Sweet Wild of Mine

by Laurel Kerr

  “No.” Clay shook his head. “I want you to show me how to be likable.”

  June’s atypical irritation and cynicism fled. She looked at Clay Stevens. Really looked. She saw a flicker of something else in his blue-green eyes. It didn’t take her long to recognize it. Loneliness.

  This wasn’t just about the wolves. June wasn’t even sure if Clay realized that. But she did.

  The old June would have immediately agreed to his plea. She couldn’t have resisted the glimpse of sadness…or the challenge. People in Sagebrush didn’t just dislike Clay Stevens. They hated him. A month ago, June would have jumped at the chance to transform him into the town’s darling.

  But not now.

  Instead of fixing others, June needed to concentrate on herself. She’d realized something in the past weeks. She’d never truly wrestled with her own emotions. She wouldn’t call herself shallow…just outwardly focused. It had protected her, keeping her heart safe when the Air Force plucked her once again from her home.

  But she wasn’t a little girl anymore. And she wasn’t a military brat either. She had her own store and more responsibilities than she could handle. Although her nan had good days, her mind remained in a permanent fog. The doctors said it likely wouldn’t improve much more. June had no business taking on Clay Stevens’s issues as well. Meddling in other people’s lives could end up hurting them and wouldn’t make her own better.

  She’d learned that the hard way.

  “I’m sorry,” June said, and she meant it. “I can’t help you.”

  “Because of what my dad did to this town?” Clay asked. “I wasn’t part of his phony investment scheme. Don’t you think my life was destroyed too? I was just a teenager when he went to jail.”

  Sympathy wormed its way into June’s heart. She reached forward and patted Clay’s hand. “It’s got nothing to do with you, Clay, or your daddy. It’s not just the favor business that I’m out of. I’m not trying to fix other folks’ problems anymore. I’m focusing on my own. And let me tell you, I’ve got a heap of them.”

  Clay straightened. June had no trouble detecting the disappointment rolling off him. He’d spoken the truth. He was desperate.

  “Just give people a chance,” June said. “They’ll come around.”

  Clay snorted. “It’s been over ten years. I don’t think that’s happening.”

  “I can give you a coffee—black. It’s on the house.”

  Clay gave her a grin, and he looked like he was in an advertisement for an expensive men’s fragrance. Yet June felt absolutely nothing. Evidently, a certain surly Scot had ruined her for fair-weather smiles. They seemed so…ordinary now.

  “I guess I’ll take what I can get,” Clay said.

  June poured him a cup to go. He raised it to her before heading for the exit. No sooner had the door shut behind him than Buck Montgomery rose to his feet. “Was that upstart bothering you? If he was, I’m not too old to teach him a lesson or two.”

  June had to hide a smile at the elderly man’s protective outrage. She shook her head. “He was just asking me for a favor.”

  Stanley snorted as he turned in his seat to face June. “Never trust a Stevens. They might act like they’re your best friend one minute, and then they knife you in the back the next.”

  “You can say that again,” Buck said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  June shook her head. “Clay Stevens isn’t his daddy.”

  Stanley hmmphed. “He’s the spitting image of him.”

  “Just ’cause they’re the same on the outside doesn’t mean they’re the same on the inside too.”

  Buck studied her with a worried expression on his leathery face. “You’re not going soft for the Stevens boy, are you? I know you’re feeling vulnerable since that Scottish…” The old cowboy’s voice trailed off, but not before June felt a fresh slice of pain. She tried to hide it, but she saw the regret in Buck’s eyes. “My apologies. It wasn’t my place, June.”

  She gave Buck a nod and wished she could think of a witty response that would put them all at ease, but she couldn’t. Instead, she felt the prick of tears. Land sakes alive, she hadn’t cried this much in years. Maybe ever.

  She glanced down at the baby monitor. Her grandmother still slept peacefully, but Buck didn’t know that. “I think Nan is stirring. I better go check. I’ll be back in two shakes.”

  As soon as June walked through the double doors to the back of the tea shop, she stopped and pressed her fist against her sternum. Closing her eyes tightly, she willed the pain away. It didn’t lessen.

  She opened her eyes and said to the silence, “Glory be, how long is this going to last?”

  * * *

  Although Magnus liked fine, smooth whiskey and could appreciate a good beer, he rarely got drunk. With his size, he could hold his alcohol fairly well, and he didn’t believe in drinking himself into a stupor.

  Until now.

  He was completely and utterly blootered.

  It probably didn’t help that he’d had nothing in his puggy but half-eaten beans and toast. He stared at his whiskey glass and swirled the liquid, watching it catch the light. He’d broken into the good stuff because he didn’t want to leave the flat. A part of him retained enough sense to know he’d regret it, but the rest of him didn’t care.

  He wanted oblivion.

  Instead, he’d become more maudlin. A few moments ago, he’d caught himself singing an ode…to June’s eyes. It was a wonder his neighbors hadn’t called the bobbies.

  Magnus leaned back in his chair, and it almost crashed to the floor. He thought about the time he’d stumbled on the fainting goats and June had rushed to his side, her golden hair hanging over him. There’d been other times when her tresses had fallen like a curtain…more pleasurable times.

  He slammed the whiskey glass onto the table. He heard it crack, but he didn’t care. He needed to stop thinking about the lass, or he’d go doolally. Pressing his fingers against his forehead, he tried to think. He heard June’s voice in his head, telling him he needed to talk about it. And he did, but he had no mates. Baws, he’d never even gotten around to buying himself a dog.

  Before he could think better—or even think at all—Magnus fished out his mobile. With his coordination absolutely rubbish, it took him a little time to pull up Bowie’s number. The other man answered on the third ring.

  “Wilson here.”

  “This is Magnus.” He may have hiccupped or even burped. He wasn’t sure. Either way, Bowie was gentleman enough to ignore it.

  “How’s London?”

  “Dddreich,” Magnus said, slurring the d rather than stuttering.

  “We could use some rain here in Sagebrush.”

  Magnus did not want to talk about the weather. “Would it be all right with you if I FaceTimed with Frida?”

  “Come again?”

  “I’d like to speak with Frida.”

  “The bear?”

  “Aye. You have another Frida hidden in Sagebrush?”

  “Uh, no,” Bowie said slowly. “I’m not exactly sure what you’re asking. Do you want me to take my phone and position it so you can see Frida?”

  “Aye.”

  “Do you want privacy?”

  “Aye,” Magnus said, wondering why this was so difficult for the American to understand.

  “Uh, I guess I can do that. I’ll call you back when I get over to the enclosure.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And Magnus?”

  “Aye?”

  “June’s been having a hard time with this breakup too.”

  Magnus frowned down at his mobile as Bowie hung up. Who said he was having difficulties getting over June? He scratched the back of his head and felt the old scar. His scowl deepened. His mobile beeped, and after several misses, he managed to jab the button to answer
it.

  He saw Frida and heard Bowie’s voice. “Can you see her?”

  “Aye.”

  “Okay,” Bowie said. “Uh, I guess I’ll leave you two to chat then.”

  “Thanks.”

  Magnus waited for a few beats. The picture wasn’t the best quality, and he wasn’t focusing too well. He doubted the bear even noticed the smartphone with her bad eyesight. It was the best he would get, though.

  Frida sat with a block of ice between her hind legs. There appeared to be bits of fruit and vegetables frozen inside it. The bruin scraped her teeth on the edge as her powerful claws gripped the slippery surface.

  “I’m glad to see one of us is happy,” Magnus said.

  Frida just kept on chewing.

  “My head’s mince right now,” Magnus told Frida. The bear appeared unimpressed with this announcement. Most likely, she didn’t even hear him although he might have seen her left ear flick.

  “I’ve never been like this over a lass,” Magnus confessed.

  Frida made a rumbling sound. The old girl’s hearing must have been better than her eyesight. She definitely seemed to be picking up his voice. Magnus grinned, inordinately pleased that the grizzly could listen to him.

  “I didn’t want this,” Magnus said, his words slurred even to his ears. “I fancied a quiet life. Alone. There used to be peace in solitude. Now it’s just lonely.”

  Frida moved her large head, clearly looking for him. She emitted a low, almost mournful sound. Magnus felt his lips slip into a half smile. Aye, the bear made for a good chum. She’d even echoed the dark feelings swirling inside him…along with the contents of a bottle of twenty-five-year old Highland Park whiskey.

  “The lass didn’t just get into my head,” Magnus said. He stopped for a moment trying to think through the fog. His heart took over, and the words flowed. His coworkers from his roughneck days used to joke he transformed into a maudlin poet when blootered. “She got into my soul, and I can’t expel her. There’s no in-incantation strong enough for her fae magic.”

  Frida sniffed the air, still trying to locate him. When she couldn’t detect his scent, she snorted.

  Magnus sighed and wished he could see the old bruin’s eyes—even as rheumy as they were. There was something comforting in an animal’s gaze. Magnus imagined it was an ancient wisdom that humans had lost in all their philosophizing and blethering. Aye, beasties had an honesty people lacked, including him.

  “Och,” Magnus said as he hiccupped and then slurred his words. “I suppose you’re right. There’s no f-f-fairy magic in what June’s done to me. I’ve gone and fallen in love, and that’s the truth of it.”

  Frida stood up on her hind legs in an attempt to see better. She was a magnificent beast, even in her dotage. Old age couldn’t completely destroy the raw power nature had bestowed on her kind, just as Magnus couldn’t rid himself of his affection for June. It had sunk so deep, it had infected his very cells.

  “The problem is,” Magnus said, “there’s a hollowness inside me, and I’m afraid if I don’t repair the hole, it will swallow June and me both.”

  Clearly giving up on sensing Magnus’s presence, Frida sank back to the ground.

  “I am not being overly dramatic. I’m a writer. It’s how I think.”

  Frida laid her head on her rock and wiggled her large posterior as she settled into a comfortable position. Magnus wished he could do the same. As drunk as he was, if he tried to sleep, he’d only find himself thinking of her.

  “June shouldn’t have contacted my mum, but I shouldn’t have left like I did. I should’ve given the lass time to explain. She’s got a good heart.”

  Frida grunted as she adjusted her chin. Her eyes drifted closed in pure bliss. Magnus really did envy the bear her peace.

  “I’ve made a bowfin’ mess of things, haven’t I?” Magnus asked.

  Frida popped open one eye. Then she sighed, long and hard. Her entire large body heaved with the effort.

  “Aye, I have.” Magnus answered his own question.

  Frida rolled her head slightly away from him and flung her paw over her face. She shifted a few more times before she stilled.

  “Are you trying to tell me I should talk to a human instead of a bear?”

  Frida responded with a snore. A very loud one. Magnus chuckled…at himself or at the grumpy grizzly, he really didn’t know. But somehow, in his drunken conversation with an old bruin, he’d discovered a way out of his torment.

  Because there was someone else in the world who’d escaped his father’s control. Maybe she’d learned to live her life, instead of constantly worrying about losing her freedom if she let another human close. It wouldn’t be hard to find her. Not with her unopened letters sitting in the bottom of his cupboard. She’d always included the return address on them, and in all the years she’d been writing, it had only changed once.

  Chapter 17

  June couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept properly. When Magnus left, she’d had Josh to help her with Nan. But he’d needed to get back to San Francisco and his career. June had thought caring for her grandmother and juggling her job would get easier. But it hadn’t. It had just become harder…and harder.

  The days and nights blended together. She wasn’t getting much rest, not with Nan calling her in the middle of the night. The only time she had to herself was when she stepped into the shower in the evenings. She’d broken down and cried in there more than she wanted to admit.

  Her parents promised to come for a long weekend in another month, and her brother had two weeks of leave early in the summer. She tried to keep focusing on their upcoming visits. She knew down to the hour when her parents were due to arrive. But she hadn’t told them about her struggles. They might insist on sending Nan to a home.

  But lately June had begun to wonder if she could avoid that.

  She had just started to slip into bed when she heard the baby monitor crackle. “Junie?”

  Since Nan couldn’t hear her, June exhaled. Long and heavy. Wearily, she got back up and padded into her grandmother’s room. Nan was sitting up in bed, her eyes a little hazy. Her gaze latched onto June’s immediately.

  “I miss the kind young man who used to read to me,” Nan said.

  This time, June suppressed her sigh. Nan’s hearing wasn’t terrific, but she could tell when June got irritated. Although June tried to stay even-tempered, she swore at times her grandmother could try the patience of every saint who’d walked through the Pearly Gates.

  “I know, Nan.” June patted her grandmother’s hand as if she hadn’t had this same conversation every night since the Scotsman’s departure, sometimes more than once. “I miss him too.”

  Nan’s expression turned hopeful, much like a young child angling for candy. “Will you read to me instead, Junie?”

  June forced a smile. Reading Magnus’s books always ripped open a fresh wound in her heart, but she couldn’t say no to her grandmother, especially when his work brought the older woman peace. She’d tried the books on tapes, but it was harder for Nan to concentrate on the words. Plus, she said the recording sounded tinny with her hearing aids.

  June found her place in Magnus’s second book and began reading.

  The wind howled its baltic breath, and the chill from it sliced through my parka. My first winter in the frigid far North had arrived. Old-timers had plenty of advice, mixed in with a healthy dose of cautionary tales that would make an auld Orcadian granny proud. Frostbite. Lost noses. Black toes. Hypothermia. Men lost in sudden squalls and found frozen during the spring thaw. I am not sure which ones are real. Maybe all. Maybe none.

  I found it didn’t matter. The bitter cold didn’t frighten me. Instead, I found a kinship with it. When I stood on the edge of the rig and stared out into the expanse of flawless snow and ice, I did not flinch at the vastness. Instead, recognition flickered
inside me…perhaps even a sense of homecoming. In the emptiness, I found my peace.

  June stopped. She’d heard this passage many times over the years when her grandmother had listened to the audio version. After Magnus’s arrival in Sagebrush, she’d skimmed over the words. Now, they shot through her, each one hitting her heart with blazing accuracy.

  “He is a lonely man,” her grandmother said. “Lovely, but lonely.”

  June lifted her head to regard her nan. Propped up by pillows June had arranged, the older woman rested her back against the headboard. She had her eyes closed, but she opened them, and her gaze appeared clearer.

  “Yes, I would say that describes Magnus very accurately,” June agreed, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

  Her nan reached forward and patted June’s hand. The action caused bittersweet surprise to ripple through June. Her grandmother had always been a compassionate woman. For all her British austerity, she’d exuded warmth, especially for her family. But her disease had robbed her of that. She’d turned inward and didn’t seem to have the energy or the focus to fuss over others.

  “You made him happy.”

  June felt her mouth twist. She tried to turn it back into a smile and failed miserably. “I chased him away, Nan.”

  That resulted in another hand pat. “I’m sure that’s not correct, dear.”

  June swallowed hard. Her nan sounded so normal, so much like her former self, that the truth rolled from June’s lips before she thought better. “It is, Nana. I tried to fill the barren emptiness inside him and got blasted out instead.”

  “Junie, I have never seen you give up on something. You go after your surly Scot and make him see reason.”

  June shook her head. “No, Nan. I’ve learned my lesson. I’m done being a busybody and sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  Her grandmother smiled softly, and June’s heart gave a pang. Nan seemed to have drifted away again. But then her gaze latched onto June’s once more, and she saw wisdom glimmering in those hazel depths.

  “Are you certain, Junie, you’ve learned the proper lesson?”