Wilder (The Wild Ones Book 3)

by C. M. Owens

  Even Mathew knows it, because he’s grinning like a bastard as he seats her at the fancy table—the one without any gum stuck to the bottom of it or any rips on the vinyl seats. Hell, the table doesn’t even have dirty words or insight carved into it. Mostly because we’re not allowed to sit there.

  The fancy table is only for fancy people.

  “I wore a tuxedo in here once. He still wouldn’t let me sit at that table,” Shade states idly.

  “We’ll go to Shadow’s Peak later,” Killian Vincent answers, not staring at the fancy chick with the fancy purse or fancy cardigan.

  “Speak for yourself. I have a date tonight,” Hale says as he leaps up and struts toward the fancy table.

  Mathew narrows his eyes at him, but Hale doesn’t even notice.

  We all turn to watch the show, because it shouldn’t last longer than a few seconds.

  “When he gets shot down and flames out, I’ll take her out. You dicks can play with yourselves at Shadow’s Peak without me,” Hunter, my other brother, drawls as he leans up on the table, eyes over at the fancy table.

  I redirect my attention to the only other guy in the entire restaurant who isn’t checking out the redhead, as she likely wrinkles her nose in disgust at Hale.

  Fancy girls and Tomahawk don’t mix.

  “I bought a new rifle I want to try out too,” I go on, talking to Killian, annoyed with how stupid these guys are to think a girl like that is actually going to—

  Everyone, including myself, turns and looks at the fancy table again when we hear laughter.

  I think my eyebrows hurt from being so far up on my head when I see the redhead actually grinning at Hale like she’s interested, her entire body leaning toward his as he…I’m not sure what he’s saying.

  But it’s Hale; he never says anything that makes women laugh.

  Shaking away from what has to be a sick joke, I call out my order to Mathew, just as the door chimes again.

  “Too many Wild Ones!” I hear Mathew snap.

  “No. You can’t grow your beard out that long again. I like it the way it is,” I can hear Lilah Vincent saying.

  Hell, I could probably hear her from my cabin when she talks that loud.

  “This is the first winter I’ve faced in a long damn time without it, and my face misses my long beard,” Benson tells her as he tries to sit at a different table.

  Lilah pulls two chairs up to our table and we all fucking shuffle around as Benson sighs and comes to join us against his will.

  Mathew looks like he’s going to have a brain aneurism. It’s not like he owns the place, and we always fix what we break, so I have no idea what his problem is.

  “You can’t sit there,” Mathew shouts…at the fancy table. Not us.

  “Ah, come on. We’re trying to get to know each other better,” I hear Hale groan.

  “If Hale gets to sit at the fancy table, I’m going to start coming here daily until I get to sit there,” Lilah is quick to say, and then shakes her head and looks back to Benson, as he grudgingly takes a seat at our table at last.

  I just want my damn burger and away from this—

  “I’m growing my beard back,” Benson says seriously. “It kept my face and neck a hell of a lot warmer.”

  “You have enough beard!” Lilah argues.

  “Not even married a year and having marital problems,” Hunter says with a tsking tone.

  “Where’s my damn bur—”

  Mathew drops my plate in front of me, and a fry spills off when it clangs. Killian snatches his plate from Mathew’s hand before he can drop it.

  “So help me, Hale Vincent, if you move one step closer to that table, I will have Vick remove you!” Mathew shouts as he stalks that way.

  I barely notice Vick sighing heavily in the corner as he shakes out his paper and continues reading like he’s trying to ignore everyone in here.

  He’s a man full of sighs and exasperated breaths.

  “Can’t you see I’m working game over here?” Hale argues.

  “Game,” I snort before I start eating.

  I’m almost finished by the time Hale sits down beside us, and I grin to myself as I take the last bite of my burger.

  “How’d your game work out?” Hunter asks on a scoff.

  I glance back just in time to see the redhead exiting with a to-go bag in tow.

  “Actually, it was damn good. She couldn’t reach her sister to find out about tonight. But I got a date for tomorrow for me and my brother,” Hale says while lifting his glass and flipping us all off.

  It grows eerily silent in the diner. Even Vick puts down the paper and stares over incredulously. I arch an eyebrow, examining Hale for deceit. He looks damn serious and damn honest.

  “Bullshit,” Vick and Mathew both say in horrified unison.

  “Yep,” Hale says as he lifts his own burger and takes a bite. “She found me charming,” he says around the mouthful.

  “Now I know he’s full of shit,” Vick says dismissively before returning his attention to the paper.

  I’m not sure what the hell goes into the Tomahawk Gazette. It’s…Tomahawk. Not much happens around here that can be reported. Certainly not enough to write a newspaper about.

  The ground rattles and everyone lifts the breakable stuff, since there’s a sign in the window reminding us to do it.

  As soon as rattling stops, Vick heaves out a breath and glances at our table. “Where’s Nila?” he asks me.

  “With a popsicle,” I answer, causing his brow to furrow.

  “Human popsicle,” Hunter elaborates.

  “Why do I bother?” Vick groans as he drains the last of his coffee and stands.

  “She’s not blowing up anything close by. If she was close, she’d be bitching at us for leaving her behind with the popsicle,” I assure him.

  “True,” Killian says around his own mouthful.

  “Has to be the Nickels. I told them to stop doing that shit so close to town,” Vick growls with his hands on his hips.

  “Could be the Malones,” Mathew gripes. “Kylie keeps trying to make her fella wilder than he’s already gotten.”

  “So how’d you get a fucking date with a fancy girl?” I ask Hale, getting back on topic as everything rattles again, this time harder.

  “Son of a bitch,” Vick snaps as he stalks out.

  “This is why we all hate winter!” Mathew gripes, just as a much heavier rattle shakes some of the pictures off the wall. “Take them with you before they tear something up!”

  “We’re being perfectly well behaved,” Lilah very reasonably points out.

  Then she turns her attention to Benson, while Hale grins like a dick and ignores me.

  Fucker.

  “And you’re not growing that long beard back, or I’m going to stop primping my vagina like a shiny glass doll,” Lilah adds stoically to Benson.

  Hale and Killian both choke on their food, gag, and then guzzle their drinks…in eerily perfect unison.

  This, of course, makes me so happy. Especially when Killian shoves his food away and starts cursing.

  “You’re bluffing,” Benson says to her as he narrows his eyes.

  “For fuck’s sake, don’t talk about this at the dinner table!” Hale snaps.

  “I’m not bluffing. If you grow that beard back, you’ll need directional signs down there, because I’ll let it all go to hell,” she promises him.

  “I’m going to kill someone if the subject doesn’t change from my sister’s vagina. Now,” Killian says seriously, holding out a butter knife like it’s his weapon of choice.

  “How’d you get that date?” I ask Hale again, lips twitching when he’s happy to answer this time.

  “Just asked her out. She and her sister are in town while they figure out what to do with their late grandmother’s old cabin, so Killian has a date tomorrow too.”

  “No, I don’t,” Killian is fast to answer as he stands.

  “Yes, you do,” Hale calls to his back as Kill
ian abruptly leaves, which isn’t uncommon.

  “No, I don’t,” he says without hesitation on his way out.

  “You hit on a girl who just lost her grandmother?” Lilah asks as she shakes her head. “She’s vulnerable. That’s how you got the date.”

  “I’ll take a date for tomorrow,” Hunter immediately tells Hale with a serious face. “The sister should be vulnerable too.”

  “Such dicks,” Lilah says with a wrinkled nose.

  It’s not a coincidence the popsicle is staying at a cabin an older woman used to own on the same day a fancy chick intentionally comes Tomahawk. I bet that popsicle is normally sort of fancy when she’s not dying.

  Tomahawk is too small to have two new girls here on the same day unless they’re sisters.

  “Actually, I’m going,” I say to Hale.

  “Too late,” Hunter argues, eyes turning to slits as he faces me. “I called dibs.”

  “Actually, I called dibs,” Shade adds, holding up one finger. “In my head.”

  “Guess there’s only one way to settle this battle of the dicks,” Lilah chimes in, grinning like the fucking devil she is.

  “Not in here!” Mathew harps, and then runs to the door. “Vick! Come back! You’re supposed to stay until they’re all gone!”

  “Vick already left. Should someone tell him that?” Benson asks on a sigh similar to the sigh Vick uses a lot.

  “You up for it, little brother?” I ask Hunter, lips twitching when he fights to keep a badass expression, even though I always win our challenges.

  “This is the first time I’ll win.”

  “Not in here!” Mathew shouts again.

  “How the hell are they going to slide across the ice on their stomachs in here?” Lilah asks, and Hunter groans.

  I also stifle a groan. Shit. I hate ice burn.

  Mathew sags to a chair like he’s relieved, and we all stand to head out to the ice.

  “To the ice!” Lilah shouts as she jumps up onto the top of the table and fist pumps the air.

  Her eyes widen when something cracks, and suddenly the table collapses on one side. I narrowly dodge a plate that flies up, and three plates crash through the window beside us, as Lilah collapses to the ground, getting covered by uneaten food.

  “Noooo!” Mathew groans as we all kick back our chairs to escape the raining food.

  Benson groans while pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why am I not surprised?” he mutters under his breath.

  “That was totally unexpected. I swear. I haven’t gained that much married weight,” Lilah states from the ground, knocking food off her as she tries to get to her feet.

  She slips three times before succeeding, and starts wiping ketchup off her stomach when she finally gets to her feet and realizes her shirt is pushed up.

  “You are looking a little chubbier than usual,” Hale deadpans.

  I leave them behind when Lilah starts chasing her idiot brother around the rest of the tables. Mathew starts spraying them with the sink hose and shouting for them to get out.

  I have a challenge to win and a popsicle to revisit. It’d probably be creepy to say it’s because I know what she looks like naked. I’ll think of a better reason before my date.

  Wild Ones Tip #481

  We’re like a Jack-in-the-Box. Don’t wind us up if you don’t want us to pop out and surprise you.

  Chapter 3

  PIPER

  *******

  “Are the roads still icy? How can we trust strangers to drive us around on that? I almost died coming up that damn hill yesterday,” I say to the only person I know who actually finds herself a ‘sexy mountain man’ in the mountains.

  Unbelievable.

  “The snow has covered up most of the ice now. Last night was sketchy getting back, but today seems a little better. Definitely glad we spend the holidays in the mountains now,” Reese says as she finishes contouring her cheeks, moving on to her mascara now.

  “Not these mountains. And do you know how dangerous it is to be in a strange place and invite strange men—we know nothing about—out to our secluded cabin in the woods?” I go on, slightly berating her a little because she’s being insane, unreasonable, and inconveniently impulsive.

  “A man innocently spooned your frozen body to help save your life, and then left his sister to see after you instead of sticking around to say you owed him something,” she points out. “And I checked the crime rate of this town. It’s laughable. There’s a raccoon on a freaking “Wanted” poster. He’s apparently quite the silver thief.”

  She’s a master of keeping a straight face, so I have no idea if she’s full of shit or serious. She has to be full of shit.

  I go with argument number two when I can’t decide.

  “I fell through ice, was saved by people who may or may not have been debating horrifying things that included my womb, shamelessly snuggled a complete stranger while I was naked just to steal his heat, and woke up to a girl hovering over me and asking me if I was a screamer or not. Then that girl disappeared when I couldn’t form words, because I’m not a screamer—I’m a freezer,” I tell Reese as she finishes up her makeup. “She literally disappeared. Like out the door and vanished by the time I raced out to ask her their names.”

  “And?” she asks like it’s no big deal while lining her lips.

  “And? And?” I ask incredulously as I sip my hot cocoa, still shivering and not fully rewarmed from the detoured dunk in the lake.

  When she just stares in the mirror at me like she needs more than a rhetorical parroting, I shake my head.

  “I almost died yesterday, and you really think I want to go back outside after that? On a date with some stranger from this town after what I witnessed yesterday?” I go on.

  “You’re being entirely too judgmental. Sounding a little bit like Mom,” she fires off, using the Mom card just to make me do what she wants.

  “I sound nothing like Mom. I told you about the breeding argument, right?”

  “So one lady was crazy and the girl didn’t want you to scream. They saved your life, delivered you safely home without anything in your womb, and then looked after you until you woke up. They might have been odd, but they were genuinely nice, it seems. So, yes, you sound exactly like Mom.”

  I groan when she starts making me second guess myself. “They should have sent you to law school instead of letting you get a generic business degree,” I point out.

  “My degree is not generic,” she states dryly. “Quit changing the subject. We’re only here for a few weeks. And these people are carrying around flip phones attached to their belts. For once, I’m not worried about seeing our faces splashed all over social media by whatever twat-chasers are coming to use our brand to spike their following. It’s a little liberating.”

  “Now you’re the one distracting me by saying something about flip-phones. Do they still make them?” I ask idly, glancing out the window to see if these supposed dates have miraculously found this hard-to-find cabin.

  Hopefully, they won’t find it, and we’ll be able to just sit by the fire and box up more of Gran’s old things.

  “This town must be keeping the business alive,” she says as I glance at the time. “I planned on Googling him and checking his social media to prep for our date, but I don’t think the internet knows he exists.”

  “Everyone can be Googled,” I answer absently.

  “Feel free to try. And I know Hale Vincent is his real name, because the angry diner man kept shouting it and threatening him to stay away from the ‘fancy booth.’ I’m still wracking my brain as to why it’s called that.”

  I can’t even with her right now. It’s like she’s not putting forth any real effort to make sense anymore.

  Five more minutes before they’re considered late, and then I can ditch this idea of a date, since I have a no-late-dates rule my sister knows all too well. It’s how I get out of ninety percent of my mother’s setups.

  “Hale is really sort of odd, but i
t’s cute how hard he was trying. Yet it wasn’t sleazy. It’s hard to find cute guys who also happen to look as fine as he does these days,” she goes on.

  “And his brother?”

  “They’re not identical, but the brother is totally hot too. I’m not sure if he’s sweet-cute, though. Hopefully, he is. Fun for the trip, at least. I thought this place was going to be loaded with old people only.”

  She’s always confusing when describing people. And condescending as well, though she’s completely oblivious to how some things sound. She honestly has no idea when she’s being a douche.

  Then again, I have the exact same issue. It’s hard to deprogram one’s self even after becoming aware that you’ve been raised to be a total douche. Reese and I only recently were jarred into self-awareness, hence the reason we’re finally in our late Gran’s house, spending some time getting to know a woman our family decided wasn’t good enough.

  “We’ve never really taken a fun trip and met boys before,” Reese prattles on, drawing me out of my own head.

  “We’ve taken fun trips together and didn’t need boys,” I point out, flipping through a magazine.

  A hunting magazine…

  It’s the only magazine Reese could find in the entire town. Oddly enough, I really like one of these cute pink hunting knives. If I could get wifi or use my phone’s data, I would have already one-clicked it. Until now, I thought dead zones were a thing of the past and horror movies just used that ‘no service’ bit as a cliché plot device.

  “We’ve never taken a trip together that wasn’t business related or a family obligation,” she argues.

  “Vegas.”

  “That was a family obligation trip that turned into a business trip,” she quickly counters. “I spent the entire trip on the phone or at conventions. You spent the entire time in the spa—”

  “With Mr. Finebaud’s overly anti-feminist wife, who thinks women have to act and be a certain way or they’re a disgrace. Now I remember how disgraceful she said I was,” I say on a sigh, finally remembering the details of Vegas.

  “I still haven’t gambled a day in my life,” Reese adds.