Of Winged Creatures & Nesting Grounds: (A Quirky, Sexy, Dirty Doctor Romance)

by A. Wilding Wells

  “Tell me what I am to you,” she says.

  I thread my fingers through her damp hair, imagining what it will be like when I’m with her the first time. “You’re a once-in-a-lifetime woman. That’s what. I hope you’ll accept my apology.” I could hold her all night. Every night. How satisfying to be in her arms, and to have her want that too.

  “I do. And thanks for the hug. And the talk. You’re good to talk to.” Her arms fall from me and she backs away one step.

  “I’m good to ride with as well. You still up for it?”

  “That’s skinny-dipping and riding in one day. Yeah, I’m in.” A smile grows across her face, like something I’ve never seen, and it’s all wrapped up in a soul that’s dying to be released. She has no idea the lengths I’ll go to for her.

  The piney post-rain scent swaddles us, as we saunter to the corral, my nose tingling in response, along with the familiar swirl of emotions in my chest. Sela was the only other woman I felt this kind of thing for. That unforgettable feeling that is rare and haunting. It’s the sort of thing you feel even when that person isn’t in your presence. Something that escalates and explodes like fireworks when they’re close enough to touch. And when you do touch, anywhere, a fingertip, the back of your hand brushing theirs, it comes to life. A heart-meeting-heart possibility. I’ve imagined more scenarios with Happy than I should have at this point. Jumping the gun again. For me, things are all or nothing.

  I see this ride as an opportunity. One that might allow me to get closer to breaking down her walls.

  Standing behind Happy, I cage her in with both hands on Birdie’s saddle. I lean my face into her mop of botanical-smelling hair and whisper at her ear, “Don’t be afraid. She’s gentle, won’t do anything to hurt you. Just relax and enjoy yourself. Okay, now, left foot in the stirrup, hold on to the horn and cantle, pull yourself up, and swing your right leg over.”

  She easily rises onto Birdie, her face bursting in a smile chased with childlike laughter. I thread her fingers through the reins, then mount my horse. We exit the corral, both horses encumbered with chock-full saddlebags of food, wine, blankets, and other supplies I typically bring on rides. The early evening air hangs windless and thick with moisture. Pregnant with possibility.

  “Look at you, my little bluebird. So beautiful.”

  “And blushing,” she says as her eyes glitter. “Thank you. This is cool… I’m on a horse. My first ride!”

  “And certainly not your last.”

  Chapter 31

  It’s up to me…to be free

  Happy

  He held me in that hug like I was the only woman on Earth. The only thing that mattered. I can’t recall the last time I felt so safe in anyone’s arms. Safe and filled with question. But mostly safe. What a feeling.

  We ride side by side on wide, wet trails, Birdie slipping now and again, causing me an occasional scare. But I’m mostly cool with this new adventure. More comfortable than I thought possible considering how nervous I was. I might even call it exhilarating. Not just that I’m on a horse, but also that I’m conquering my fears. Being brave is electrifying. No wonder people become thrill seekers. Always looking for another high. We might only be walking, but then again, for a girl who just this morning hadn’t gone skinny-dipping or horseback riding, I’d swear I was in full gallop mode. Flying. Who knows what the rest of the night will bring? The mystery of it flickers in my belly.

  “Have you always been brave?” I ask, my gaze fixed on Hunt’s face. The dark shadow of his jaw, the silhouette of his hat, and the sparkle in his eyes leave me breathless.

  “I might be too brave sometimes, as you’ve seen firsthand.” He tugs his denim shirt away from his chest. “I’ll never forget my first moment of bravery, I was in Kindergarten.” He flashes a wide and sure grin, the little boy in him coming out to play. “I was walking by myself down the hall of our school, and I felt someone grip my shoulder. When I turned, two hands surrounded my neck in a squeeze. It was a boy from my class, Jimmy Lamar. He had intellectual disabilities. One of three kids in our class who did. I’ll admit, with his hands around my neck, I was scared shitless. He was bigger than I was. And stronger. I asked him if he was okay or needed help. His lips trembled, and I saw fear in his eyes. He nodded and began crying then said, ‘Lost.’ I pried his shaking fingers from my neck and took his hand in mine. Together, we walked back into our classroom. I felt so brave and proud. I think he did too. When we graduated from high school, we crossed the stage together, hand in hand. Talk about proud. He works full time in one of my practices now, does all kinds of things to help out. He’s a good and capable man.”

  “Jesus.” My throat tightens. “Talk about a good man. You…you are one good man.”

  “Thanks.” He reaches his hand out to mine at the same time I reach for his. We link our middle fingers for a few intimate seconds, until he drops his hand and rubs the back of his neck. I really did like that. Short as it was. We found each other. Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to go?

  “I do have my flaws, as you’ve also experienced firsthand. Don’t go putting me on a pedestal.”

  “I’d like to hear more about your flaws if you can be honest.”

  Sweat drips from his brow, and he wipes it with one hand as his gaze drops to my foot then follows up my body. I fan my face and draw in a deep breath. I know he’ll be honest. I look forward to the time I can unlock more and share other parts of me with him.

  “I won’t hold them against you,” I assure him.

  “You may have to convince me of that. You might already be holding some of my flaws against me.”

  “That’s a fair statement, but come on. I did let you hug me. And I am riding with you.” I giggle as my heart skips a beat.

  “Yeah, and you probably crossed me off your list for good. I might be foolish, but I’m no dummy. I’m not safe for you. I will be though. Eventually.”

  I shake my head. The more he talks, the more I like him. The more I want to trust him.

  “Flaws please,” I say, cocking my head. “I’ll give you my best drum roll.”

  And boy, do I. I’ll bet he never saw me coming. He laughs so hard and opens his eyes so wide that I stop my noise making and join in the hilarity. Doubled over, I snort, tears sliding down my cheeks as I work to contain myself.

  “Holy shit,” he says. “Are you for real? You can beatbox?”

  “That’s one of my hidden talents. I can rap too. Go ahead. Make all the fun you want. I can Eminem any girl from here to San Fran under the table.”

  We stop at a small bridge, my legs brushing his. He reaches his hand out and touches my cheek. Something about it is so comforting that I place my hand over his, not wanting him to remove his tender touch.

  “You realize no one between here and San Fran can beatbox or rap? But you are cute as fuck, and I really want to kiss you. Maybe you’ll let me later.” He motions for his horse to cross the bridge before I answer. Yes.

  Birdie follows by rote.

  I catch my breath as my heart jolts. “Maybe. And, on that note, I’ll show you impressive after a while!” I yell out after him. “Now, get on with those flaws already.”

  He slows Houdini, and I ride next to him, all of us continuing on a trail that’s becoming more wooded and rocky. The elevation shifts as the cool, pine-scented air blankets us.

  “Okay, so here goes. I’m too forgiving, if there is such a thing. I already told you I’m overeager and rush into things. Maybe I don’t consider all the consequences of my actions.” He shrugs, and it makes me like him even more. Funny how a guy who just described some of his flaws reads as humble too.

  “You were the guy, weren’t you? The guy in high school, the guy in college. You saw who you wanted and you got them. You reek of self-belief and you have turned it into a flaw. Now, there’s the real flaw!”

  We crack up, and Hunt rides ahead through a narrow passage. He reaches up to a low-hanging evergreen bough and yanks it down, then looks back
at me and lets it go the moment I’m under the tree, soaking me and Birdie with a rain shower.

  Once our horses are side by side again, I ask him, “Why are you interested in me? There are so many normal girls out there who have zero baggage. I think so far that’s your biggest flaw: You want me.” I blush like a ripe, summertime orchard.

  He shakes a finger at me as he narrows his eyes and says, “But, if you recall, I like helping people. I’m drawn to individuals who need something and are willing to overcome things to get it. I like your quirks. I think they’re some of your finest blessings, along with your beautiful personality and hot-as-fuck body. Call me flawed, but don’t call me incapable of seeing a woman I want and will eventually have.”

  I roll my eyes. “You like a project? Well, there you go. I’m custom-made for you. Have at me!”

  “I will.” He licks his lips and my insides wilt. “Count on it, girl.”

  We come to a clearing, a grassy meadow overlooking the valley. I didn’t realize how high up we were. It didn’t feel very steep as we rode the trails.

  Hunt halts his horse and dismounts. “This look like a nice spot for a picnic?”

  “This looks perfect. All of it.”

  He ties the horses to a tree after I dismount. Together, in comfortable silence, we unfasten our gear then spread blankets, one over the other, on the wet grass. Hunt opens the wine and pours it while I ready food stuffs.

  “Okay. One more flaw then we’re on to you,” he says. “I also push boundaries. I disrespected your personal space today. It’s not that I didn’t think it was wrong. It’s that I did it regardless. Pretty ballsy. I took something from you, and it got me in trouble.”

  “Hunt,” I whisper, unable to look at his eyes. “Please don’t break my heart.”

  “Hey, little bluebird, look at me.”

  “I can’t. I’m too afraid.” My hand trembles.

  He stills it then tilts my chin up. And his eyes, oh. It’s why I couldn’t look. He wants so much. He’s too many fantasies. Guys like him, what I think he is, can’t possibly exist, can they?

  “I’m going to have to break into your heart, but I won’t hurt you, won’t shatter you. I’ll protect you from what you’re going through. I’ll help heal you. Let me. Please, Happy, let me in.”

  Chapter 32

  Clue~ swing without connecting *miss

  HUNT

  I figure the more honest I am with her, the more I bare, the more she’ll open up to me. I haven’t got much to hide, save the accident when I was just a kid. Hugo. I will always regret, always feel guilty about that night. At least I can save others. But can I save her? Happy, while she might prove to be a wild-goose chase, may be a possibility. Could she end up breaking my heart like Sela did? No question. Happy could break or break into any man’s heart. Mine.

  With the sun dipping lower and the mountains beginning their parade of colors, I sense Happy becoming more comfortable. The wine isn’t hurting, either.

  “I’m about to call you out on something,” I tell her. “Think you can take it? A little ribbing?” I poke her arm.

  “Yeah. Bring it,” she says, grinning.

  I hesitate for a few seconds then decide to ask. “You’ve never been with a man on any level, have you?”

  Happy’s lips form a circle of shock, and her face flushes. She looks down. I touch her arm, and she jerks away.

  “Hey, it’s totally cool, I’m not making fun of you.”

  She glares at me. “I’ve done nothing but barely kissed a few guys, so there you go. I’m as virgin as they come. Tra-fucking-la. Get what you wanted?”

  Why did I ask? Because I want everything from her. All her firsts. “Tell me anything about you.” I rub my finger over the back of her hand then up and down her spine. “Tell me what happened to you along the way. Was it your fiancé that made you feel broken?”

  “You really want to know the truth about him?” Her eyes narrow as she sips her wine.

  “I really do.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. Thank god she accepts. She leans in like she belongs here. I need her to see me as safe. I’m so grateful for the trust I keep thinking I’m losing. She’s like a scared animal: begging one second, cowering the next. Delicate but strong. Beaten down but unwilling to lose.

  “Sebastian lived in the coach house behind our home. I really don’t remember not knowing him. He was twenty-one when I was ten. He was always around and hanging out at his place was fun. He loved candy and junk food, playing Ping-Pong, and watching TV. He was funny, bright, and charming. And he was so handsome. Sandy-blond hair. Dimples. Eyes so big and blue you’d swear they were fake. His house always seemed to be crawling with girls. Teenagers of all colors and sizes. Sometimes, while I was watching TV on his couch, he’d be across the room, making out with a girl. I loved watching him.” Happy smirks.

  I offer a smile back, when she turns to me. “I would never judge you for anything you share.”

  “I know. But some of this is embarrassing, so brace yourself if I have a moment. The only person I’ve shared this with is my best friend, Cece. Well, her and my therapist.” She scoots her body around to face me, her fingers inches from mine.

  I cover her hand with my own. “I’m honored, and I mean that.”

  “I’m pretty sure he liked me watching, because it continued. I never told my parents or anyone. And no one questioned my hanging out there. I mean, the guy was a doll. Always helping my mother out, not to mention the work he did for my dad. My parents were older. My brother was a slug. Sebastian was a godsend.” She lifts her wine glass as I hold the bottle out for a pour.

  “Say when.”

  “I never say when with wine.” She giggles. I fill up her glass. “Thanks, this is nice, sitting up here, having wine with you and talking.”

  We clink glasses. “Yes, it is.”

  “I guess I’ll keep going, then?” She shrugs and I offer a wink in return. “So, Sebastian had a variety of hobbies. He kept a gigantic aquarium full of exotic fish. He was a photographer. And he painted unique subject matter.”

  “Let me guess.” I don’t even say the words. I just let my gaze fall along her body. Subject matter.

  “Yes.” She waves a hand down her front as a fraction of a smile forms on the corner of her mouth.

  “Got it, he painted you. I’m guessing unclothed?” We both nod, and I hook my pinky finger with hers, hopeful she’s okay to continue sharing something so personal. “And when did you realize what was going on?”

  She takes a huge gulp of wine, pinches her nose bridge, and looks away from me. “Not for a long time. He told me we were ‘making art.’” She finger-quotes making art. “I was super creative, so I loved being a part of the process. He said muses existed all throughout history. And I was his muse. We’d go to the museums and study the paintings for hours. He’d walk me through who the artists were, and what their inspiration was. His knowledge of art history was incredible. We were making art, just like all the masters before us. I never for one second thought what we were doing was wrong, since all the things in the museums looked like earlier versions of our work. We were modernizing art. I felt like I was part of a movement. I was proud. Not to mention pampered. He was left a tidy sum of money after his parents were killed in a car accident when he was eighteen, and every time we created another painting, I’d get a special present. A bird snow globe for my growing collection, or another live white dove to paint with food coloring. Everything was about beauty and art with us.”

  “Always birds?” I ask, recalling the snow globe from her bag the night we met.

  “Yes. He called me his raven. I didn’t know until he died what ravens signify to some people. They live on carrion…dead stuff. They’re considered the mediators between life and death, the ghosts of dead people. How lovely is that? Aren’t you charmed by me now?” Happy huffs out a long sigh and knuckle rubs her temple.

  “Hey, don’t do that. There isn’t anything you’re going
to tell me that’ll scare me away.”

  Tears fill her eyes. Where are her Christmas lights when I need them? She wipes her face with the back of her hand, and a sequin from the heart on her shirt makes its way onto her cheek. I peel it off her face, place it in my palm, and then kiss it, receiving a smile from Happy as it sits on my lip.

  “You’re not a raven. You’re my beautiful little bluebird. Did he ever touch or hurt you…or do you maybe not remember?”

  She scoots around, cracks her neck, and straightens her back. So bold and confident in her pose as she says, “I remember everything. He never touched me. I touched me. That’s what he liked.” She takes the sequin from my lip, placing it on her cheek.

  We both chuckle, though the stuff she’s telling me makes my heart ache for her.

  “To watch?” I entwine my fingers with hers, wanting to drape her in a cloak of protection.

  She focuses on my lips; her gaze slowly drifts up my face, then dances from my right eye to my left until she looks down and bites on her bottom lip. And that’s when I assume she’s embarrassed by how turned on she was by all of it. But, since I’m listening and not judging, she’s seeing me. Really seeing me. I think she’s even turned on by talking about it, telling me what she went through. I lean in, hoping she might come for a kiss as she wets her lips and swallows. Her pupils darken and dilate against her baby blues. Her breathing flattens, and she sucks in a deep breath.

  “Yes. And he did the same, but nothing more. He knew my pledge and respected it. Well… Sort of.”

  “Your pledge?”

  “I thought I mentioned it to you? I took a purity pledge through our church. Mind you, I had no choice. My parents were very religious. I crossed my fingers behind my back when signing that document as a minor. I would have let Sebastian do anything because of that pledge. I felt so rebellious and daring to buck that crap. It pushed something inside me, something I felt I was being punished for. Guilty by merely being a woman. Save it for him your father, your god. And it pissed me the fuck off.”