Going Wild (The Wild Ones Book 2)

by C. M. Owens

  My legs are dripping with green, yellow and red. For some reason, my dad never buys blue. My dress is basically ruined, but it’s not like I expected any less. I’m going to shoot Nila a few times and paint her up a little when that damn song comes back on.

  That’s what she gets for being so annoyingly pretty and awkwardly sweet.

  A warm hand cups my cheek, and my face is tilted back up so that I can stare into Liam’s eyes that are twinkling with humor. His thumb strokes across my bottom lip, and he studies me like he always did, constantly trying to unravel every twisted thread that is knotted up to form me.

  “I’ve really missed you, Shirley,” he finally says.

  And I decide I’m going to need something stronger than beer to numb all the reactions I have to him. Because I almost, almost drag the tall bastard down so I can kiss him again, ready to throw my heart into the grinder.

  With Liam? I learned I can’t just have fun. I let him slip inside uncharted territory, occupying more of my heart than I realized…until I had to spend the last year trying to get over a guy who consumed me in less than a month.

  Then broke me.

  Now he’s here.

  Ready to break me again.

  The two choices I have are to be stubborn or be stupid.

  Stubborn if I pretend not to notice how committed he seems to be, despite the unlikeliness of it. Stupid if I trust him then he hurts me, even though I knew it was probably going to happen.

  I grab a bottle of vodka, knowing it’s my weakness, and turn and walk away.

  No one said I had to choose today. A girl can take some time to think about this sort of thing. I hear it’s what adults do.

  Chapter 12

  Wild Ones Tip #8

  Never get drunk first. You could end up hanging from a tree with honey all over your body, while the woodland creatures lick you clean. Or eat you alive.

  KYLIE

  Cold.

  Wet.

  Cold.

  Wet.

  I shiver, my eyes blinking open, and then shutting again. Then my eyes dart open as I jackknife up to the seated position, and…curse my freaking father and cousins!

  The air mattress I’m floating on is taking on water, and I scramble to grab the…oar? No, this is not an oar. Not unless I was a freaking gnome!

  That’s another not-so-subtle short joke from the five giant spawns of evil.

  Water laps at my legs, chilling them even as it tries removing some of the dried paint still all over me.

  The tiny little decorative oar looks like a kid’s toy in my hand, but I desperately start paddling toward the closest dock. Because I’m in the lake. The sun is out, and I’m floating in the middle of the lake.

  Because I got drunk.

  And then…fucking cousins and father.

  I’m going to kill them all.

  The oar is pointless, so I toss it aside, panicking when more and more water starts coming onto the mattress. The water isn’t as cold on the surface as it is about a foot down, but it’s still really cold.

  Even in summer.

  My eyes dart to the dock that is closest, and then…I meet a set of blue eyes as Liam walks out onto the dock, grinning as he carries a bundle of rope. Why is he shirtless?

  Why is his body so perfect?

  “Need help?” he chirps.

  I look around, noting that I am definitely on the Vincent side of the lake. Still.

  “No. I love being on a mattress that is slowly sinking in the middle of a lake that never warms up enough for swimming,” I tell him.

  He laughs before winding up then tosses the rope to me.

  It misses, landing wide, and he quickly tugs it back in, hand-over-hand, until the rope returns to his grip. Then he tosses it once more…and misses wider.

  “Do you need help?” I ask, smirking as he mutters something.

  “It’s not like I grew up on a ranch,” he quips, winking at me as he gets the rope in again.

  This time, when he tosses it, it lands on the mattress, and I grab it before it can fall off.

  “Pull gently and slowly, or the mattress will dip. Then I’ll have to kill you when I get thawed,” I instruct.

  He grins like I didn’t just make an actual threat, and he starts slowly tugging me to shore.

  “How are all those people good at waterskiing and stuff? I didn’t think this lake was for watersports.”

  “Only the Wild Ones are good at it,” I say absently, wincing when I shiver against the breeze. My dress is soaked, damn it. “Falling in is great incentive to learn to stay upright when skiing and such. Negative reinforcement and all. You get really good, or you don’t do it much at all.”

  He smiles broader, still slowly tugging me in, as I lean back, trying to put most of my weight on the rear to prevent the deflating mattress from capsizing. Those muscles of his are very distracting.

  He winks when he catches me gawking.

  “Terrible shame the way you’ve let yourself go,” I state wryly.

  He doesn’t even try to hide his cocky grin, and he tightens those ab muscles just to toy with me, most likely.

  “Did you see them do this?” I ask, seeing the dock grow closer and closer and tracking each inch of progress with relief.

  “No. I stalked you until you disappeared about fifteen til’ two this morning. I figured you went home.”

  My lips twitch.

  “Are you telling me you knew where I was all night long?” I ask, trying to sound amused instead of acknowledging the butterflies in my stomach.

  He arches an eyebrow.

  “Now that I’ve finally run into you, my stalking game is about to get strong. I’ve been holding back.”

  I can’t help it. I smile. “You realize stalking is not bragging rights.”

  The mattress bumps the dock, and he reaches out a hand for me. I clasp his wrist, and he clasps mine, then actually lifts my entire body up until my knees are on the dock. His hands go to my waist, lifting me the rest of the way.

  I shiver harder, partially from the chill of my wet clothes. Partially because he’s not wearing a shirt and all that firm, tempting skin is under my cold fingertips as my hands rest on his chest.

  He grins down at me.

  “So far I’ve noticed my stalking doesn’t bother you. It’s you thinking I might leave that seems to be the hang up.”

  I start to push him away, but he tugs me closer, tipping my head back with a finger under my chin.

  “I have no problem stalking you wherever you go. The only thing I can’t do is go another year without doing all I can to have you. All of you, this time. I’m tired of being fake. Tired of feeling fake. Tired of fake people. Tired of everything superficial. I want my life to be real, and that means I have to be just as real.”

  My breath comes out shaky, and my gaze flicks to his lips before I shiver even more.

  “Shit,” he says, dropping my chin. “Let’s get inside. You can use the shower to warm up and I’ll get you some dry clothes.”

  “I need my boots,” I say as he lifts me, causing my breath to catch in my throat. “What are you doing?”

  “Carrying you to the house. Got some grass that likes to cut up feet. Killian and Hale are going to help me get rid of it, but for now, you’re barefoot and the grass is still there.”

  How is it that this tech-geek has somehow seamlessly fit himself in on the Vincent corner of crazy, and he doesn’t even bat an eye? It’s all I’ve ever known, but during my travels, I’ve realized most people…would call the law. Hence the reason we have to deal with the troopers every summer when some vacationers stumble upon something…crazy.

  He carries me effortlessly, and I lean against his warmth.

  “My boots,” I say again. “I have to—”

  “I’ll go get them as soon as I get you inside.”

  I smile for no real reason. “They’re in—”

  “They’re in a box inside a chest that is latched and resting in Penny’s yard.
I know. I told you I stalked you all day and night.”

  He looks down as I try really hard not to kiss him, and he grins at me. “Stalker game is about to get strong.”

  For no reason at all, I giggle.

  I freaking giggle.

  God help me.

  Chapter 13

  Wild Ones Tip #4

  A Wild Woman always takes her hair seriously, but only the girls know why.

  LIAM

  I have an ace in the hole, but I’m saving it, hoping it doesn’t come down to me winning her over with something superficial to keep her.

  She walks out wearing my boxers—that are rolled at the waist several times most likely, hence the reason they’re so short—and a T-shirt that hides them from sight. Her hair is wet, and it makes her look entirely different, because it’s more wavy than curly.

  “It dries frizzy if I don’t have my hair stuff for the ringlets to form,” she sighs.

  I already know this, of course, because I spent every waking moment with her for three mind-fucking weeks. Even though I was in excruciating pain, those were the best three weeks of my life.

  Which tells you just how stale my life had gotten.

  “I have all the hair stuff you need in the bathroom down the hall. I remembered all your girly shit from when you were at my house.”

  Her eyebrows knit together.

  “You bought my hair supplies?”

  I shrug. “You were vicious when it came to your hair.” I mock a shudder, and she laughs. “Since I wanted to have you over here as often as possible, I stocked up on supplies.”

  Her hesitant smile forms, and I lean back, studying her. As always. I hate trying to figure her out, because she always throws me a curve ball right when I think I’m having a break through.

  She glances at my laptop near the table.

  “How’s the wifi?” she asks with a small grin.

  I battle my own smile.

  “Slow as fuck, but serves its purpose. I only need it on occasion.”

  She darts a glance to the Loki sculpture that’s proudly sitting on a stand, but then her eyes take in all the art on the walls, and a small breath passes through her lips. It’s all the things she painted while she was at my house.

  Which is a lot. Kylie paints fast. And she paints more when she’s trapped inside.

  She clears her throat, bringing her eyes back to mine. “Still have an Audi?” she asks, surprising me with the random shift in conversation.

  My lips twist in wry amusement as I shake my head. “No. Realized early on four-wheel drive was a necessity, since, when it rains, the dirt sections of the road get really muddy and impossible to drive through. Killian and Hale went with me to trade it in on a Jeep.”

  She perks right up. “You have a Jeep?”

  I nod slowly.

  “Then I guess I need to show you how to drive it.”

  My eyebrows go up as she stands.

  “I know how to drive it,” I tell her as she heads to the bathroom.

  “Highly unlikely,” she says, a hint of laughter in her tone.

  I sit and wait, thinking of how I never expected to go out on the dock like I do every morning and find her sleeping on a mattress that was floating—or trying to float—on the lake.

  I laughed, walked back in, grabbed some rope I fortunately had on hand for tying off boats, and walked back out. Then watched her until she woke up in a panic.

  If I’d known she was out there last night, I wouldn’t have hesitated to swim that fucking cold water and bring her in with me.

  Her father stayed away from me all night, but he cast several looks in my direction. No doubt it’s because I now know why he told me to keep my mouth shut about where I saw him. Or who I saw him with, rather.

  Now he has two reasons to want me dead.

  Great.

  Thirty-seven minutes later, she walks out with dry hair in ringlets, and she comes to grab her boots from the table, pulling them on.

  “These are some of my suedes, so we can’t get into too much mud. Just in case.”

  “Why?” I ask, unable to help myself.

  “Because something terrible would happen,” she says, looking up at me with all seriousness.

  I only grin. I’ve really missed that. “And what’s that?”

  She stands, looking like my favorite version of sexy—my T-shirt still hitting her thighs, showing only a peek of the boxers underneath, while her tan, suede cowboy boots with little blue, decorative flower patterns come up to her calf.

  “Someone would have to die.”

  I burst out laughing, but she keeps a serious face.

  “You’re not kidding.”

  She slowly shakes her head. “Mud doesn’t come out of suede too easily, if at all.”

  “So this will be the most dangerous ride of my life?” I ask, grinning.

  “Very possibly,” she tells me with a firm nod.

  I open my mouth to speak, but someone knocks on the door. I get up to go answer it, but Kylie beats me to it. She swings it open, and I see a girl—can’t remember her name—holding a covered dish.

  She takes one look at Kylie, darts a glance over her shoulder at me—I’m still shirtless, because Kylie won’t stop looking—and then back to Kylie before paling.

  She slowly steps back, just as Becky did last night, and I grin as she suddenly turns and sprints back to her Explorer, the dish crashing to the ground as she races away like death is on her heels.

  Kylie shuts the door, not even blinking an eye, while I try not to laugh.

  “So you move here to stalk me,” she says as she turns around to face me, “but you get a house on the Vincent corner of crazy?”

  Apparently we’re not going to discuss the fact she didn’t have to speak to utterly terrify a girl.

  “I had no idea there were factions of crazy levels. Only locals are privy to that knowledge, apparently, so I was in the dark until it was too late,” I tell her, smirking.

  “Touché,” she says, her smile slowly returning.

  “Maybe you should leave the boots here,” I tell her as she grabs my keys.

  “Why?” she asks, looking over her shoulder, as the sound of dirt flying up outside reminds me a girl is speeding away from here like she just saw the apocalypse coming.

  “Because I’d hate to die before I finally got you under me.”

  Blush hits her cheeks, and she clears her throat.

  Wordlessly, she takes off her boots, neatly placing them against the wall, and I grin as she turns and faces me.

  “Come on. I’ll teach you how to drive in Tomahawk.” She glances at my chest. “And put on a shirt. I don’t need any distractions or you might die anyway.”

  Chapter 14

  Wild Ones Tip #18

  Wild Ones won’t intentionally kill you. But shit happens. Buckle up.

  Wear a helmet. Sign a waiver. You know, the usual.

  KYLIE

  Liam is clutching the oh-shit handle like his life depends on it as I spin another donut, laughing when he hisses out a breath. Mud slings up, and I cut the wheel, blasting music.

  I howl into the air as I gas it, then take the next turn, using the perfect momentum to keep us from flipping. Because, I don’t really want to die, obviously.

  He finally loosens up and laughs a little, and I drive fast across the muddy field, glad that I left my boots behind, because the mud is viciously slashing inside.

  “Where the hell are we?” he asks, as I spin out of another tight circle.

  “A Wilder field. They own all the land on this side of the lake other than one little cabin an old lady owns.”

  “Old lady?” he asks, having to yell to speak over the music and roar of the engine. “No name? You’re slacking. I thought you knew every local here to share or withhold secrets from.”

  I smile as I take another cut.

  “She’s not a local. She’s a seasonal. Or used to be. She stopped coming two years ago. She’s a horror writer, and
she came out here in the summers for peace and quiet to write gruesome death scenes. No doubt she was killing the Wilders in the books, because they obviously disrupted the peace and quiet she came here for.”

  He laughs again, as I cut the wheel once more.

  “So the Wilders don’t mind you tearing up their field?”

  “Nah. They’ll come out here and join us if they see us.”

  Just as I sling out of another donut, a loud shaboom rattles the air, sounding like a cannon, some crispy fireworks, and a Titan’s whip-crack all at once.

  My chest vibrates and my body tingles as a pulse washes over us, and mud bursts into the air about a hundred yards from us, shooting up in a spray.

  Fuckity fuck.

  I gas the Jeep, driving like hell back toward the road.

  “What the hell was that?!” Liam demands, his relaxed posture gone now.

  “Tannerite. Warning shot,” I tell him quickly, just as another blast sends a pulse toward us, and another spray of mud flies up.

  “The fuck? I thought you said they’d just join us,” he says in a much higher voice than usual.

  My ass is clenched as the next pulse hits again, driving me forward. This is why those fuckers are wildcards.

  “They would…unless they feel like being dicks today, which they clearly do,” I say, mentally noting some serious payback. “And they might not know I’m driving this shiny new Jeep either.”

  “Motherfucker!” he shouts as mud sprays us, and a painful pulse has me driving that much faster. “This is a time when a phone would be a good fucking idea!”

  I laugh manically, unable to help myself, as the pulses get less and less intense, letting me know they’re simply fucking with us now. I blow out a breath, but Liam is still watching the mirror, worried they’ll come after us.

  “The Wilders don’t even have the Internet, much less a phone. Their main source of income is growing all the weed that our one cop deals to locals and various other towns. That’s how they make all their money. Only the Wild Ones are supposed to know that, so they keep everyone else off their land.”