Wild for You

by Daisy Prescott

  Zoe chokes on her drink. I didn’t see her join us. Coughing to clear her throat, she asks, “You’re Landon’s mother?”

  Gwendolyn’s attention bounces from my mother to me to Zoe, avoiding Sage alltogether. I can’t look anyone in the eye, especially not my friends. The awkward tension is so off the charts I might burst out laughing.

  Sipping my drink and scanning the room, I wait for someone to say something to dig us out of this social faux pas pit. After my earlier freakout, I’m both relieved and disappointed not to see anyone sipping their drinks with a pink phallus. We could use a dick distraction.

  Sage pulls out her good breeding and extends her hand to Mrs. Roberts. “It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Sage Blum, and I apologize for my sense of humor. It’s because I’m from Chicago.”

  Zoe’s eyes widen with shock. “We’re both from Chicago. What does that have to do with anything? It isn’t like we were raised by the mob or feral cats on the shores of Lake Michigan.”

  My mother sighs with exaggerated disappointment. “Sage is one of the Chicago Blums. Of Bloom and Board.”

  Mrs. Roberts catches on to Mom’s name-dropping, her scowl transforming into surprise as she takes Sage’s hand. Nothing like millions in the bank to smooth over an awkward moment. “Oh, of course. I believe I met your parents at the Caribou Club several years ago.”

  “It’s possible.” Sage loosens her grip, but Mrs. Roberts holds tight like she finally has a lively one on her fishing rod.

  “Didn’t you date Landon?” my mother asks Sage, ignoring my not-so-subtle glare.

  “Date is a strong word. We know each other. Aspen’s a small town.” She finally escapes Mrs. Roberts’ hold.

  “Sage’s boyfriend is captain of the rugby team. They’re living together. Cohabiting in the same condo. In sin.” I don’t want to leave any doubt they’re more than roommates. I might as well announce they’re having sex. “She’s spoken for. Although Lee needs to put a ring on it, she’s no single lady.”

  Four sets of eyes widen while words keep pouring out of my mouth.

  “I think we get it, Margaret.” My mother presses her hand on my forearm.

  “Okay, didn’t want there to be any confusion.” I nod and try to sip from my empty flute. Where’d my mimosa go?

  Zoe hands me her glass and I finish it.

  “Are you dating anyone?” Mrs. Roberts asks me, sounding only vaguely interested.

  “Uh, that would be a negative. It’s the end of summer and the dating pool has dried up more than the snowmelt. By late August, we’re left with ‘been there, done that’ and the ‘still not desperate enough to touch that’s’ of single people.” I follow this up with a shudder.

  “Mae,” my mother hisses under her breath. To the mother of one of the untouchables, she says, “She’s kidding.”

  “I wish,” I say drily, taking another sip of my mimosa.

  “Then you’re bringing a date for the wedding?” My mother’s hand reaches for her imaginary pearls again. “You can’t show up alone.”

  “I won’t be alone. There are over three hundred invites to this shindig. I’ll have my tribe with me, and I assume we’ll all be sitting at the same table. No one will notice if I’m unchaperoned.”

  Mom and Mrs. Roberts exchange looks of horror. Mom lowers her voice to a whisper in case anyone is eavesdropping. “This isn’t a night of debauchery at that tavern in Woody Creek, Margaret.”

  At the use of my proper name, I shoot Sage and Zoe a silent SOS.

  “Isn’t bringing a random guy to a wedding kind of weird? Watching two people pledge their undying love to each other is a lot of pressure on a date. I know weddings make people horny, but there are less awkward ways to get laid.” I stare at my friends for confirmation.

  With their eyebrows lifted, they manage to nod, but I’m not sure they agree.

  Inside of my mother’s brain, tiny blood vessels are exploding with every word that comes out of my mouth. Her face remains perfectly passive, but I can tell she’s starting to simmer over this whole exchange. A small twitch appears beneath her left eye.

  “There’s a simple solution to this issue,” Mrs. Roberts speaks up.

  Clearly, I misjudged her. She’s on my side and is going to tell my mother how silly the notion of a wedding date still is. After all, she’s Landon’s mother. She raised him. There’s no way even she thinks he’s dating or marriage material. Unless she’s delusional, which is a possibility.

  When she opens her mouth to continue, I hold my breath and prepare to mentally high five her. “Landon’s single, too. He can be your date.”

  In my head, I hear the sound of tires screeching on asphalt as they try to avoid the impending impact. I imagine someone screaming and time slips into slow motion.

  “No,” I whisper at the same exact moment my mother gleefully says, “Oh, that’s a wonderful idea.”

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll let Landon know when we have dinner tomorrow.” Gwendolyn, my new least favorite person, smiles and takes a dainty swallow of her champagne. “How perfect,” she says, delighted.

  No, not perfect. The opposite of perfect. The word she’s looking for is disaster or nightmare.

  “I can’t—” I try to decline, but my mother cuts me off.

  “Wait. Mae can’t wait. It’s going to be the wedding of the year. Let’s hope the aspen leaves don’t drop early. Wouldn’t it be perfect if they were at the height of their golden glory for the wedding? So divine.”

  The woman has clearly lost her mind. Never once in my twenty-seven years of life have I ever been excited about a wedding. It’s like we’ve never met. How can she not know me at all?

  “I—” Clearing my throat, I try again. “I’m not sure—”

  This time Mrs. Roberts speaks over me. “Oh, wouldn’t it be lovely if we get a light dusting of snow? All that gold and white everywhere? Do you know the wedding colors?” She directs her questions to my mother. “We should go find the bride and ask her.”

  “Oh, let’s!” Mom’s voice is giddy. Margaret London doesn’t do giddy. I’m now convinced this woman who appears to be my mother is actually a cyborg sent from the future to ruin my life.

  Watching the two of them stroll across the room together like best friends, my stomach sinks and the bitter aftertaste of defeat coats my tongue.

  “What just happened?” Zoe takes my glass and hands me another fresh mimosa. I don’t know how she keeps them coming, but if she’s bribed the waiter, I salute her.

  Sage links her arm with mine and says in a low, somber voice, “I think Mae was set up on a date with Landon.”

  I’m too stunned to speak. My fingertips are cold. I might be going into shock.

  Zoe’s face falls at this possibility. “She doesn’t have to go through with it, does she? We’re adult women. No way are you obligated to be Landon’s date because your moms decided this was a good idea. Your families don’t believe in arranged marriages, do they?” All her questions jumble together.

  “No, we don’t have arranged marriages. I totally got played by my mother and Gwendolyn Roberts.” I sigh and drink more mimosa.

  “How is this even a thing?” Zoe asks. “You can’t be forced to take that walking STD to your cousin’s wedding.”

  “No one is going to make Mae do anything,” Sage reassures me. “The wedding is six weeks away. You can find a real date between now and then.”

  “Easley would probably go with you.” Zoe offers.

  “He’s the better alternative?” I ask, completely defeated. “Do they make suits large enough for gorillas? Why can’t I be the sad spinster cousin who sits at the kids’ table? I’ll happily eat chicken nuggets and mac ’n’ cheese.”

  My mother strolls over to our group with a satisfied feline smile on her face. Pressing her hand against my shoulder blade, she lowers her voice, careful to not be overheard. “Dear, it’s one evening. The Roberts are a good family and it will make your grandparents happy to see you with a
date. Sometimes we do things in life that don’t thrill us but turn out to be worth the discomfort. Like thirty-four hours of labor to deliver a beautiful daughter.”

  She’s serious if she dropped the labor and delivery guilt. Margaret London only pulls that story out when she means business. And she added in my grandparents, which is the cherry on top of this hot mess sundae.

  “Fine, if he agrees, I’ll do it. But I’m not going to beg him to be my date. I have some self-respect.” I jut out my chin and meet her eyes.

  “Wonderful,” Mom exclaims happily, completely ignoring my reluctance. “Now that’s settled, we can all enjoy this lovely party.”

  When she’s gone, I turn to my friends. “Why do I think this was an ambush between Mrs. Roberts and my mother? I think they’re in cahoots.”

  “Do we know if he’s a momma’s boy? Maybe Landon will refuse to obey his mother,” Zoe asks, optimistically. “Sage?”

  “How would I know?” Sage holds up her hands in defense.

  “You slept with him. Did he call you Mommy or anything weird like that?” I feel bile rise in my throat.

  Thankfully, Sage says, “Uh, no. He was more the kind of guy to ask for feedback every ten seconds on how awesome he was making me feel. It was exhausting and totally ruined my focus.”

  We all make the same frown.

  “You don’t have to sleep with him. Make sure you put that clause in the dating contract.” Zoe laughs until she sees my face. “Too soon?”

  “Didn’t Mara go out with him when she first moved here?” Sage asks. “She survived.”

  “She was new and didn’t know better. He ditched her halfway through the meal after flirting with me. He’s the worst. I should know since I grew up with the guy. I have decades of bad Landon stories,” I add.

  “At least you never slept with him.” Zoe hands me a fresh cocktail.

  I peer around her, looking for a tray of mimosas. Seriously, how is she doing this? Her purse is too small to hide even a half bottle of champagne let alone a carafe of juice.

  “Thanks, bestie.” Sage wrinkles her nose like she’s smelled something horrible.

  “You were going through a crazy phase. There was no discouraging you. And you ended up with the right guy. Maybe Mae will meet the man of her dreams by doing this? Stranger things have happened.” Zoe gives me a sympathetic frown. “I fell in love with a rodeo cowboy. Never saw that coming.”

  Zoe and Justin are a new thing and at the height of the disgustingly happy phase of falling in love. Her ex was a horrible khaki-wearing tool and she deserves so much better. Thanks to me and my advice of getting back on the horse after her last relationship ended, she met Justin. I guess she took me literally, and not only rode the horse, but the cowboy, too. Can’t blame her. Justin wearing a pair of chaps does cause spontaneous ovulation.

  Unlike Landon Roberts who could cause a yeast infection with one touch.

  If I’m going to be his date for this shindig, we’re going to need to implement some ground rules.

  Wedding date rule number one: no touching.

  Read more here: https://bit.ly/2JIcDLQ

  Also by Daisy Prescott

  Love with Altitude:

  Next to You

  Crazy Over You

  Wild for You

  Up to You

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  Wingmen:

  Ready to Fall

  Confessions of a Reformed Tom Cat

  Anything but Love

  Better Love

  Small Town Scandal

  The Last Wingman (2019)

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  Modern Love Stories:

  We Were Here (prequel to Geoducks)

  Geoducks Are for Lovers

  Wanderlust

  Happily Ever Now (2019)

  * * *

  Tinfoil Heart

  * * *

  Wicked Society

  Get Witch Quick

  Someday my Witch Will Come

  Four Witches and a Funeral

  * * *

  Bewitched:

  Bewitched

  Spellbound

  Enchanted

  Charmed

  * * *

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  Want a sneak peek of the second Love with Altitude book?

  Keep reading for the first chapter of Crazy Over You

  Acknowledgements

  As always, first thank you is to my husband for supporting this wild life. And by wild I mean living with me when I’m on deadline, always in pajamas, or workout clothes, unsure if the dishes in the dishwasher are clean, the dog’s been fed, or what’s for dinner. It takes a special kind of partner to be married to a writer. Your unwavering belief in me and support of this dream mean the world to me. Our brainstorming sessions, your first feedback, and straight talk about how men really think make my books better. Thank you for being mine. I’m so lucky to walk through this life with you. I love you more than tacos.

  Thank you to my family for always making Snowmass feel like home. Our time together inspired this story and the settings. All names have been changed to protect our secrets.

  To all of my author friends and colleagues in the Indie world, you continue to inspire me every day. I’m honored to be in the company of so many talented and amazing women.

  To my reader-friends in Daisyland, thank you for being a part of my daily life. I love our little group. I wish I could give you all an Awesome Reader Cake. MJ, thank you for being tough. Erika Gutermuth, thank you for always believing in me.

  SM Lumetta, thank you for the beautiful cover and series branding. This cover makes me swoon every time I look at it. Christine, thank you for turning words into beautiful books and your continued kindness. Jenn, thank you for designing beautiful swag. Fiona, your graphics rock. All of you are truly talented, and I’m lucky to work with you

  Big thanks to my team, who keep me focused on the forest through the trees: Fiona Fischer, my amazing assistant who is an expert cat herder behind the scenes; my editor, Melissa Ringsted at There for You Editing; proofreaders, Marla Esposito of Proofing with Style and Elli Reid; my publicist, Jessica Estep at Inkslinger PR; Jeananna and Kylie at Give Me Books; my agent, Meire Dias at Bookcase Literary Agency; and KP Simmon at Inkslinger PR, for handholding and ass-kicking as needed. I say the same thing with every book, but I couldn’t do this without you. Thank you all for being amazing. I love you more than cake.

  Biggest thanks of all to you, dear readers, for continuing to buy and read my books. You inspire me to keep writing. Your reviews and word of mouth about books you love are invaluable. Thank you for spending your time with my stories.

  Hearing from my readers is one of the best parts of publishing. I can be reached on social media or at daisyauthor@gmail.com.

  xo

  Daisy

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  About Daisy

  Daisy Prescott is the USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romantic comedies, including Modern Love Stories, the Wingmen series, and the Love with Altitude series, as well as the Bewitched series of magical Halloween shorts.

  * * *

  Daisy currently lives in a real life Stars Hollow in the Boston suburbs with her husband, their rescue dog Mulder, and an indeterminate number of imaginary house goats. When not writing, she can be found in the garden or kitchen, lost in a good book, or on social media, usually talking about books, bearded men, and sloths.

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