Loving a Wildflower

by Amanda Torrey

  So she did. She didn’t miss the not-subtle groans Rose kept releasing, but she couldn’t stop talking about the ways in which she’d change Healing Springs for the better.

  After rattling off a few of her ideas for fundraising (and relaying her plan for feeding all of the hungry kids), Rose tossed down her dust rag, let out a deep breath, and placed her hands on her hips.

  “Girl, you’ve got to slow down.”

  “Did I miss a spot?” Simplicity pretended to misunderstand and searched the floor she had just swept.

  “You know what I’m saying. You’re talking eighty miles a minute. How do you get anything done when your mind is swirling like that? Geez. I need a nap after listening to you.”

  Freedom always said the same thing.

  “I have so many ideas, Rose. I need to talk through them so I can organize my thoughts.”

  “Well listen here. A lot of people in this town are going to think you’re nuts. Crazy. Off the rails. And maybe they’re right.”

  Simplicity looked down. Wouldn’t be the first time she’d been called crazy. Heck, she had a medical file that would back up their suspicions.

  She hadn’t thought she’d be viewed that way here, though.

  Simplicity fought the urge to run away and hide.

  People would think she was crazy. No biggie. Nothing she hadn’t heard before.

  She couldn’t let them get her down.

  She lifted her chin and stared Rose in the eye. “Maybe they are right.”

  Rose laughed. “That’s my girl. That look you’re giving me? The determination and stubborn eyes? That’s what you need. Lord knows this town needs someone to shake things up. I think you’re the best thing to come to Healing Springs in a while.”

  “Really?”

  “You’ve got to fake confidence if you’re not feeling it, girl. No ‘really’ about it.”

  Simplicity smoothed her hands over her oversized T-shirt. “Okay. You’re right. I’ve got this.”

  “I volunteered for many a fundraiser when my kids were in the elementary school. Haven’t had time since they started high school, what with their lovely father ditching our asses, but I can tell you that your ideas are solid. And if you need help, I’ll be here for you.”

  Simplicity squealed and rushed forward for a hug.

  “Now, now. Back to work. Too bad you couldn’t get that damn billionaire onboard. It’d do him some good to do something nice for someone besides himself and his stock portfolio. Geez.”

  Rose lifted her rag and began spraying down surfaces again, all while mumbling about the penny-pinching habits of the billionaire.

  The billionaire.

  In Healing Springs.

  Simplicity’s mind spun and twisted and tied in knots.

  If Rose’s mumbling was to be believed, the guy wasn’t the most pleasant man in the world. Apparently Rose had worked for him and finally quit when she couldn’t take the stress of his bad attitude and ever-increasing work load.

  “There’s a billionaire in town? This town?”

  “What do you mean, ‘this town’? This is as good a town as any.”

  “It’s a beautiful town. But I thought all the billionaires lived in other places.” Simplicity shrugged. “More exotic places.”

  “Oh, they do. And this particular one has houses all over the place. He stays here to be closer to his son, though if you ask me, they are two peas in a pod and might as well kiss and make up and live miserably-ever-after.”

  Rose rolled her eyes and mumbled so low Simplicity could no longer hear her.

  “How would I get in touch with this billionaire?”

  “You wouldn’t. Don’t even think about it, Simplicity. He’d chew you up and spit your remains all over New England. He’s not someone you should bother with. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Rose brought her hand to her forehead, then her chest, then each of her shoulders in the sign of the cross. “Grant me a forgiving heart.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Forget I said anything. Now either get back to work or get out of here so I can work.”

  Simplicity didn’t want to prod—well, she wanted to, but she didn’t want to annoy Rose more than she already had. This was a small town. People talked. She’d get the info elsewhere.

  “Simplicity, you’re doing a good thing. Don’t let anyone talk sense into you.”

  Simplicity paused, watching Rose as she dusted the corners and the tops of the cabinets.

  A smile started in the crinkling of her toes, spreading all the way up her body, through every nerve ending, every beat of her heart, and all the way to the part of her brain that often told her she was worthless.

  She much preferred to think she was on top of the world, and that’s how Rose’s words made her feel.

  Simplicity was on a mission, and this time she wouldn’t allow anyone to sabotage it. Not even herself.

  ***

  He didn’t want her attention.

  He didn’t want her to look at him like someone who deserved to be adored; idolized, even.

  He didn’t want her to come in here and threaten to heal parts of him that had been tortured, murdered, and buried.

  Any casual observer would argue that he had foregone his usual late morning walk to be sure he was present when she stopped by.

  They’d assume that since he had made sure the paths around the house were shoveled and sanded more than usual, that he cared about the wellbeing of the sprite who got herself into the situation of having to help him out.

  They’d be wrong. Dead wrong.

  Because his heart was as dead as the chicken he had started to roast.

  If that same casual observer were to argue that he was preparing his version of a feast when he normally opted for energy drinks and microwaveable meals, he’d punch said observer in the face.

  He had no other answer for them.

  Ethan paced his living room. Where was she?

  He peered out the curtain again.

  Why the hell did he care so much?

  He whipped the thick material closed and stalked down the hall to his exercise room. He vented his irritation in the way he knew best—physically, blasting heavy metal in his ears as he worked. After a rigorous set of push-ups and as many pull-ups as his muscles could tolerate, he whipped his shirt off and wiped the sweat from his brow.

  Hopeless.

  There was the word he’d use to describe himself.

  Pathetic.

  There was another one.

  A high-pitched beeping noise cut through the raging music. As soon as he ripped the ear buds out, he recognized the blaring screech of the smoke detector. When he entered the hallway, he walked through a cloud of smoke.

  Fuck.

  Waving his shirt in the air, he rushed to the kitchen to turn off the oven where he had abandoned the chicken.

  “There you are!”

  The cheerful voice of the woman he had begun to think he had hallucinated called out to him from beside the stove. She placed the roasting pan on the stovetop and flicked the overhead fan on.

  “Your door was open,” she said, smiling.

  He nodded.

  “So much for dinner,” he mumbled. He hated himself more at that moment than he did any other time of his life.

  “You’re better off, anyway. I feel bad for the poor bird who gave his life only to be burned like this, but eating meat is bad for you in many ways.”

  “I like meat.”

  “I know you do. I can make you a black bean burger. I have my groceries in the car.”

  He shuddered at the thought.

  “You might really like it. You should give it a try.”

  Her voice trailed off as she began to stare at him, reminding him he was still shirtless.

  “Shit.” He struggled into his shirt, pissed beyond words that he had allowed her to see the horror show of his body.

  “Wait.”

  He paused, hypnotized by the wonder in her voice.
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  She crossed the room in a blink, arms outstretched, fingers grazing his skin.

  “You’re so…”

  “Yeah. I know how I am.”

  He finished pulling his shirt down and whipped around to punch the wall.

  “Ethan!”

  He withdrew his hand from the hole he created, cursing at his loss of control. Now not only would she be disgusted by his physical appearance and the marks the enemies had left on him, but she’d have reason to doubt his stability more than she already did.

  “Go. Get out.”

  “No.” Her chin shot up in the air. “Give me your hand.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. He needed her to leave.

  “Give me your hand, Ethan.”

  Strength resonated from her small voice, and at that moment he was more afraid of her than the torturers.

  No longer autonomous, Ethan watched in wonder as his hand drifted into hers. As she lifted the throbbing knuckles to her sweet lips. As she stared into his eyes and planted a kiss on his sore spots.

  As she turned his hand over and kissed his palm.

  She led him to the table where she guided him into the chair he had brought from the basement.

  “You have two chairs.”

  He didn’t know why she sounded so delighted.

  He nodded.

  “Sit here. I’ll get ice.”

  He could have stopped her. He could have forced her to leave. He could have stalked out and left her alone.

  She rummaged through a drawer until she found an old dishtowel and filled it with ice. He watched as she gracefully danced back to him as if she heard a tune that was soundless to him.

  He wanted to know more about her. She wasn’t like other women he had known.

  He couldn’t put his finger on it, but she seemed almost childlike in her purity, yet he knew she was passionate and sexy as hell.

  Innocent and experienced.

  And not easily put off by a grumpy recluse with a tormented soul.

  “You know what I can’t figure out?” she asked, cutting through any potential small talk as she held the ice to his knuckles.

  He didn’t respond. He simply watched her while she gathered her thoughts.

  “You leave this house all the time. You’re always walking through town. I know you have a car in the garage. Why do you need someone to grocery shop for you?”

  “I told you to ask Miss Molly if you were curious.”

  “It’s your story to tell. I want you to tell it.”

  He growled.

  She didn’t flinch.

  “If you tell me, I’ll stop asking.”

  She winked and then blushed and he felt himself harden beneath the table.

  “It wasn’t my idea.” None of it. The shopping, the hardening, the insane, irrational, insatiable reaction he had to her.

  She arched a strawberry blonde brow, twisting her lip impatiently.

  He growled again, shifting in his seat.

  “I tried to turn down the service. Tried to chase them all off. It worked for a while, but then Miss Molly herself showed up.”

  Simplicity laughed, summoning his goosebumps.

  “She’s not one to take no for an answer, is she?”

  He grunted and shook his head.

  “She was my nanny for one summer when I was young. I owed her for all I put her through.”

  “I bet you were a toughie.”

  He fought the urge to smile. He had been spoiled. Rotten. A prince with a full set of privileges and material things and no crown or responsibility to a kingdom.

  “So why did she want to do it for you? I heard you were a POW. Is that true?”

  He yanked his hand away and shoved the chair back.

  “I’m sorry, Ethan. I tend to be too free with speaking my thoughts.”

  He turned around when he felt her hand flutter against his shoulder.

  One look at her remorseful face and his muscles turned to mush.

  “I like your honesty. It’s refreshing.”

  She didn’t smile from her lips, but her eyes sparkled.

  “It’s true,” he continued. “The whole POW bullshit. This town has a thing about wanting to honor heroes. Whatever the hell that means. She put me in that category and bullied me into letting them do something to honor me and take care of me. She made me promise to stop threatening to kill people when they came to my door.”

  She never made him promise to be nice.

  “You threatened to kill me.”

  “I thought you were someone sent by my father.”

  She nodded as if he had answered reasonably.

  “So the grocery shopping was your idea?”

  “It was the least intrusive thing I could come up with. Besides, this town hasn’t caught up with the rest of the world. The half-assed businesses around here don’t have self-checkouts yet. As soon as we get them, I’ll have no need to interact with any people.”

  “But how will you get Miss Molly to want to stop taking care of you?”

  He shook his head and ran his sore hand over his head.

  “Well I, for one, am delighted that this program is in place and that you are on the list. Otherwise I never would have met you.”

  He gripped her upper arms, squeezing tighter than he planned, but not easing up when he realized she was wincing.

  “Don’t be glad about that. You should run. Far. Get someone else to take over the shopping.”

  Tears shimmered in her eyes, but that strong chin darted up again.

  “Not a chance.”

  He clenched his jaw. His scars burned with imaginary pain wrought by the very real emotional turmoil she stirred within him. She wasn’t good for him. He most certainly wasn’t good for her.

  And yet she stayed. She returned. She served and helped and smiled no matter what shit he threw her way.

  “Why?”

  Muscles in his cheek tightened as she reached up to trace the scar near his eye.

  “Because you matter.”

  No longer ruled by rationality, he kissed her. Her tongue on his lips intensified the communication, and he pushed her against the wall, knocking a jar of pens off the small stand nearby. He kicked them out of the way and clutched the sides of her head, wanting to consume her. Her goodness. Her sweetness. Her unspoiled purity.

  He lifted her long hippie skirt and brought her to a screaming orgasm with his fingers before driving into her wetness with a not-gentle thrust. He loved this penchant she had for not wearing underwear. Easy access. Happy Ethan. She moaned and lifted one leg to wrap it around his hip, clutching his shoulder and scratching through the T-shirt.

  They finished together in a blazing series of hard, fast strokes.

  He brushed the sweat from her hairline and caressed her round cheeks, stopping to place a kiss on her nose.

  “You deserve better than this.”

  He thought she nodded, but maybe she was still trembling from what they had done.

  He allowed her dress to fall back into place, dropping his forehead to rest on hers.

  He breathed in her jasmine scent, paying careful attention to how in sync their breaths had become.

  “You deserve so much better.”

  She kissed him again, and though he felt like the biggest ass in the world, she made him feel like she had been in charge all along.

  “Did you know there’s a billionaire in this town?”

  He tightened.

  “Why do you mention that?”

  “Oh, well I have these great ideas for fundraising, and someone mentioned that it would be nice if the billionaire of Healing Springs would step up and contribute to the cause. I was shocked that a billionaire would live here. Not that there’s anything wrong with Healing Springs. I was just surprised.”

  Ethan surprised himself by letting out a laugh.

  Simplicity wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled up into his face.

  “So there is a trace of good humor beneath that dar
k, leering outer shell.”

  “You’re so innocent.”

  “I’d think you’d know better than to assume that.”

  He didn’t bother to tell her that there was a huge difference between sexual innocence and life innocence.

  “Get off the trail of the rich guy. Trust me, he won’t contribute a penny.”

  “You know him?”

  Did she have to sound so awe-inspired?

  “You could say that.”

  “Does he mingle with the general population in town? What are the chances that I could run into him? Who could I call to set up a meeting? I just know if he would listen to my ideas he’d—”

  “He’d kick you out and tell you to go screw yourself. That’s what he’d do.” Ethan pulled away and paced the kitchen.

  “How do you know? I mean, I do have a moral objection to money in general, but the idea of having billions sitting in the bank making more money while kids in this world go hungry makes me just… well…Ethan, why wouldn’t he want to help hungry children?”

  “He didn’t even want to help his own son!”

  Ethan bit his tongue, but it was too late. His anger had erupted and he had shown too many of the cards he usually held close to his chest.

  She didn’t miss the meaning behind the overly passionate explosion. Sympathy filled her eyes, and he knew that she knew.

  “He’s your father.”

  Her simple statement lacked emotion.

  He didn’t have any hopes for this thing between them, but having her absorb this information about him shattered any possibility. Possibilities he hadn’t known existed. Hopes he denied.

  “Just forget about it, okay? You hungry?”

  She followed him wordlessly. When he stopped in front of the counter to stare at the ruined chicken, she hugged him from behind.

  He waited for her to say she was sorry for the fucked up life he must have had with an uncaring, greedy father. He waited for her to say that surely he was mistaken—that growing up in a rich home had to have its perks. He waited for her to beg him to introduce her to the man she had pinned her hopes on. To sweep her into that lifestyle.

  She said none of those things.

  Instead she continued hugging him, slipping her hands beneath his T-shirt and drawing swirls over his abs. To his relief, she avoided touching his scars. He didn’t know if that was out of disgust or respect. Either way, he appreciated the effort.