The Wilde One
An Old Town Country Romance
Savannah Young
The Wilde One
Copyright © 2014 by Savannah Young
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.
This is a work of FICTION.
Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author's offbeat imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead or previously dated by the author, is entirely coincidental.
“Road Song” Copyright © 2014 by Dan Patrick Fulton. Lyrics included by permission of the songwriter.
A SHORT ON TIME BOOK:
Fast-paced and fun novels for readers on the go!
For more information, visit the website: www.shortontimebooks.com
This book is dedicated to the men and women who served in the United States military in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Author’s Note
Tucker Wilde is a fictional character and the bombing in which he was wounded was not an actual event. However, I based the bombing in which Tucker was injured on a real bombing that occurred in Mosul, Iraq in 2004. Four days before Christmas, someone walked into a US military base dining hall during lunch and blew himself up. According to news sources, fourteen U.S. military personnel, four American civilians and three Iraqi soldiers were killed and over seventy people were wounded in the attack.
For more information:
http://www.nbcnews.com/id/9013247/ns/world_news-mideast_n_africa/t/details-mosul-mess-hall-bombing-emerge/
One
Tucker
“You look different,” Savage says, then downs the last of his pint of ale.
“Different how?” I prod even though I have an idea what he’s going to say. I look more normal. Like I fit into society rather than looking like an outcast.
Savage shrugs. He’s never been a person of many words. We’re like two peas in a pod that way. Even though he rarely says very much, with just one sideways glance Savage can have the biggest and meanest guys on the planet shaking in their cowboy boots.
People say that about me too.
“Do you want another?” I ask, even though I can guess his response. Savage always orders two pints and drinks them at the far corner of the bar. There are worse ways of coping with the past than drinking a few beers every night before he goes home to an empty apartment. I should know. I’m a master of poor coping skills.
“Hit me,” Savage says.
I pour him another pint and take away the empty.
“You look good.”
I’m surprised by the compliment. I’d never use the word good to describe anything about me. But I do look better than I have since I got back from Iraq.
“Drink your beer,” I tell him because I’m not in the mood to explain what’s been going on in my life.
Savage was in Iraq about the same time I was and he’s the closest thing I’ve got to a friend. I’m not one for relationships. Life is too short and relationships are too painful. When you get close to someone, you usually just end up getting hurt.
But like me, Savage isn’t the type of guy who gets too close to people. The most obvious reason is the way he looks: he’s big and scary. Also just like me.
Savage and I lift weights together, and in a fight it would be a close match. Not that either of us would ever start a fight but we would definitely end one if we had to.
It’s a weeknight and the bar is almost deserted except for a few of the regulars. That’s why I’m surprised when I see a couple I don’t recognize walk in and look around. The guy’s wearing all leather and carrying two helmets, so he’s obviously a biker. He looks about my height, six feet two inches and he’s big. The girl looks tiny standing next to him. She’s the definition of the word waif. She looks like a strong wind could pick her up and blow her away. Not a good thing in Old Town where it’s windy most of the time.
The most interesting thing about her, though, is her coloring. I’ve never seen someone so fair in my life. I’m the only blond in my family but I’m not even close to this girl. Her long hair is so light it’s practically white. And her skin is the color of milk. She looks like a princess who just stepped out of a fairytale, as corny as that sounds.
I can’t help but notice that she doesn’t look like she wants to be here. Or maybe she doesn’t want to be with the guy. It’s hard to tell. But she doesn’t look happy. If anything, she looks scared.
As the couple steps closer to the bar, I can see the girl is shaking. I’m not sure whether she’s shaking because she’s scared, or because it’s January and it’s freezing outside and she’s wearing a tiny spring jacket that barely fits. It almost looks like a jacket for a kid it’s so small on her. Not that she’s much bigger than a kid herself.
What kind of an asshole wears a thick leather jacket while he lets his girl freeze? I’m really not liking this guy at all. And when I see him grab her by the elbow, so roughly she almost comes off the floor, I can feel every hair on my body stand at attention.
Is it possible to hate a guy I don’t even know?
I tap Savage’s arm and motion toward the couple who are now headed in our direction. Savage checks them out and then glances over at me and frowns.
“You serve food?” The guy asks as he places an arm on the bar.
“We’ve got a full menu,” I reply.
I don’t like it that the guy won’t look me in the eye. His eyes are darting around the place like a nervous rabbit.
When I glance at the girl, she’s looking right at me. Her grey eyes are wide and I can’t help but feel like she wants to say something. It’s like she’s willing me to read her thoughts and that scares the hell out of me. I’m not sure why. I’m rarely afraid of anything. I saw some horrible shit in Iraq but even that didn’t scare me as much as this girl. It’s like she can see right through me. No one has ever made me feel like that in my life.
“Sit down,” the guy orders, and the girl quickly takes a seat at the bar.
When she rests her thin arms on the counter, I can see she’s still shaking. I feel the need to do something but I’m not sure what.
I grab two menus from the back of the bar and try to hand them to the guy but he just waves them away. “A burger and fries. And she’ll have a salad.”
I glance at the girl. Just as I’m about to ask if that’s what she really wants, she quickly turns away.
I don’t like anything about this situation. I don’t like this guy at all and I definitely don’t like the way he’s treating her. But I don’t want any trouble, so I try to keep things cool.
“Do you want anything to drink?” I ask. “Maybe a hot tea?” I make a point of looking directly at the girl. “You look cold.”
The guy glares at me. “She’s fine. Give her a water. And I’ll have a beer. Dos Equis.”
I want to see if I can push this guy’s buttons just a little so I get a bottled water from the fridge. Just as I’m about to open in, the guys says, “No. Not that. Just tap water.”
That’s what I figured. Cheap prick.
“The bottled water’s on me,” I say, as I open the bottle in his face.
The jerk’s dark eyes narrow to angry slits and he looks like he might say something until Savage moves from the end of the bar and takes a seat next to him.
“Problem?” Savage asks the guy.
The guy’s eyes bounce between me and Savage. He could give either one of us a good fight but there’s no way he’d be able to handle both of us at the same time.
He shakes his head. “No problem.”
“I’ll put your order in.” When I glance over at the girl, her head is down and she’s looking at the bar. She looks almost pathetic. She could be the saddest person I’ve ever seen if I didn’t have to look at myself in the mirror every day.
I notice she wears her long hair so it hides the sides of her face. I’m not sure why. She’s beautiful.
When the girl goes to take a sip of the bottled water I gave her, she glances at the guy first. He shakes his head and she quickly puts the bottle back down.
I want to kick myself when I realize I should have just given her the tap water. At least she’d have something to drink.
“We’re kind of in a hurry,” the guy says.
I glare at him but I get the hint. I place their order with the kitchen. Then I grab a bottle of Dos Equis, open it and set it next to the guy with a tall glass.
He gives a quick wave of his hand. “I don’t need a glass.”
When I glance over at Savage, I see he’s staring at the girl, his brow furrowed. I have a feeling he’s probably wondering the same thing I am. What is she doing with this jerkoff?
A closer look at the two of them tells me that he’s older than she is. Maybe a lot older, although sometimes it’s hard to tell. He’s a really rough character, so he might look older than he actually is but if I had to guess, I’d say he was in his mid-thirties. The girl looks like she’s barely out of high school.
The guy takes a big swig of his beer then wipes his mouth with his shirt sleeve. It’s so gross, I feel like handing him a napkin.
The girl hasn’t said a word. She’s just been staring at the bar. She looks so lost. Just a few months ago I was lost too. It took a lot of work for me to find myself again. I’m still not sure I have completely. They say War is Hell and I found out it was true the hard way. As I look at the blonde beauty in front of me, I wonder what kind of hell she’s been through. Something tells me whatever it is, it’s got something to do with the guy sitting next to her.
When I get a buzz that the couple’s food is ready, I make my way into the kitchen to retrieve it. I place the burger and fries in front of the guy and make sure to give him plenty of napkins. I don’t want to watch him use his sleeve to wipe his face again.
I place the salad in front of the girl and wait for her to look up at me. When she slowly glances up, and our eyes meet, my heart actually skips a few beats because she gives me the faintest of smiles. I notice her quickly look over at the guy but he’s too busy cramming the hamburger in his mouth to even notice what she’s doing.
She grabs her fork and plays around with the food on her plate but never actually puts any of it in her mouth.
“Is it okay?” I ask.
That gets the guy’s attention. When he looks up at me, he actually snarls. “It’s fine,” he replies, his mouth still filled with half-chewed burger.
I saw some pretty disgusting things when I was in the army but this guy is just about as disgusting as it gets.
“I didn’t ask you,” I say, before my brain has a chance to catch up to my mouth.
Savage goes wide-eyed and I can see his body immediately tense. He’s ready for a fight.
When I glance at the girl, I can see she’s starting to shake again and I immediately feel bad that I upset her. I know I should just keep my mouth shut but the guy is really pissing me off.
“Well I’m the one who’s answering,” he snaps. “Back off.”
Of course, I don’t. “Can she speak?”
The guy pushes what’s left of his food away. His face is starting to turn red he’s so angry.
“Get up,” he barks at the girl. “We’re leaving.”
She practically jumps from the bar stool in response.
I know it’s none of my business. I see a lot of crazy shit working at a bar, so I’m not sure why these two are bothering me so much. I just don’t like the way this guy is treating her. Like he owns her. It’s not right.
I’m not much of a guy in most respects. I’m not smart like my brother Cooper. I’m not ambitious like my brother Hunter. And I’m definitely not charismatic like my brother Jake. But I always try to do what’s right.
“You don’t have to go with him,” I say to the girl.
When she looks up at me, her grey eyes are so wide with fear, it actually scares me.
The guy makes a point of downing what’s left of his beer. Then he removes a wad of cash from his pocket and throws it on the bar.
He gives me a deadly glare as he grabs the girl by the elbow and begins to drag her out of the bar.
I feel helpless as I watch him haul her away.
But what can I do? I gave her an out but she didn’t take it. Maybe she didn’t feel like she really could. I wonder if I should do something more? I can’t call the cops. The guy didn’t actually do anything illegal. I don’t think you can get arrested for treating your girlfriend like shit. Otherwise half of the male population would probably be behind bars.
I just can’t rid myself of the feeling that the girl is in trouble and that she needs my help. Maybe it was the few looks she gave me. Like she wanted to tell me something. Maybe that she was hurting. Or that she’s lost.
“Watch the bar for a few minutes,” I tell Savage as I head toward the door.
I spot the couple at the far end of the parking lot. It’s just starting to get dark so it’s hard to see but I can see enough to know that he’s hitting her.
I try to hurry over to them but hurrying isn’t one of my strengths since I got back from Iraq. My leg was injured so badly that I’m lucky I can still walk. Running is definitely out of the question. I guess I should be happy that I still have a leg. I know plenty of guys who came back without one. Missing legs, missing arms, sometimes both. I should be happy I’ve still got all four limbs, as imperfect as one of them may be.
When I finally make it over to the couple, he’s on his motorcycle and she’s on the ground. Before I can stop him, he hits the accelerator hard enough for dirt to fly everywhere before he speeds away.
The girl is in a heap on the dirt parking lot. I can hear her sobbing. I want nothing more than to take her in my arms and comfort her but I don’t want to scare her. She’s obviously been traumatized, and I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I’m a scary looking dude, so I hold back.
But I feel like I need to do something, so I slowly and carefully bend down next to her. “Are you okay?”
As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I know they sound stupid. Not that anything that ever comes out of my mouth is ever brilliant. But she’s obviously not okay. I just don’t know what else to say.
She doesn’t respond just starts to cry harder.
“Let me help you inside,” I suggest.
When she turns to face me, I can see there’s a little bit of blood dripping from her mouth and her cheeks are stained with tears and dirt. Even though she’s a mess she’s still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.
I can feel rage start to build inside me. I know it’s not healthy and that I need to calm down but I want to hurt that son of a bitch who hurt her. What kind of a man hits a woman? My mother taught all of her boys to treat women with respect and our father taught us how to worship them by the way he treated my mom every day of her life.
“Okay,” the girl finally agrees.
“Can I help you up?” I ask.
When she looks up at me, her big grey eyes are even wider. She just stares at me for a few seconds and I’m scared again. My heartbeat has quickened and I’m having trouble taking in a deep breath.
I don’t know why she scares me so much. I want to know what she thinking when she looks at me so deeply and thoughtfully. There’s so much that’s screwed up about me, she could probably try for an eternity and never figure me out.
The girl moves her hand toward me and I take that as a sign that she wants me to take it, so I do. I’m surprised by how warm her hand fe
els because it’s so cold outside. And I can’t help but notice how tiny her hand looks inside my gigantic paw.
I pull the girl up with me as I rise then lead her back into the bar.
My oldest brother, Jake, is now standing behind the bar with his hands on his hips. His eyes are narrowed and he’s biting the inside of his cheek, a nervous habit he’s had since he was a kid. I’m sure he’s wondering what the hell is going on. I doubt Savage said anything.
Also standing behind the bar, with her hands firmly planted on her hips and her eyes narrowed, is Harley Davis. She’s Jake’s, I’m not even sure what to call her, because he doesn’t do girlfriends. I guess she’s his friend with benefits. And she works at Haymakers. It’s an interesting arrangement considering my brother is a modern day Casanova who will bed almost any blonde he comes in contact with. And he really doesn’t even need a bed. He often takes girls to his office in the back in order to get busy. Which I suspect is where he was with Harley when the couple first arrived.
I ignore the glares I’m receiving from Jake and Harley and seat the girl at the table closest to the door. “Let me get you a wet cloth,” I offer.
The girl nods in response.
I didn’t know it was possible but she looks even sadder and more lost than she did earlier. I feel my chest tighten in response.
As I head over to the bar I can feel Jake and Harley’s eyes on me. I grab a clean rag and wet it in the sink, trying to make it as warm as possible.
“Mind filling me in?” Jake whispers as I pass by him.
“Later,” I reply, as I head back over to the girl.
“As much as I’d like to stay and see the show,” Savage declares. “I’m outta here.”
Before I even have a chance to say goodbye, Savage grabs his leather jacket from the barstool and makes a beeline out of the bar.
The girl is now trying her best to control the small heaves that are escaping from her chest. I take the seat right next to her and hold up the damp cloth.
She gives me the tiniest of smiles in return.
I know I should hand her the cloth and let her wipe her own face but I don’t want to. Instead, I ever so slowly and carefully wipe the blood from her mouth then fold the rag over and wipe away some of the dirt-stained tears.
The Wilde One (Old Town Country Romance) Page 1
