Sunshine Bleeds A Black Edge (The Wild Things (standalone) Book 3)

by A. Wilding Wells

  The Finch place no less. How the hell did he score that hunk of land? Lottery win? They never had money like that; almost no one in town did. Only the Klines, the Prestons, and a few others.

  “You’ve been missed, Ruby. Missed by many. Don’t let what happened ruin anything.”

  Does she mean my leaving? Or Opal’s death? Or what the hell? Why is she acting so weird? Must be a woman thing.

  But I have to ask. “What do you mean?”

  “The… Oh.” Her face blushes crimson again. Maybe ten times redder than the last time. “Just this town. That’s all.”

  So, why am I imagining it’s not all? Maybe I do need to visit Rebel’s farm. Even if it’s only to talk more with Etta.

  Chapter 7

  Rebel

  One of my favorite things about Ruby Mae was her silliness. She was the opposite of me, and I loved her for it. I was serious, gruff, and rough around the edges. I could have been a hardcore asshole, but she softened me. Made me a better person. She walked the line of playful-goofball-meets-goddess. And, while her beauty was the first thing that had caught my eye, her silly side and keen sense of self locked me in for life. Even as a teenager, she had depth. And it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen in a girl. Her emerald eyes were as loud as her soul, both playing my insides like I was her personal instrument.

  The year we began dating, Ruby had just turned sixteen. And, while everyone else was getting their driver’s licenses and buying or being gifted cars, Ruby was saving her money for world travel or a black stallion. Always walking to her own tune, she made me laugh the way she joked that she’d someday join the circus if her scholarship to Northwestern didn’t score her a job she loved. Then, for my sixteenth birthday, she gave me a honking clown nose. Something no one wants or needs a collection of. I loved the goofball she was.

  It might have been frivolous, but it never stopped. Every year on my birthday, except this year, I’d receive a clown nose in a gold box with the same note.

  Honky birthday, Wishbone.

  But that’s all I’ve received in all these years. That’s the only communication we’ve had. I’ve followed her illustrious career as a model. And, crazy as it sounds, I’ve always had faith she’d come home to roost. From the time I met her, she’d had her heart set on a cherry farm on the outskirts of town. We’d ride our horses out there, pick cherries… Then she’d make me a pie. Ruby’s cherry pie was heavenly. I’d give her all kinds of shit about her other “cherry pie” and how, one day, that too would be mine.

  When I arrive back at my truck, Ruby’s gone. Houdini? I ease onto the road that leads to the hospital, hopeful I’ll find her somewhere along the road.

  One mile in, I slow my truck, chuckling at the sight of her. My flannel shirt, flaps across her small ass as she jogs on the gravelly shoulder like a broken-winged duck.

  I roll the window down. “You still hold the mile record at the high school.”

  She flips me the bird. Her version, which is pathetic considering her current hand predicament.

  “After all that time traveling the world, I’d think your manners would be more sophisticated,” I say.

  “Are you planning to follow me all the way to the hospital?” She winces then presses her arm against her belly, which makes me cringe because I caused the pain.

  “Yep. I told you I’d take responsibility since it was my fault you fell. See how that works?”

  “Is this how we’re going to be now?” She glances at me then focuses on the road. “You rubbing shit in my face every five seconds? Your inner asshole is a big cocky man these days.”

  “These days.” I grunt out a laugh. “You know nothing about these days. Or any of my past days, either.”

  I ought to watch the road—and the filth coming out of my mouth as well. But I can’t help myself. I could stare at her gazelle-like frame running all day. Her perfectly shaped tits bounce with each step. Her graceful neck elongates when she eases her shoulders back with every deep breath.

  “After this, we won’t be seeing each other,” I tell her.

  “Oh, really?” She glares at me and laughs. “Didn’t you say something about helping me move Mom and Echo since this was your responsibility, Mr. Smart-Asshole?” She holds her arm up.

  “I am going to move them. By myself.” I smirk. I suppose this is us flirting our way back to each other. It’s a little weird but maybe it’ll get her to share the truth. “You won’t need to be there. You’ll get in the way.”

  “Pig!” she yells and picks up her pace, her long stride free and easy.

  I press on the gas to stay next to her. “I’m no longer Wishbone? I’m a pig?”

  “You were Wishbone for one reason.” She’s sweaty. Snarling. Sexy. And mine.

  “You remember that, huh?” Fuck if talking about it doesn’t make me hard.

  She stops and bends. I bring the truck to a halt and wait. When she straightens, she leans into the window and drops her purse on the seat, an open box of tampons falling out.

  “How could I forget the way you begged and wished you could put your cock inside me every time we lay naked? Wishbone.” She skims the bead of sweat traveling down her neck with her fingers. Then she licks them. “You wanted nothing more. ‘Please, Ruby Mae. Eight seconds is all I need. Please, baby. Let me put it in you.’”

  “Enough.” I slam my fist into the seat.

  “You sure?” She glances at my crotch, the outline of my hard cock evident as a bulldozer at a baby shower.

  Not that I had any idea how it would go the first time I saw her again…but this is not it. Us fighting an endless war. Me getting hard and wanting to toss her into the bed of my truck to make things right once and for all.

  She turns away, breaking into a jog after a short stretch of walking. I watch for a bit, soothing myself. Damn. I creep the truck alongside her.

  “Don’t you have a hardware store to run or some other girl to wishbone with?” she asks.

  “Ruby fucking Mae.” I thrust my elbow against the back of the seat. “I swear to God.”

  She was always full of sass, but she wasn’t quite as spiteful. Something besides world travel has made its way inside her heart. That slice of good girl I used to love and want seems stained. Time and age can do that. Perspective, as great as it is, can often hold its own net of debris collected over the years.

  “What’re you going to do, Rebel? Yank my shorts down so you can paddle my bare ass with your big callused man hands? You used to love getting me naked to do that. I’ll bet you’d like to know if I still go commando, wouldn’t you?” She grins, and my resolve vanishes further. “You think you’re so tough, but inside, you’re mush and boy and ache. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “What are you fucking talking about?” I’m hard again. I haven’t been hard twice in five minutes since…when? What is she doing to me?

  “Don’t pretend you’re ignorant of what I said. I know what I used to do to you. I know we have chemistry. I’ll bet you’re happy as shit I’m jogging instead of sitting in that cab where I could see you. I can tell by your face you’re hard. Again.”

  “You are filling your big shorts damn well these days, woman. The hell you think I am? A puppet?”

  “No!” She clears her throat three times. Then she growls and clears it one more time. “So I broke up with you and went to travel the world. Big deal. You went on and got married. Had a kid. I don’t get what’s got you so worked up.”

  “You!” I slam on the brakes, drop my head back, and shove my hands through my hair. “You do. Give me what I want. Let me know you have the ring and necklace. Tell me why you took them off in the first place and left. And tell me, why the fuck did you stay away so long?” My racing heart is about to suffocate me. Does she have any idea what being near her is doing to me? Killing me all over again.

  When she left, I bottled my hate for her and drank it down like venom. But then I’d be at the grocery store checkout and there she was. Ruby Mae Rose on the
cover of every fashion magazine. And, when I’d go home and pop a beer open, kick my feet up, and watch sports, there she was again, on every fourth commercial, riding in some sports car, kissing a guy, smiling and laughing. Living a beautiful life across the globe while I pined for her. Even when Paris died, the woman I needed most was Ruby.

  I know what that makes me. But I can’t help it. It’s only ever been Ruby. Some men fall in love over and over with a string of women throughout their lives. Not me. I fell once, for one girl. It was a deep forever kind of fall, one I’m still tumbling into, one that’ll never stop. There’s no bottom to this descent. No end. And that’ll make me either the luckiest man on Earth at some point or one sorry sucker hoping something can break my fall before my heart breaks all over again.

  “Get in the fucking truck already,” I tell her. “Shouldn’t be jogging with that arm the way it is. Knock this shit off and do as I say for once in your life!”

  I open her door, move her purse, then take hold of her upper arm to help her in. Then I fasten her seat belt, but not without grazing her upper thigh with the back of my hand. My mouth waters.

  “Okay, Wishbone. Don’t worry. I’ll stay on my side.”

  I can’t stop myself when I slide my hand between her legs, onto inner thigh, and grip it hard. Then I feather that spot in a tender, shared moment as she inches toward me. Onto my side.

  Chapter 8

  Ruby

  I could swear he was going to kiss me. I believed it. And, Jesus, I’m not sure what I would have done. Would I have let him? His massive hand on my inner thigh, his mouth so close that I could feel his breath on my lips. But his eyes said something else. A story of hurt and pain. And I wrote that story he’s wearing—every word. He may never forget or forgive me for the day I left, and he’ll never know what happened to me because it’ll hurt him more than anyone.

  Finally, in the hospital parking lot, we walk side by side toward the ER doors that open as we near. I glance at Rebel upon entering, and chuckle at the way he’s carrying my purse in ownership.

  “Hazel?” I yell, striding toward the desk in the emergency room, where one of my best friends from high school is wearing a white coat and a stethoscope around her neck.

  “Oh my God! I heard you were home!” she says as she scoots past the receptionist and scurries out the door. Her arms surround me in a hug seconds later.

  “You live here?” I ask.

  “Moved back a month ago.”

  I finger her stethoscope and smile. “My girl is a doc?”

  “Proctologist.” She glances at Rebel, who has a grin that takes me back to high school on his face.

  “A butt doctor?” I ask.

  “You won’t be seeing me.” Rebel chuckles and shakes his head. “Ever.”

  “You never know, Rebel. I’m the only ass doc in town.” She wiggles her fingers and laughs.

  “Wow. Must be weird since you grew up here,” I say.

  “It’s no biggie. So I see a lot of ass.”

  “Drinks soon?” I ask Hazel.

  “Yeah. We have years to catch up on. You fell off the face of the earth then landed on every cover of every magazine I subscribe to!”

  “Hey, Wishbone. I need my purse.” I shoot Rebel a big grin and hold my hand out.

  “Your legs broken too?” he asks.

  “Hang on, Hazel.” I march to him and snatch my purse from his side. “No, Prince Charming. I just figured, since you’re… Never mind!”

  “Nice to see you guys together again.” Hazel waggles her brow while I fish my phone from my bag.

  “We’re not together, plug your number in, babe.” I hand Hazel my phone.

  “We’re not anything,” Rebel confirms, sounding annoyed. He muddles through a pile of magazines on a coffee table.

  Okay, then. We’re back to this.

  Hazel cringes. “That would be me removing my foot from my mouth.”

  “We’ll talk over drinks.” I lower my voice. “He drove me here because he broke my wrist.”

  “I didn’t break your fucking wrist!” Rebel shouts from across the room. “Jesus, Ruby.”

  “I mean, shoved me off the roof of the Jeep.” I twist and eye him up while smiling like a goof.

  “Ruby!” He exhales a long sigh. “It was an accident. I would never hurt you.”

  “Oh, relax,” I tell him. “I’m just messing with you. You look like I accused you of murder.”

  “Get over here.” His voice drops low. Angry low.

  I feel like a dog who shit in his kitchen.

  “I’ll call.” I wink at Hazel, a nervous twist in my gut. Then I make my way to Rebel.

  I stop a few feet from him, his steely eyes holding a mix of annoyance and hunger. It’s a force field I’m not entering. But, then again, I could be wrong, because I swear it’s starvation I see beneath the surface.

  He crooks a finger at me. I take a small step. Being close to him is almost too much for me. He’s a magnet. Then he proves it when he hooks his hand behind my neck and presses me to come closer and we bump chests. What now? His Adam’s apple juts up and down, my breath faltering when he leans to my ear.

  “Don’t ever say something like that to me again.”

  Our stare is intense. A buildup of things gone by.

  “That I accused you of murder?”

  He nods, inhaling a deep, slow breath. Sweat beads on his brow, and his eyes narrow into irritated slits. Something about it makes him even sexier. Like he’s about to devour me.

  Yes, please.

  “I was questioned after you left town,” he says. “Bet you never heard that, did you?”

  My heart stops for a beat, a jolt of pain shooting through my belly. “For the Kline boys?” My voice falters.

  “Yes. What the hell else would I have been questioned for? Surely not your disappearing act,” he says, then hisses as his upper lip rises and shakes.

  His hand remains behind my neck, his thumb stroking up and down, making my knees weak, which is crazy considering the topic we’re discussing.

  “Why?” I ask.

  One eyebrow lifts, his head tilting, his gaze wandering over my face. It feels like an accusation and an answer rolled into one.

  “Because one of my baseballs was found in their basement.” He licks his lips while staring at mine.

  My heart pounds in wild accord to his answer and his nearness. And that tongue… The way he’s rimming his lips. God help me. I look away.

  He cups my cheek, steering me back to him. “And everyone knew that me and the Kline boys didn’t exactly get along.”

  I know the answer, but I ask anyway. “The ball I gave you for your seventeenth?”

  “Yes. The one with my initials.”

  “Right…so, do you want to talk about it?” I don’t know what else to ask. Mostly because my mind is racing as fast as my heart.

  Is there a chance he might have been involved in their deaths? God, no. Not Rebel.

  “Nothing to talk about. Go check in now.” He grips my shoulders then gently twists my body toward the receptionist desk.

  Well, that was awkward. And what the hell? I had two of those baseballs made, and I gave one to Opal. She loved Rebel so much and playing ball with him was her favorite thing. Where is her ball now? And why was his ball in the Klines’ basement?

  Nothing to talk about? Does he know something about me and the Kline boys? Is that why he’s so angry with me? But, if he knew, he wouldn’t be mad. Unless he blamed me. Blamed me and thought I brought that hell on myself? Jesus.

  The receptionist helps me fill out the needed forms. Upon my return, Rebel is sitting in the only single chair in the room. Sort of a You’re-Not-Welcome-Here sign. I sit on one of two couches, as far away from him as possible. It seems, based on the spot he’s chosen, he’s looking for some distance from me.

  But then he stares at me for a minute while I push my cuticles down. And he’s still staring when I’m finished, so I move to the couch closest
to him.

  There’s a weirdness between us. Of course there is. You can’t go away for years on end and think there wouldn’t be. I want normal back. Greedy? Yes. Normal might be as far away as China. Still, I’m pushing for it.

  “I saw your dad, I mean…Etta. He looks—shit. She looks good. Happy.” Well, that was smooth. I roll my eyes, dropping my chin to my chest as my face heats.

  Rebel nudges me with his elbow. A sign of hope? I rotate to face him. Calm eyes and small crinkles at the edges somehow offer an invitation to linger in his gaze.

  “She is happy.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles bulging like he and his sexiness have a pact to fuck with me at every turn.

  “And sorry for my stupid question, but is she—”

  “A she? The whole operation and all that?” He grins a proud look of approval. “Yes. All the way through. She’s all woman.”

  “You’re a good son, Rebel.” I trace my finger along the seam of his jeans until I realize I might be making myself more at home with him than he’s ready for. “You’re a good man.”

  Jesus, he has been through some shit. We both have.

  “Thanks.” He grins this adorable Rebel-from-high-school smirk that makes my insides knot. “Etta’s great. Never been happier.” He smooths his hand over the section of his jeans where my finger was tracing seconds ago.

  “That’s nice to hear. I’ll bet you played a big role in all of it, supporting him with his choice. Couldn’t have been easy.” I shake my head. “That’s a big change.”

  He doesn’t respond. Maybe I crossed a line, said too much. I tap my fingers on my kneecaps, willing him to keep the conversation going.

  “He almost took his life before he came out as her and decided to live his truth,” he says just above a gruff whisper, his voice cracking at the end.

  My heart breaks for Rebel and Etta.

  Our gazes meet, an understanding in them. A hint of history meeting thoughtful newness.

  “Shit, that’s intense.” I touch his knee then quickly pull away when he drops his gaze to my hand.

  He looks back to my eyes as if I’m toying with him.