess,” I tell her, touching her denim-covered ass.
She shoots me a look over her shoulder, which only solidifies my thinking. She is stalling. “I’m moving, aren’t I, Mr. Grumpy? You in a hurry for a shower?” she asks, pushing back on my hand as I try to propel her forward faster than her snail’s pace.
“I’m in a hurry to get you naked,” I tell her, quickly shutting her up.