Going Wild

by Gretchen Galway

  “I know you mean a drink,” he said, “but my first thought was of the wool beanie I wear when I’m camping.”

  “Let me guess. You knitted it yourself?” She could just imagine the crazy colors.

  “Hell yeah I did. Want to see it?”

  It was late. What was she doing? “Of course I want to see it, are you kidding?”

  “Come into my boudoir and I’ll show you. I’m pretty proud of it, as it happens.” With a grin, he opened the door wide and strode away to a plastic footlocker near the wardrobe.

  Jane bit her lip to stop herself from making a joke about etchings or how men lured women into their bedrooms for all kinds of things.

  She glanced at the bed, surprised it was neatly made. He seemed to be enjoying the bedding she’d chosen. Of course, as a man who was happy with sleeping bags and thin foam pads over dirt, he couldn’t be very picky.

  He pulled out a wadded ball of orange yarn from the footlocker and unfurled it with a flick of his wrist. “My latest. What do you think?”

  She had expected gaudy, but this was radioactive. “It’s bright.”

  “I’m rather attached to my head.”

  “I know what you mean,” she said.

  “Which is why I’d rather it didn’t get blown off my shoulders. It’s good to wear orange during hunting season. Especially on the parts you’d like to keep.”

  “They shoot you when you’re sleeping?”

  “Ah, no. This is for walking around. I’ve got a few more. Hold on.” He threw the orange hat to her as he turned and squatted down to the footlocker again. It bounced off her arm and fell on the bed. Her fingers brushed the soft comforter as she picked it up, triggering an impulse to lie down on the bed and curl up with a friend.

  To sleep. Because she was tired. Very tired. The way you get overtired and your heart starts beating too fast.

  She picked up the hat and, for absolutely no good reason, lifted it to her face and smelled it.

  It smelled like him. Strongly.

  She must’ve been exhausted, because her pulse took off in a frenzied sprint.

  Curling her fingers around the wool, her fingernails slipping between the little holes, she lowered it to her side—casually, as if she had forgotten about it, when in reality she was fighting the impulse to smuggle it out of the room.

  “What do you think of this one? Like the green better?” He waved another hat at her, this one in darker shades, and then pulled it over his head. It was lumpy, too tight on the left and bulging out on the right. A strand of olive-green yarn twisted down his cheek and stuck to his beard.

  “Let me guess,” she said, walking over to him. “A first attempt?”

  His brow furrowed. “What are you trying to say, Jane? You don’t like it?” Although he scowled, his eyes were playful.

  She reached up and patted the lump over his right ear. “It’s gorgeous.” Then she tugged on the loose strand, pulling it away from his beard.

  His hand flew up and captured hers. At first he was smiling, and she was too, but then something changed, electrifying the air, and both of them stilled. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “Careful,” he said softly, still holding her wrist. “It might unravel.”

  That it might. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came to her.

  “Sorry,” she said finally, barely more than a whisper.

  She swayed on her feet, gazing up into his eyes, and told herself to pull her hand away.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth. She could feel the heat of it on her lips. Her breath, which had stopped entirely a moment ago, now began to race in and out of her lungs in short bursts. Knowing he was watching and knowing it was an invitation but powerless to stop herself, she licked her lips.

  And stepped closer. Her elbow brushed his chest, pressing a groove into the soft fabric.

  He pulled her hand closer, bringing her with it. His fingers softened over her wrist and slipped along her forearm, trailing heat as they traveled.

  Before he could kiss her first and take all the credit and all the blame, she went up on tiptoes, cupped her hands around his bearded jaw, and pulled his mouth down to hers.

  This was her doing, not his, and she’d live with the consequences.

  Later.

  The trip to the hospital had been awkward, painful, boring, and depressing, and his grandfather was furious with him for bringing him, as if it were his eldest grandson’s fault he was aging and ailing, angry and afraid.

  Later perhaps Grant would blame the difficult experience for why he couldn’t resist taking just a moment to enjoy life a little, to remember the good things like silky female skin under his hands, soft female breath in his mouth, sounds of erotic female pleasure in his ears.

  Jane kissed him firmly, her lips parted, and clamped her hands on either side of his face as if a hole had opened up beneath her feet and she was afraid of falling into the abyss.

  It certainly felt that way to him. He was kissing her the same way, not with tenderness or passion, but with hard, almost aggressive force.

  It was as if she were saying, I’m kissing you, damn it, and he were replying, Damn right, and I’m kissing you too.

  That kind of kiss doesn’t last long. Not that he was an expert on that kind of kiss or would want to be. It was a little scary.

  They broke away at the same moment, chests heaving, and glared at each other.

  “Would you mind letting me go?” she asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  He realized he’d buried the fingers of his right hand in her hair. The thick curls wrapped around his knuckles, physical bindings that made it even harder to let go. She felt so good. With effort, he forced his fingers to relax and withdrew his hand.

  “Listen, I’m sorry about that,” she said.

  He tried to catch his breath. “I’m not.”

  She paused. Frowned. “Really?”

  Wasn’t he? He should be. Maybe she wanted him to apologize. “No, you’re right,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “We shouldn’t have.”

  “It’s late,” he said. “You’re under a lot of stress.”

  “And you were just at the hospital with your grandfather.” She looked down, shaking her head as if disgusted with herself. “I took advantage.”

  He swallowed a laugh. She looked so serious. Advantage? Of him?

  “Maybe we took advantage of each other,” he said, not wanting to start an argument. He was still trying not to laugh at the idea of her stealing something from him that he’d been dying to give her for days.

  He was going to relive that kiss for a long time.

  “We don’t really want to do this, obviously,” she said. “But sometimes you can’t help being a little curious. I’m sorry. As your landlord, I never should’ve come into your bedroom and put you in such an awkward position.”

  The only thing awkward about his position was that he was standing up several feet away from her instead of lying down with her in his arms. Why couldn’t they just let nature take its course? They had chemistry, they were lonely. Especially him. How long had it been since he’d had sex?

  As if he didn’t know. He was just embarrassed to admit it, even to himself. Hiking alone in the wilderness wasn’t known for its rich dating opportunities. The most exciting it had gotten over the past six months was exchanging a smile and hello with a cute woman who was also filtering her water at the creek, and that woman turned to wave at her cute boyfriend, a shirtless, muscular specimen with a rifle and a sharp knife. Talk about taking the romance out of the air.

  He forced himself to look realistically at the situation. As adorable as Jane was, getting involved with her just because he needed a little company was like using a nuclear warhead to light a birthday cake.

  There would be fallout.

  “As much as I’d like to argue with you,” he said, “you’re probably right about this being impractical.”

  She laug
hed in a strained, pained kind of way. “Can you imagine what Troy would say?”

  Troy would slice off his balls and feed them to the biggest koi in the pond outside Grandfather’s bedroom. He laughed with about as much mirth as she had. “Too bad. I like you. I think we’d have fun.”

  She rolled her eyes as if fun were an absurd concept that had no commanding role in her life, then she moved to the door, where she paused. “Listen, I totally understand if you don’t want to go to my sister’s party—”

  “No, we shouldn’t let this ruin things. We’re friends, we’re housemates, we’re going to that party. No big deal. It only becomes a big deal if we let it become a big deal. Deal?”

  She gave him a genuine smile then. “Deal.”

  “Just let me know when and where, and I’m there.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” She stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind her.

  No problem they couldn’t handle anyway.

  11

  First thing in the morning, Jane prepared for the day as she always did, even though it was Saturday. Fresh clothes, flat-ironed hair, expensive moisturizer, contoured eye shadow. And to keep herself from looking excessively dressed up, she put on sneakers. Nothing fancy, just cheap Keds, but they were as white as a movie star’s teeth, having never been worn outside. She used a lint roller to remove the strands of Shadow’s dark fur on the toes.

  At nine, she called Ian. As she’d feared, her sister Billie answered. She hadn’t wanted to talk to Billie yet, but it probably couldn’t be helped. Of course she was happy for Billie. She was. But she wanted…

  Damn it, she wanted…

  “Hey, are you psychic or what?” Billie asked after she answered. “We were just talking about you.”

  In the background, Jane could hear Ian protesting gently.

  “She knows it’s only good things,” Billie said, her voice slightly muffled. And then more loudly, “I know we’re not really religious, but would you be the godmother for it?”

  “You’re still saying ‘it,’” Jane said. But she felt a wave of love.

  “It’s going to love you,” Billie said. “You always give excellent presents. I still have a sweater from ten years ago you gave me for Christmas.”

  “Is that all it—I mean, the baby—will need from me, you think? Presents?” Jane asked.

  “You know we always liked the relatives who gave us good presents the best,” Billie said. “I’m just being realistic here. For you, not for me. As the mother, I’ll have to be tough.”

  Jane had to laugh. “You?”

  “I’ll have to be. All my spoiling will be through others. I can’t have it walking all over me.”

  Jane couldn’t imagine any other outcome. Billie was too sweet. “I’m sure Ian can help with discipline.”

  “Not if it’s a girl. Can you imagine how spoiled it’ll be?”

  “When’s the ultrasound so we can look forward to your using a gendered pronoun when discussing the…” At this point Jane was struck, for the first time, with the realization that she was going to be an aunt. Her sister was going to have a baby, and that baby would be her niece or nephew, a little being with tiny toes and sticky hands and cheeks like chubby silk pillows. And the thought made her throat tighten, making further speech impossible.

  How could she have been such a selfish bitch? Billie was going to have a baby!

  Nose starting to run, Jane reached for a tissue and said quickly, “Listen, how are you feeling? Are you tired? Throwing up? Anything like that?”

  “Nothing,” Billie said brightly. “I can’t feel anything. Even when Ian is pounding—right, well, not even during intimate moments.”

  Jane blew her nose and didn’t bother to move the phone mic out of range of the blast. Hearing about Ian pounding into her sister was not a detail she relished. “Well, I’m glad to hear you don’t have morning sickness yet. Hopefully that will last.”

  “You’re such a downer.”

  “What? I said it was good.”

  “But it might not last,” Billie said.

  Jane opened the cabinet below the sink and threw away the tissue. The threat of her being a downer was exactly why her mother had demanded she bring a date to the party. “Listen, I have two things I wanted to talk about.” Before Billie could jump in with suggestions and guesses, Jane went on. “First, I’m going to ask Ian if he’s still willing to put in that door. Second—”

  “Oh, I’m sure he is! Ian, you’ll put in the door for Jane, right? She’s asking.”

  Jane waited a beat, straining to decipher the mumble from Ian in the distance. All she could hear was a grunt.

  “He’d love to do it!” Billie said. “Thanks for giving him the opportunity to enlarge his skill set.”

  “I thought he’d done this before,” Jane said, suddenly having doubts. There was still time to hire somebody, although that would take money she’d rather pocket on the chance the job didn’t get reinstated and would probably take longer too.

  “Don’t worry. Are you crazy? Of course he can do it,” Billie said. “If not the first try, then the second. Third time, max. Isn’t that right, honey bunny? You’re very persistent.” Then she yelped, sounding as if she were avoiding a projectile.

  Jane was tiring of the conversation. The fitful sleep after the… nightcap… with Grant hadn’t fulfilled her sleep requirements. “Tell him I really appreciate it. I’ll pay for the permits and materials and tools and everything. No arguing.”

  “But why? He’s got millions coming out of his ears.” Billie snorted. “That sounds like bugs or something. I don’t mean it literally. I mean, the money is literally in the millions, especially this week—do you follow the markets? They were up— Oh, never mind, he’s shaking his head. That was last week? This week they’re down. Way down. Maybe you should pay for materials.”

  “I will.”

  Billie laughed. “Listen to me, I sound drunk. I just can’t believe I’m going to have a baby.”

  “I’m so happy for you,” Jane said.

  “I know you are. Mom has no idea how lucky this kid is going to be to have you as an aunt. And right in the same city too.”

  “Did Mom suggest the baby wouldn’t be lucky?” Jane asked, forgetting she didn’t want to know what their mother might have said. “Never mind. Speaking of Mom, she says there’s a party. Do you have a date yet?”

  “It’s the bridal shower, but we’re going to throw in the baby thing for free and call it a party instead of a shower so people don’t worry about bringing so many gifts. I’d feel bad having people buy stuff for us when we have more money than anybody. And this way everyone only has to come to one bash, which saves money too. Dad and his new and improved family from Seattle, Mom and the girls from here—it’ll make it a lot easier for everyone.”

  “You’d think you’d planned it,” Jane said.

  Billie snorted. “Nobody else will. Anyway, the date is… Ian? What’s the date for the thing?” After a pause, she said, “August tenth. Before school starts but long enough, hopefully, to see if the baby is, you know…”

  “I know.”

  Billie turned serious. “Honestly, if I had the willpower, I would’ve kept it a secret for a while longer. Then I could have gone through the party four months pregnant and pretended I was just putting on weight. But I can’t keep secrets from you. Never could.”

  Jane walked over to the window and looked out on the lemon tree, heavy with far more fruit than she could ever eat. Shadow sat below it in a patch of sunlight, watching the birds. “Thank you for telling me. I have a secret of my own.”

  “Ha! I was hoping you’d tell me! It’s about your new guy, right?’

  “You talked to Mom,” Jane said.

  Billie paused. “Email. She said you’re bringing a date. I wondered if you’d lied to her to get her off your back.”

  Jane smiled. Billie was a lot sharper than she seemed sometimes. “In a manner of speaking. He’s
just a guy I met last week. He’s renting the front room.”

  Jane didn’t have to share all her secrets.

  “How’s he in bed? I hope you’re using your queen, not the twin. Or did you put a bigger bed in there? Of course, you’d want to make it more appealing for Airbnb. Nobody uses twins any—”

  “We’re not sleeping together,” Jane said firmly. And they wouldn’t.

  “Just sex?”

  “Billie…”

  She was laughing. “OK, OK, I get it. But how’d you get him to agree to go? Knock off a week’s rent?”

  “Thank you very much,” Jane said.

  “Oh, please. What would it take for you to go to some stranger’s wedding and bridal shower?” Billie asked.

  “He’s just being nice. He’s very nice.” Too damn nice.

  Billie paused. “Is he? How interesting.”

  “It’s no big deal. I asked, he said sure. He’s very easygoing.” Jane could hear the defensive edge in her own voice. “And he… never mind.” She was going to tell Billie about sort of losing her job and how Grant, as one of the family, might feel guilty about it, but she didn’t want to get into it. Definitely didn’t want to try to explain that one.

  “What’s his name?” Billie asked, far too curious.

  “I forget.”

  Billie laughed. “Nice try, but I’ll need to know for the invitation. Mom’s doing it with ink out of a pen. You know, Caligula or whatever.”

  “Calligraphy.”

  “Right. So we need to know. What’s his name?”

  “Guest. First name ‘and.’ As in, ‘Jane Garcia and Guest.’”

  “Mom will get suspicious if you don’t know his name,” Billie said.

  “I’ll introduce him there. You’ll be enough of a distraction until then,” Jane said. “You’d think a woman with four children wouldn’t be so excited about a baby.”

  “She lives for babies. And with it being Ian’s kid, too, she and his mom are going crazy.”

  Billie and Jane’s mother was longtime best friends with Ian’s mother, both of them in the same town up in suburban Sonoma County where Jane had grown up.