WYLDER

by Kristina Weaver

  “Teeny?”

  “Ally, I just don’t have anything right now. I’ve got two dollars to live on for the next week and a half and maybe a pint of milk, a half loaf of stale bread, and two cans of beans in the cupboard.”

  I’m trying not to cry or lose my temper with her, but it’s hard, considering I am already in a bind as it is and now she wants me to get into more of a bind.

  “What did you do with the money, Ally?” I ask when she doesn’t push.

  I already know, and it kills me. Ally isn’t a bad person, and I love her, my actions and constant foolishness where she’s concerned prove that, but it won’t negate the fact that my little sister has a serious problem.

  She gambles, a lot, and not even like most people do because Ally isn’t like most people. Her poison of choice is dice, a game that is so stacked against her it’s not funny to think about her standing at a little table in some alley rolling with money she should be using to support her child.

  “It was just that once! I’ve been better, Teeny, I swear,” she mumbles sullenly.

  But see? That once was enough to see my sister lose money that should have paid off a loan shark, money I gave her hoping that she’d get her act together and maybe start seeing that life isn’t set against the roll of a dice.

  “Ally,” I sigh tiredly. “I can’t keep doing this with you. I’m trying to help you, but I can only do that if you stop sabotaging—”

  “Leave it, then! Leave it. I’ll just do what I need to do,” she threatens, making my throat ache.

  Ally’s been one step away from asking her boss at the strip club to let her dance instead of wait tables for a while, and it’s only been my financial support, as little as it is, that’s kept her from doing it.

  I have no problem with girls stripping to make ends meet. Hell, my best friend, Miriam, is a stripper, and I don’t judge her because of it. It’s just that I wanted so much more for Ally, and honestly, even if it didn’t bug me thinking of her taking her clothes off to earn money, it wouldn’t make much of a difference.

  Ally would still be in trouble, because the truth is that she hasn’t stopped gambling and she won’t. She’d just have more money to throw away on dice.

  She’s been using the threat of this on me for two years now since my aunt Gemma passed away and left us alone. It’s worked but only because I couldn’t see myself letting Ally do it when I promised Gem I’d look after her.

  God, I don’t think I can deal with this.

  “I love you, Ally, and I hope you make the right decision,” is all I can say before she slams the phone down.

  I feel awful, and for a split second, I consider calling Franklin and asking him for the money. It doesn’t last long though because as much as I love Ally and as much as I want to be there for her and Tam, I just can’t do it.

  Franklin wants sex, plain and simple, and I can’t give that to him and still live in my skin afterward. I’d die if he touched me, and maybe that’s selfish of me in the circumstances, but I don’t care.

  I’m all I have left. It’s just me, and I can’t do that to myself.

  The doorbell rings, dragging me out of my misery, and I open it with a groan. Natasha’s standing there with a crying Elliot on her hip, and my first instinct is to grab him and hug the heck out of him to stop the wails that are loud and getting progressively worse.

  “Teeny! Oh, thank God you’re here. I’m so sorry to do this to you, but I rang the bell at Lynx’s, and he’s not answering. I need to get to the hospital to see Aunt Joan, and I can’t take him with me. Kiera’s not back from the doctor’s yet, and I’m running late!”

  Oh God, no. I can’t deal with this right now!

  But of course I say yes and take the wailing kid. What the hell else can I do when he reaches out his arms for me and immediately quiets when I hug him to me?

  “I packed him dinner and all his favorite snacks, and he’s already had lunch so you don’t have to worry about it,” she rushes out breathlessly, barely giving me time to respond before she kisses him and rushes off, leaving me alone with a kid whose lip starts trembling.

  I adore children. I really do. From a distance. I can handle watching them every so often for an hour or two before their parents come get them, but for the last few weeks, if it hasn’t been Tam coming over to spend the day and sometimes night too, it’s Elliot because Natasha has a sick aunt in the hospital and as her closest relative Natasha’s been up and down to see her.

  Not that I mind. I mean, I don’t usually, but I have a lot to do today, and I’m not exactly in the head space to spend hours playing with Elliot while worrying about how I’m gonna eat for the next few days.

  I have no choice though, so instead of losing my temper over it, I take him out to the back and deposit him in the little fenced-off sand pit I put out there for Tam and drag a rickety old lounger over to relax and watch him.

  It’s hot as hell out here though, so bad I catch myself wanting to glance over at the neighbor’s pool as I have been doing lately more and more. The other day, I almost snuck over there for a dip when I felt like I was boiling alive in my own skin.

  The only thing that stopped me was the threat of arrest and the embarrassment of having to explain what I was doing in a pool on private property.

  I am tempted though, and I seriously think it over when a trickle of sweat meanders its way down between my breasts and poor Elliot looks at me with his big blue eyes that beg for help.

  My eyes flit to the left of their own accord, and I feel myself weakening when the crystal clear waters beckon me, crying out with open arms for us to come in, come and cool off and enjoy the buoyant calm satin of its embrace.

  I really shouldn’t! I shouldn’t, I think even as I scoop Elliot up and speed walk into my house, groaning when the heat hits me because this is why we were outside in the first place. My house needs a new cooling system and is like a sauna inside.

  “Sssh, baby boy, it’s okay. Auntie Teeny is going to help you out in a jiffy.”

  My bathing suit is a two piece, half tank and boy shorts combo, in a shade of blue that caught my eye ages ago. I haven’t ever worn it, thanks to the glaringly obvious fact that I don’t have anywhere to wear it to unless I prance around in my vegetable patch in the thing.

  I’m happily surprised to see that it looks good on me, and with a smile of pure ego, I undress Elliot, put on a new diaper and shorts, and slap on a healthy amount of expired sunblock.

  He squeals when I take him out back again and he notices the direction we’re going, his arms and legs doing cartwheels when he sees the pool. I don’t have armbands or one of those buoyancy suits kids should wear, but I’m going to hold him the whole time, for the five minutes we’ll be in there, I tell myself sternly.

  Just have a quick dip, cool off, and get the hell out.

  My neighbor is a ghost most days, and despite my efforts to welcome him, I haven’t once met the guy. I know from Nat that he’s a single guy and that he works long hours trying to get his construction company off the ground, but I haven’t ever done anything but catch a glimpse.

  We’re neighbors, and our properties border each other, but we’re not exactly sitting on top of each other with the distance that his huge yard creates.

  The only reason I know he’s a big guy is because that one time I saw him come out back he was with Natasha and he looked so huge next to her I couldn’t help but notice his height.

  Elliot squeals again when I finally reach the pool, and I find myself laughing when I step down and he tries to lunge out of my arms into the cold water.

  Oh God, that feels nice, so cool and soft against my skin, I think, sinking down on the step and grinning when Elliot slaps the water and coos.

  I really do like kids, I think, smiling when I lower him to his neck and get a sigh of appreciation for my efforts. He starts kicking excitedly and babbling when the water splashes, and I laugh, really loving the happiness that you only ever see in the innocent. />
  “That’s it, little guy. You know, if you can swim and kick those legs, you may walk soon. It’s time you started walking instead of scooting around on your butt.”

  Elliot laughs and looks at me as if he understands, and I feel a squishy bubble of love form inside right before it bursts and I whip around in shocked horror.

  “You know, this is private property.”

  Holy mother of the baby Jesus in Bethlehem!

  I scream loudly and almost drop Elliot, fumbling for him when he splutters and lets out an indignant cry. Oh my God! Ohmygodohmygoohmygod!

  Freezing, because I am almost boneless with shock from the scare I just received, I juggle a flailing, screaming Elliot and twist to see a man glaring down at me from the side of the pool, his green swim trunks grabbing my attention—oh wowza—before I shift my eyes up to meet his.

  I know what I must look like, because my eyeballs are screaming at my lids to lower before they pop right out and my jaw is tickling my chest it’s open so wide.

  I can’t do anything else though, and it’s not just shock making me resemble Rodney Dangerfield. Nuhuh, it’s the sight before me as I slowly take in strong thighs, ABS with a capital a, b and s, and a face that is harsh and oh so compelling.

  The man is magnificent, from the dark-brown, almost-black hair that’s cut short on the sides but longer on the top and flops forward to the strong, almost distinctly Native American features and eyes such a startling blue I want to dive into them.

  Magnificent, I think again, opening and closing my mouth like a gaping fish.

  “Who the hell are you? And can you get that kid to stop—Elliot?” he barks, swooping down to grab my charge with a frown.

  I love the kid but totally resent him a little when he immediately stops wailing and cuddles into the hard chest, his cries turning to coos when he hugs the guy and rests his head on his broad shoulder.

  Er, wake up! I scream at myself and try to make my eyes obey my brain while he bounces Elliot and mumbles soothingly at the kid.

  “What are you doing here? And why is Elliot with you? Where’s his mom?”

  The questions are rapid-fire, and somehow I manage to form a coherent thought as I scramble out of the water and dive for a towel.

  “I-I live next door, and I’m babysitting Elliot for Nat for the afternoon, and I swear I didn’t want to come over, but Elliot was looking at the pool, and I was only gonna dip us both in, but then it was so cool, and I just wanted to cool him down, and I don’t have a pool or air-conditioning because the stupid unit broke last month and—”

  I stop when his loud, ear-splitting whistle assaults my ears and stand gaping while Elliot grins and smacks his cheeks to get him to repeat the awful sound.

  “You live next door? You’re Albertina Hughs?” he barks at me, his eyes pinning me to the spot as I wrap myself tight to hide my body and hopefully the chill-pebbled nipples that aren’t hard to miss.

  “Yeah?”

  No idea why I answer it as a question, but I can only surmise it’s because right now I am so spellbound by his face I don’t know my own name.

  He doesn’t look at all impressed, and I guess I have to give it to him, this small victory, because I myself am not happy with the squeak I let out either.

  “What’s up with Nat?”

  Answer, Teeny. The man just caught you trespassing in his pool, he has Elliot, and you cannot stand here and check him out like a hooker on the make!

  “Her…her aunt is still in the hospital, and she had to go over and see her, but Elliot isn’t allowed. I usually watch him Wednesdays through Fridays because Kiera down the road takes him the other days when Nat has to leave him to go to the hospital, but Kiera has a doctor’s appointment for a rash that won’t go away, and so, I guess I was the last resort, and really, it’s a good thing I had the day off today because I’m usually only home after seven on a Tuesday and—”

  “Jesus, lady! Do you not need to breathe between sentences?” he snarls, making me stop again, this time with narrowed eyes and a whole lot of irritation.

  Yeah, great, keep babbling, Teeny, and maybe he’ll shoot you to save his ears, I growl, hating that I’m a little hurt because he’s a meanie.

  “Sorry. I, uh, I’m just nervous because well…” I wave at the pool and blush, knowing I just got caught red-handed and I have no leg to stand on.

  He looks down at me, the pool, and then back again, and I see his mind working before his lips quirk. Hot damn.

  “Because, well…you’re trespassing and swimming in my pool without permission?” he asks, chuckling when I dig a toe into the grass beneath me and bite my lip guiltily.

  “Sorry? I know it was wrong and all, but it’s—”

  “Like a sauna in your house. Got it. And don’t worry. I’m not pissed, just a little annoyed that I never offered before and, yeah, a little surprised to see a strange, hot woman in my pool, is all.”

  This time he does laugh because I blush so red I feel my entire body flame with it.

  “I, uh, I’ll just take him and go home…” I start, reaching for Elliot.

  Damn kid. He’s a traitor as I see it when one look at my reaching hands has him screaming and throwing his chubby arms around…

  “What’s your name?” I ask suddenly because I can’t keep thinking about my hot neighbor in terms of ‘he.’

  “Lynx Wylder at your service, ma’am.”

  I almost melt into a lust-filled puddle right there when he gives me a full-on smile and I see a dimple pop on his cheek. Oh sweet Lord have mercy. I don’t have but two dollars to rub together, and my vibrator ran out of battery power about ooooh a year ago, I think, mentally fanning myself.

  “Teeny,” I breathe, wondering if some men go for women who throw themselves at them and pant like a dog.

  Probably not, Teeny, I snort, regaining my equilibrium by reminding myself that I can’t starve just to buy batteries, and thinking about—or looking—at my hot neighbor will lead me to screaming and begging a piece of plastic to work. Just two minutes!

  My breathy whisper seems to amuse him, as does my name because he says it twice, as if acquainting himself with it, and then grins.

  “Fits.”

  Yeah, it really does, damn my stunted growth. I’m still convinced I stayed at five one because of the secondhand smoke Gran used to puff out like a dragon from the days of yore.

  “Er, so, uh, yeah. Thanks for, um, not having me arrested. I’ll just…go.” I say again, reaching for Elliot with a hardened heart.

  “Stay. Come on. The kid’s already wet and so are you.”

  Oh, buddy, you don’t even know the half of it, I think, crossing my legs to stave off the urge to spread them. Pervert!

  I should go, run like heck, and spend at least two hours talking sternly about the dangers of violating an innocent, defenseless man.

  “Okay?”

  Ooh brother.

  Chapter Three

  Lynx

  The waiflike creature frolicking around with Elliot is just damn adorable, I think as I lean back against the lounger and bask in the sun’s rays drying the water still clinging to me.

  She’s truly tiny and has the coltish body of a woman much younger than the mid-twenties I’d guess her to be. She’s got slim hips, almost no boobs, and her butt is round for her size but still tiny compared to what most women nowadays carry in the trunk.

  Not that I mind because, unlike most men, I don’t find the bubble ass being surgically modified these days attractive. And boobs are boobs to me, no matter the size.

  All you need for foreplay and sex is a nipple really, unless you’re going kinky, and trust me, I know how to get around a small rack. I hardly know the woman, but from what I see, I like her.

  She blushes and stammers and has this tendency of biting her lip when she’s having a freak-out. Which means she’s been gnawing at the thing for the half hour she’s been here swimming.

  “This pool must cost a fortune to upkeep,”
she says when she leaves the pool with Elliot and comes over to grab him a towel.

  “Not really. It rains here a lot, so I don’t fill it all that often, just toss in one of those monthly chemical buoys and my pop mixes up a secret concoction that he’s been using forever. It keeps things clear and also doesn’t allow the mosquitoes to breed in the water.”

  Teeny looks impressed, and I find myself wanting to laugh for some reason when she gazes at her own yard and silently shakes her head.

  “I’m a contractor. I could have a hole dug for you, and a friend of mine installs pools.”

  Her snort is not ladylike or delicate, and I want to kick myself when she looks over at me with a smirk.

  “I could afford that in about twenty years, Mr. Wylder. No offense, but don’t look at everything through the eyes of a rich guy because chances are they won’t fit with what normal folk are capable of.”

  Her offhand remark has me bristling because she’s pigeonholing me with that statement, and the fact is that I haven’t always been rich. Yeah, so I grew up with money because my pop worked really hard to build his business, and yes, my life up until the age of nineteen was filled with ease and money, but it’s taken eight years of scraping and pulling ourselves up from the gutter to get back to a place where I have a comfortable life.

  Eight years ago, my sister, Sparrow, was murdered because my pop wouldn’t launder money through his construction business for the mob. I was in college one minute, pursuing an engineering qualification, and then the next, my triplet brothers and I lost our apartment and the dreams we had.

  Being one of a triplet bunch is great when you’re enjoying life, but once things get hard, that connection isn’t always easy. We all were miserable and grieving, and to make things all the worse, my pop started drinking, Mom slept all day zoned out on anti-depressants, and my two older brothers became robots who gave up great military careers to seek revenge on those who murdered Sparrow.

  Everything was happening all at once, it seemed, and then one day we were so dirt poor Wolf and Bear had to pool what little we had left to start dirty-dealing to get us into the underworld business so that we could become ‘mob boys.’