Chapter 10
Wild
“ I ’m sellin’ dad’s SUV if you know anyone lookin’,” my brother shares through the line.
“Indie mentioned she was savin’ up to buy somethin’ before our trip. I’ll talk to her about it and let you know.”
“Alright. It’s in good shape. No issues that I know of, anyway.”
“Okay. I’ll let her know. You still need me to come over and help with those deliveries next week?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Nope. Just wanted to make sure,” I say, glad that he refuses to hire anyone to help him with his business.
He’s been doing it so long now that he has it down to a tee. But delivering those large, heavy tables will always be a two-man job. I enjoy time with my family, so I’m glad he needs me.
Our call ends, and I shoot off a text.
Hey. I found an SUV for sale. You still looking?
She’s working at Vines and Vases today, so I don’t expect an immediate response, but one bounces back a few seconds later.
Wildflower
Yes. How much, what kind, and who’s selling it?
Cal’s selling my dad’s car since he doesn’t need it anymore.
My dad moved to Alaska a while ago when he sold me his house. Lucy had been using the SUV since her truck died, but Cal bought her a brand-new SUV last week. He’s in super dad mode, and I know he did a shit-ton of research finding the safest family car he could.
Wildflower
I’ll call Lucy. Thanks for letting me know.
Sending one last text to Cal, I slide my phone back into my pocket.
The last week has passed quickly. I had a good weekend with Indie, followed by a week from hell at work. I’m glad to have another few days off. I’ve always loved the high I get from my job at the fire department, but some weeks are a hell of a lot more stressful than others, and I need the break.
I haven’t taken a vacation or any extra time off of work in a long time. But Cap told me I had to use time, or I’d be losing it. Usually I don’t much care to take the time away—I like how busy my job keeps me. But lately, I have something—or someone —else that makes the quiet thoughts go away.
The original plan was to do jack-shit and just roam wherever the breeze may take me. When Ind told me she would be gone, I figured I’d keep busy with Carson or my brother. Or maybe even see what my buddy Kam was up to. Going on this trip sounds a helluva lot better, though.
Like I told Ind the other night, I’ve never left the state, and even though we’re just crossing over one border a day’s drive away, I’m still looking forward to the trip.
As I turn out of the dirt driveway, I spot a patch of wildflowers growing on the side of one of the side roads. The vibrant red and purple colors are hard to miss. Driving down the street, I realize it’s the field behind Mrs. Jackson’s place. That stubborn woman has always made sure to have flowers growing on her property as long as she possibly can.
I remember when I was a kid coming over and helping her toss wildflower seeds into this field for a couple of popsicles one early fall. It took what felt like forever, and I’m not really sure the reward was worth it. Looking out over the area now, I’m guessing she still suckers some kid into helping her out.
Pulling over, I hop out of my Bronco and walk to the field.
Her raspy voice fades out as she steps away from the microphone. The crowd cheers as she takes a slight bow.
Her wild auburn hair is down over her shoulders tonight, and the site has my palms sweating.
“These are for you,” I announce as I push the bunch of flowers in Indie’s direction when she exits the stage with her guitar in one hand.
“Oh… Thanks,” she hesitates, sounding a bit confused and setting down her case.
I don’t know why I brought her flowers. When I saw them on the side of the road, I immediately thought of her. Bringing them to her just seemed like the right thing to do.
“You sounded great,” I say, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the moment I just created.
This has never been us, and I know she doesn’t like it. But one of us has to take the first step; might as well be me—even if I feel awkward as hell the first few times.
Watching her on stage never gets old. I love her voice almost as much as I love seeing the way performing makes her feel. All of the emotion pouring from her; it’s like she’s in a world all her own up there.
Sometimes guys hit on her afterward or pass her fucking notes onto the stage. I get it; she’s goddamn breathtaking. But I’ve had enough of that. These assholes can go find another place to find hookups in.
“Thanks.” She grabs her old guitar case from the floor and puts the strap over her shoulder. That wild red hair of hers falls down her back in waves under the strap, and I itch to set it free.
That woman’s hair is something I’ve always been crazy about—and not only because red happens to be my favorite color. Those auburn locks were the first thing that drew me to her all those years ago. Something about it told me her wild could match my own—that she wasn’t like every other girl in our town. And then she informed me that she could kick my ass within the first few minutes of meeting her. Deep down, I think my heart was sold right then and there.
It’s been a long week not talking to her. The last time I saw her was when she snuck into my bed in the middle of the night. Well, snuck into my bedroom and ended up in my bed.
Talk about every man’s dream come true.
Sleeping alone these past nights has kinda sucked. Having her warm body next to me was relaxing. I got the best night of sleep in my damn life that night hearing her breathing beside me, feeling her warmth across from me, and smelling that damn coconut shampoo of hers.
At one point, her ice-cold foot grazed against my leg and startled me awake. She murmured my name, and it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. I loved knowing she was dreaming about me. It didn’t sound like a bad dream either, from the way she practically moaned it.
Like hell will I ever tell her about it, though. She’d probably find a way to make me forget it happened—hit me over the head with a frying pan or some shit. I’d never put anything past that woman and her attitude.
A new artist walks up on the stage just then, adjusting the microphone in front of him and greeting the crowd. With a yawn, Indie crouches down, grabbing her case into her hand again.
“Well, I’m gonna?—”
“You been sleepin’ alright without me?” I ask, finding a conversation to keep her from leaving as soon as I arrive. “Any new intruders I should know about?” I tease.
“Ha. Ha. You’re hilarious, Wild,” she deadpans.
“Dr. Jones, I could knock your socks off with my jokes.”
The evil look in her eye tells me I got us right back to where we need to be—where we are both comfortable. Me giving her shit, and her pretending to hate it.
“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” she demands between gritted teeth.
“Sorry, I forgot… I could knock your socks off, good girl ,” I tease again, knowing I’m probably pushing it a little farther than I should.
“Shut up, Wild,” she huffs and shoves to walk past me.
“Mmm, brought out the fire, did we, baby?” I taunt, stepping in front of her.
“Why the hell are you bein’ so annoying?” her brows scrunch.
I can’t help but wonder the same thing.
Why am I trying to piss her off?
It’s like an automatic reaction to her. I live for her feisty personality, and I know the only way I can really get it from her is to rile her up. Otherwise, she just ignores me. If the only way I can get her to talk to me is pissing her off, I go for it.
“Hey, Beckett. What took you so damn long?” Kam comes up behind me, slapping a hand on my shoulder.
“Sorry, was just talkin’ to Ind.” I turn back to face her, but she’s already long gone and making her way to the front door.
If I really want to get this girl to take me seriously or to honestly believe I’m not just some ass who teases her all the time, I really need to stop pushing so much.