Chapter 2
Reagan
He’s early.
Tiago Wilde has just stepped into my shop about fifteen minutes early.
I’m in the middle of getting a tour group set up for a rock-climbing excursion they’re taking today. Doug is leading them. He’s the most qualified climber in the area.
The group of six has gathered in my shop to sign waivers and meet up with Doug. They’re enjoying pastries from Kennett’s Bakery and a cup of coffee.
Now I’m struggling to continue my speech because Tiago is in the room using all the oxygen. He’s stopped just inside the door, and he hasn’t interrupted me, but I can feel his gaze on me. It’s intense. I’m sure I’m reading far too much into it.
The truth is I’ve been completely consumed by Tiago Wilde since I met him two weeks ago at the bakery. Something about him is magnetic. I’m drawn to him, and it’s making me tremble now that he’s in my space.
I’m not the only one. Two of the ladies in the rock-climbing group are glancing at him. I doubt they’ve heard a word I’ve said since he entered. I haven’t really heard anything I’ve said, either.
Since I’ve given this pre-departure speech a hundred times, I assume it’s coming out of my mouth by rote. I hope so. No one seems to be staring at me questioningly.
Someone is definitely staring at me, though.
Tiago . I’m not sure he’s even aware of anyone else in the room, which makes me feel tingly.
It shouldn’t. I don’t know him. He doesn’t know me.
We exchanged a few pleasant words at the bakery.
He expressed interest in booking a hiking tour, and I gave him my card. That’s it.
Except that isn’t all there is to the story. Not by a long shot. Mostly because I’ve watched my phone like a madwoman ever since the encounter, willing him to call or text. He waited two weeks. Two weeks.
Granted, I know he was busy. His brother married Claire from the bakery. It’s the hottest gossip in town in decades. Ryder swooped into town, swept Claire off her feet, and put a ring on her with a full set of “I do’s” in fourteen days. I’m sure Tiago has been occupied.
That didn’t keep me from checking my phone frequently. It didn’t keep me from fantasizing about him every waking hour. It didn’t keep me from putting my battery-operated boyfriend to good use for the past two weeks.
Once the waivers are signed, I escort everyone out the front door as Doug pulls up in his van to pick them up. The most attention I give Tiago is to hold a finger up on my way past him, indicating I need another minute.
Shit. He even smells good. Exactly how I remember. Like whatever soap he uses, the outdoors, and unsurprisingly paint. These things shouldn’t necessarily be attractive, but they are. This is the scent I recall from our first meeting. It’s been in my head ever since.
I feel like I’m suddenly some kind of shifter—some type of animal who’s drawn to their mate by scent. Absurd.
I help everyone into the van, hand the paperwork to Doug, and wish them all well. As the van pulls away, I take a deep breath and reenter my shop to find Tiago wandering around, looking at the brochures on the shelves and posters from past group excursions.
He turns toward me and smiles. “Sorry, I was early. I should have waited outside until you were done.”
I rub my hands together to occupy them. “No problem.”
He steps closer, putting us a foot apart, and speaks in a low, soft voice. “I flustered you.”
I shudder. He may have flustered me when he arrived, yes, but the fact that he noticed and pointed it out, flusters me far more.
He picks up one of my braids, which is lying over my shoulder, and fingers it absently. “My apologies.”
My mouth has gone dry, and I’m speechless, which is unusual for me.
Tiago has me spinning. I lick my lips, but all I can do is stare at his face.
The man is ten times more gorgeous than I remember.
Dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, a shadow of a beard, brown eyes. It’s like he’s looking into my soul.
He’s searching my eyes, and again I wonder if we’ve been sucked into some strange cosmic shift. I feel as if we’re two seconds from pouncing on each other and fucking like animals right here in the front of my shop. I’m not opposed to the idea. I don’t think he is either.
Seconds tick by. It should be awkward. It’s not. It’s intense and hot.
Finally, he drops my braid and steps back as though he’s come to his senses. One of us needed to. “Where are you taking me today?” he says in the most seductive voice I’ve ever heard.
I want to respond with something snarky like, “how about my bedroom,” but I draw in a deep breath and nod toward the counter. “I have a map.”
My bedroom isn’t an option anyway. I live in a small house with my grandfather, where I sleep on a twin bed in my childhood bedroom. That suddenly makes me feel far too young and unworldly next to this much older, far more sophisticated man.
Any doubts I might have had about whether or not he’s attracted to me have flown out the window. Tiago is into me. Would he be if he knew more about me? Like my age, my living arrangements, and the single-digit number in my bank account?
I shake my concerns from my head. Tiago has hired me to take him on a private hike. He booked it yesterday by text. I almost couldn’t believe it when I saw his message after two weeks of willing him to call me. I’m still stunned.
I need to get a grip on myself because I’m definitely overreacting to this situation. I’ve blown Tiago out of proportion in my head. He’s just a guy I met one time. A guy who likes hiking. Maybe he booked a private tour because he doesn’t like crowds or strangers.
Everyone in this town is a stranger to Tiago. He’s only been here three weeks. He hasn’t spent much time in town. Everyone knows everything about everyone in this small town. And I have not shied away from listening to the gossip about him.
The biggest gossips in town are Arnie and Blue. They sit in the bakery sipping coffee in their window seats nearly every morning of the week. They hear everything, and they spread it like wildfire.
I know Tiago is a painter. I Googled him.
He has paintings in galleries all over the country.
From what I can tell, he does pretty well.
I know he came here in an RV because he’s a nomad who has been traveling around the country for years.
I know he’s Ryder's older brother, son of William Wilde, and grandson of the late Amos Wilde. He’s here to claim his piece of the pie like every other one of Amos’s grandchildren.
After three weeks of gossiping about these brothers, we all know the only way any grandchild can collect their inheritance is by moving to Wilde for ten years and taking care of the town.
Amos’s grandchildren are not kids. They’re grown adults.
The oldest is forty-five. I’m not sure how young the youngest is.
I’m not even sure how many grandchildren there are.
Amos had four sons, and they all have adult kids.
I walk behind the counter to put a barrier between me and Tiago so I can breathe. I pull open a map of where I intend to take him today and point to the path I’ve marked out. “You said you wanted to go five miles. Is that still okay?”
“Yes.” He nods as he leans over to look at what I’ve got planned. When he reaches up to smooth the map out, his fingers brush mine.
I don’t move my hand. I just continue to hold the map in place as if I haven’t noticed or am unaffected by the slight contact. I’m affected like a wolf in heat.
I have to stifle a giggle. That’s the third time I’ve pondered our odd connection as though we were not fully human.
Tiago is smiling when he lifts his gaze. “What’s so funny, Reagan?”
I love the way my name rolls off his tongue. It sounds like a seduction.
My face heats at being caught. There’s no way I would tell him my thoughts. They aren’t even rational. Who could explain what I’m feeling? I shake my head. “Nothing.”
His smile grows. “Tell me.”
Oh shit .
I smile back. “Not a chance. Shall we go?”
He sets his hand on top of mine, holding it against the counter. His thumb starts rubbing my skin. “What made you giggle, Reagan?”
I sober slightly and swallow hard. He’s holding my gaze again. I want to climb up him, wrap my legs around his middle, tug his ponytail loose, thread my fingers through his hair, and then kiss him. I bet this man can kiss like nobody’s business.
I want his hands to wrap around my ass cheeks to hold me up.
I want him to spend hours looking into my eyes like he is right now.
I want him to flatten me to the wall and grope me until we’re both breathing heavily.
I want everything I’m feeling to be mirrored by him, and I hope I’m not wrong in suspecting it is.
I shake out of my mental stupor and whisper, “We should go.”
He grins. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered, and I’m persistent. I won’t let this go, Reagan. I want to know your thoughts.”
“You’re so intense,” I respond. “I’ve heard Ryder is, too. Is it genetic?”
He chuckles. “Maybe.” Still holding my hand, he lifts it off the counter as he rounds to my side. He’s so very close when he says, “I want to get to know you. Tell me what made you giggle. It’ll be a good icebreaker.”
I draw in a breath. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Nope.” He pulls my fingers to his mouth and kisses the tips.
My breath hitches. This is intimate. It’s mesmerizing. I can’t draw my gaze away from his full lips slowly kissing every one of my fingers. We’ve definitely crossed the client-saleswoman line. It’s been obliterated. There are no doubts about his intentions now. Gone. Poof.
I lick my lips again. What the hell? “I was thinking it feels like the two of us have an unnatural connection, like wolf shifters scenting out a mate.”
His smile grows wider. “I like that. I think you’re right. Let’s get to know each other and see what happens.”
I nod.
“Can we take your car? I haven’t had a chance to buy a vehicle yet. I came to Wilde in my RV, but I’ve been driving around in a thirty-year-old Cadillac. It’s the newest vehicle in my grandfather’s garage.”
I giggle again. Giggle? “I’ve seen that monstrosity a few times. Now I know who’s driving it. Yes, we can take my car. It’s not the best in town, but it’s newer than yours.”
“Good.” When he releases my hand to step out from behind the counter, I feel the loss. Crazy.
I’m glad I have my backpack ready. If I had to pack it now, I would probably end up heading off with only half of what we need.
When I lift it from the floor next to the counter, Tiago takes it from me and swings it over one shoulder.
He hefts it a bit. “I assume you have water in here for both of us?”
“Yes. Protein bars, first-aid kit, matches, sunscreen, sodium powder, knife, bandanas, flashlight… I think that’s it.”
He faces me, cups my cheek, and sets his forehead against mine. For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. I even will him to. Instead, he flips my world upside down with two words. “Good girl.”
I’m all warm and fuzzy for a moment, but then I straighten my spine and stand taller. “I do own and manage an adventure company. I’m always prepared for every eventuality with a customer.”
“Of course you are.” Is he teasing me?
My hands are shaking when we step outside, and I nearly drop the keys as I lock up.
As soon as I’m done, I turn, hold out the dangling keychain, and drop it in his palm.
“You’re driving.” I point toward the Honda Accord parked at the curb and climb into the passenger seat without waiting to see his reaction.
Tiago puts my backpack in the back seat, opens the driver’s door, and reaches down to use the lever to push the seat back before he climbs in. The man is six feet tall. I’m five-six. He’s chuckling as he adjusts the mirrors.
When he’s situated, he turns to me. “Seatbelt, baby.”
Baby … My heart lurches at the endearment.
I scramble to pull my belt on, frustrated with myself for being so scattered that I haven’t done so already. He’s scrambling my brain cells.
He starts the car and glances at me. “You’re going to have to give me some directions, Reagan,” he says seductively. Everything he says sounds seductive, like he’s making love to me in the front seat of the car.
Shit. Pull it together, Reagan . I lift a hip, pull my phone out, and set the GPS before sticking it in the cell-phone holder on the dash.
As soon as I’m finished, Tiago grabs my shaking hand. He looks at me again. “We’re just going hiking.”
I nod. Right. Just hiking. Why does it seem like so much more?