7. Oz
Oz
The next morning I hum as I pull my undereye and facial masks off. Despite that, dark purple bags are a clear indication that Willa and I stayed up far too late looking at pictures of Wilder as a child, as a tween, as a teen, riding bulls.
She even gave me a pop quiz after quite a few shots of tequila, and I did not nail it. About the only thing I remembered was that absolutely ridiculous middle name. I guess, while she was pregnant, Wilder’s mama truly felt he’d grow to be a musician like the famed human Orpheus.
Turns out she was fully wrong, LOL.
Sighing at the state of my face, I turn the water on and wait for it to warm.
A nice hot shower will do wonders for my skin.
Half an hour later, I’m singing under the warmth when an alarm rings—my intrahaven watch sitting on the edge of the sink.
I always need to set myself a timer, or I get lost in the shower, absolutely lost.
Hopping out, I keep my song going as I shuffle dry and then dress.
This house wasn’t designed for a monster with wings, so my tips keep hitting the ceiling.
The next few weeks are going to be a nightmare, but if I get to hang with Willa, shove a hot troll in front of Saint’s face, and get twenty thousand bucks so I can avoid needing a bank loan for my spa, I can sacrifice a little.
Plus, Ginger slept between Willa and me in the bed last night, and I honestly think it’ll be good for my sweet but terrified doggo to have more interaction. She needs a heavy dose of confidence, and I don’t think I’m enough to help her with that.
Once clothed, I leave the bathroom and head for the kitchen. We covered so much last night but not the food situation, and I’m not sure if I’m even allowed in the fridge. Although, if I’ve got a boyfriend, assumedly he’d provide snacks. It’s a gargoyle’s love language, after all.
Rational thought leaves me when I round the corner from the bathroom and find Wilder shirtless in the kitchen, wearing nothing but jeans with a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder.
He’s bent over the oven, looking in, but all that position does is highlight thick, flexed abs and a myriad of small pale green scars randomly dotting his skin.
Don’t remember those from last night’s crash-course PhD in All Things Wilder Lane. He doesn’t look up when I appear in what I’m sure is his peripheral vision.
“Got a quiche going,” he says gruffly. “Eat whatever you want.”
Ginger lies on the floor at his feet, her back against the drawer beneath the oven. She’s a lizard just like I am, I guess. And a traitor. Fuck me, this dog is gonna fall in love with this big troll and—
Actually, that’s probably fine for our purposes. It’ll be a good thing for Saint to think I’ve got a half hellhound who’s in love with my boyfriend. It’ll sell the thing, and I’ll be that much closer to twenty K.
Kneeling by her head, I rub a path between her eyes and along both silky ears. “Who’s my good Ginger girl? You were quite the snugglebug last night, my little sweetie.”
Wilder basically hovers above me but still says nothing, firmly focused on the quiche in the oven.
“So,” I begin, rising and leaning against the countertop next to him. “I learned everything about your entire life last night, felt like, but we didn’t really cover ground rules for our interaction. How do you like to be handled in public?”
He stands tall and scowls at me. “Handled?”
“You’re my boyfriend,” I remind him. “I’m gonna have to touch you when we’re outside of this house. Nobody will believe two males in love don’t touch in public, not anybody who knows me, anyhow.”
His frown deepens, wrinkles showing up between his brows. “Holding doors, maybe a light touch on the back or shoulder is fine. Nothing below the belt, though.”
I roll my eyes. “So much for wild and wilder. You promised me a good time.”
“And you said you didn’t want anything physical,” he reminds me.
“I know, I’m just messing with you.” I smile and push off the counter, grabbing my bag and snapping it over my shoulder, careful to avoid my wing.
Wilder clears his throat.
When I turn, he’s leaning against the oven, staring at me. “You don’t have to fight for the table anymore.” I’d swear the faint hint of a smile curves his lips ever so slightly upward. “It’s our table now, right?”
I shake my head. “Oh no, I’ll just tell Saint that fighting is how we like to show our love. Don’t even think about stealing my table. I’ve got work to do before my double at Whiskey Business.”
“I’ll come with you.” He pulls the quiche out of the oven with his bare-ass hands. Setting it down, he glances over at me. “Just let me put this away in case Willa comes by.”
Trolls, pfft. Too strong for their own good.
I’m not staring at his ass. I’m most definitely not.
Even though it looks so good in those jeans.
It’s an awkwardly silent walk from his cottage on the outskirts of downtown toward Main Street.
Twenty minutes of silence only punctuated by Ginger’s soft whining at the chilly ground beneath her sensitive toes.
She needs booties, and I’d wager Bluebell can order me some through Buxom Bodice Outfitters.
“Your pit hell ain’t what I’d have thought,” Wilder finally grumbles as we turn the corner in front of the newly renovated Keeper’s mansion.
I shrug and wave at the big house. I don’t owe anyone an explanation on why Ginger isn’t some tough-as-nails huntress. It’s just not her way.
“So, did you know Pine Gulch has chased off every Keeper we’ve had since our first one, Sipan Varian? This house has been dormant since his time, except, for reasons no one understands, she adores my friend Lemon. My theory is it’s Lemon’s sass. All of downtown is pretty sassy, actually.”
I give him a quick once-over. “You know you’re moving to such a sassy town? It doesn’t seem like your vibe, exactly.”
He shrugs and pushes his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders against the cold. “Not sassy, exactly, but I love the wildness of this place. I actually visited quite a few times when I was still on the buckin’ circuit, you know. I didn’t pick Pine Gulch by throwing a dart at a board.”
Well, okay then.
I fall silent as we start walking again.
Main Street’s pretty busy this morning, full of couples and groups milling around, chatting, drinking coffee and the like. Saint Ashbourne stands in front of the Welcome Inn, flirting with a blue-haired pixie. As if he can feel me, he turns and glances our way.
Remembering my fake boyfriend, I thread my hand through the crook of Wilder’s arm to rest my fingers along his forearm and do my level best to be interested in his silence and totally uninterested in Saint.
When we reach BrewHaHa Beans, Wilder grabs the door, shooting me a soft smile that’d have my ass puckering with need if I didn’t know it was fake.
Still, I blow an air kiss at him and sail through, wrapping my tail around my thigh.
Ginger follows, and then Wilder joins us.
As a happy little faux trio, we trail to the back and slide into my—I mean our—booth.
Ginger hops up next to me and assumes her usual position, head on my thigh.
Wilder grabs his computer out of his bag and opens it, preparing to start his work, I assume.
I’m actually kinda glad for that, because I’m nosy, and I’m sorta dying to know what on his computer always has him so intent.
After removing my notebook from my pocket, I open it up to the page where I’ve started my business plan. I suppose this might change now, though, if Wilder comes through with the rest of the money.
Glancing over, I nudge his side with my elbow. “Pst, Wild or Wilder, I’ve got a question.”
He sighs, glancing up at the ceiling before looking over at me with his trademark frown. “What is it, Oz?”
“You really good for the twenty K? I haven’t deposited it yet.”
He snorts and looks back at his computer. “Guess you should have asked before you agreed to this, huh? ‘Cause now you’re gonna have to just wait to find out.”
“That’s not comforting,” I manage as Saint Ashbourne walks through the door and heads for the counter. Ruby eyes flick to where we sit in the back, and I smile at him.
Just behind him, Lemon and Bluebell come through the door with arms linked.
Oh shit, this is gonna get tricky because Bluebell saw me on that date literally two days ago. The girls are gonna spoil this whole thing. They look back in unison like the creepy twins from The Shining, then Bluebell cocks her head to the side with a quizzical look.
I shake my head, shooting her a warning look. Her expression goes neutral as she drags Lemon over to wait for their drinks. A few minutes later, they join us, sliding into the chairs across the table.
“Spill,” Bluebell murmurs, looking between me and Wilder.
He clears his throat, looking at my besties over the top of his computer.
Moments later, Willa appears to his right and flashes us a huge smile. “Oh my gosh,” she says, looking at the girls, “you must be Lemon and Bluebell! Oz was telling me all about you last night. We had a little sleepover, and I’ve just been hearing about you for ages.”
Bloob looks baffled, and Lemon just lifts her coffee to her lips. “Is that so?”
I reach over and pat Lemon’s forearm. “Yes, y’all are gonna love Willa, Wilder’s sister. She’s in town for a couple of weeks; she’s a lawyer. So badass.”
“Oh, I love a lady in charge,” Lemon says amicably.
“I’m sad you didn’t invite us to this mysterious sleepover,” Bluebell snarks. Her expression screams for me to spill the beans.
I chuckle. “As if either of us could pull you out of Hadrian’s nest. Are you kidding?”
Wilder still hasn’t said a word while she laughs.
Bluebell shrugs playfully. “Facts. It only took me two decades to get into that nest, and you couldn’t bust me out with dynamite.”
Willa sits on the bench next to Wilder, bumping his hip with hers to urge him over. His body crowds mine until I’m smashed in the corner of the booth.
“Hadrian as in Hadrian Alkazar, star player of the, drum roll, Pine Gulch Punishers?”
“That’s the one,” Bluebell says with a bright smile. “Formerly my best friend, and now my mate.” She tosses her long blue hair over her shoulder to reveal the newly healed mating bite at the base of her neck.
“Love that for you,” Willa says. “Pine Gulch seems like just the place a monstress could come to find the perfect guy, or gal.” She nods at us.
Lemon cocks her head to the side. “Bloob, that’s Bluebell, and I are going over to the abandoned Keeper’s mansion in a bit so she can work on the gardens. Want to come with us, and we can have a little girly coffee chat?”
By which I’m certain she really means “tell us what the fuck is going on?!”
I nod. “That’s a great idea. Y’all should go now. Wild is crowding my wings a little bit.” I glance at Willa. “Not that I don’t love you, darling, but we’re big boys, ya know?”
She winks again but stands with coffee in hand, glancing at Lemon. “I’m down if you ladies are?”
My besties join her, shooting me a final look before the trio disappears toward the front.
Wilder immediately slides over and flashes me an irritated look, which I’m learning is just his face. “Those two gonna get my sister into trouble? She tends to find trouble all by herself without help.”
“Oh, no,” I chirp brightly. “Lemon about got herself arrested when she moved here, but she’s not really an into trouble sort of girl these days.
” When Wilder looks horrified, I widen my eyes and shake my head.
“It was just a misunderstanding. And Bluebell’s too busy for trouble.
” Shrugging, I return my focus to my notebook.
That was too close for comfort, honestly.
I promised Wilder I wouldn’t tell anyone about our little arrangement, but everyone in town knows me.
I honestly think we’d do best to just hide somewhere for two weeks and only meet Saint when we absolutely have to.
But if Wilder prefers to keep our fake relationship public, I can do that.
And actually, as we sit there in silence, the wheels of my mind start turning, and the nugget of an idea comes to me. Grinning, I start sketching in my notebook until a smile fully overtakes me. Oh, yes, yesssss, this is gonna be perfect.