Wilder (The Wild Ones Book 3)

by C. M. Owens

  I pause, looking up as my brow furrows.

  “We almost went to the beach for an actual vacation that one time,” I lamely tell her in a sad attempt to make us sound less pathetic.

  “We’ve almost taken a lot of fun trips, but haven’t. So stop trying to make this an ‘almost’ moment and have fun with me tonight. Our website isn’t far from launching, and after that, all our trips will be just as business related as they’ve always been.”

  “At least they’ll be our business trips instead of sucking-up business trips Dad sends us on,” I counter, pointing out the silver lining.

  Unable to come up with a single time my sister and I have taken a trip that was specifically for fun, I put the magazine down and put aside my no-late-dates rule, since they’re ten minutes late now.

  Maybe I won’t almost die a fifth time. If I’m lucky.

  “If we don’t get stood up,” she adds with a small frown, which means she’s actually disappointed, because she won’t smile or frown unless it’s a big emotion, due to the fact she wants to put off wrinkles for as long as possible to avoid needles.

  Rancorous laughter draws both our attention to the door, and her smile forms. Two expressions back to back. She’s really excited.

  “Be prepared for the best date of your life, pretty girl,” some guy calls through the door before knocking.

  Reese actually giggles. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard her giggle before. She clears her throat immediately, and I battle my smile when I see her roll her eyes at herself in the mirror while checking her makeup one last time.

  Plastering on my own smile, I watch as she jogs to the door, swings it open, and then…releases a bloodcurdling, hair-raising scream…and I freeze. Again. It’s my go-to reaction when absolutely nothing at all makes sense and terror is sweeping in.

  A dead deer is on the front porch, eyes wide and vacant while its little tongue barely hangs out its mouth. And there’s blood. I can’t stand blood.

  I stare in horror at the poor, stiff deer that simply makes no sense at all. Reese continues to scream and scream…and scream.

  I gape.

  Poor Bambi. What monsters would do this? Whose boots are sticking up over the jeans behind that poor deer? I can’t look away from the deer long enough to find out.

  “Why the hell are you screaming?” some guy asks incredulously as he steps over the deer and right into our house.

  My frozen state thaws immediately, and I fly off the couch and rush to the kitchen to grab a knife, only to run back out with a large wooden spoon. How the actual hell did that happen?

  I freeze again when I briefly see the deer, and then jerk my gaze around, searching for the murderous lunatic who has been released into our cabin after killing Bambi.

  I finally spot the mystery freak in the living room as he lightly shakes my sister’s shoulders. She continues to scream, her attention remaining fixed to the pitiful deer with so many pretty horns.

  “Told you that was a shit idea,” a confusingly familiar voice calls from outside. “Girls like that are always screamers. I’m staying out here until they cut that shit out.”

  “Only mine is screaming,” the other guy says, causing me to reassess this situation.

  The deer murderers are our dates? Oh my damn. We’re actually going to die. I knew this was a terrible idea.

  Reese’s screams finally taper off, and she whirls away from the deer, gagging.

  “Got a chucker!” the guy with her says as he rushes her toward the sink.

  “Why the hell is there a dead deer on our porch?” I shout at the sociopath, who is weirdly pulling my sister’s hair back as she leans over the sink and fights the urge to vomit.

  I’m torn about whether or not it’s sweet, since he’s the reason she’s turning the green color and struggling not to lose the war with her stomach.

  “Because we were going to cook you fresh tenderloin for our date and fill your freezer for the rest of your stay,” the guy, who must be Hale, says like it’s obvious, as he soothingly rubs circles on Reese’s back. “That’s why we’re late. It took longer than usual to bag a good one. We didn’t have time to field-dress it, so we just bled it out on the way here by—”

  “Please stop talking,” Reese says on a wet gag.

  Hale swallows the rest of his words.

  “You kill Bambi on the regular?” I ask on a rasp, trembling whisper.

  I almost died to save a baby deer, and these guys just slaughtered a big one for our date-night? How is this happening? Did I miss the abrupt turn we took somehow?

  “Is she puking or not? I’m not coming in to see that,” the other guy says from somewhere outside as my sister continues to dry heave over the sink.

  I guess that’s Hale’s brother—Killian Vincent.

  I’m positive it’s historically accurate to state that this is the worst way any date has ever started. I never thought I’d be in a situation where I’m clutching a wooden spoon like a weapon and preparing to throw down with Bambi murderers.

  “She’s not puking, so go ahead and start skinning the deer—”

  The deer starts moving, and I shriek a little. Just a little. The high-pitched sound may split a glass or two, but it’s still little.

  “They’re going to scream, so shut the door so I can move the damn thing,” Killian says from outside.

  “What kind of date consists of killing and skinning a deer?” I ask while cringing, and gagging, as Hale rushes over and shuts the door.

  I barely take in the fact he’s tall, fit, and has a trimmed beard, because he moves away from the door I’m still staring at.

  “We wanted to do the date right,” Hale says a little defensively, and I glance over to see him back at my sister’s side, rubbing a hand over her back as she splashes cool water on her face.

  Most of her hard work is washed away from her face with the action. She quickly pours a glass of water, takes a sip, and spits the second sip out. I worry there’s something wrong with the water she’s drinking, based on my limited interactions with the crazy people in this town over the past two days.

  Weirdly, the Hale guy seems genuinely worried, and I think his cheeks are flushed with embarrassment.

  “Just curious, how often do you date?” I ask, not hearing how terrible it sounds until it’s out of my mouth.

  See? I’m a recovering douche. It’s not a simple process.

  He bristles, and his cheeks get a bit redder as he ignores the question. Instead, he loudly yells, “How’s the deer coming?”

  “Can’t skin the motherfucker in five minutes after dragging it in all that snow, you dick. Give me a second,” Killian calls back.

  Now that the initial shock has worn off, I almost feel bad for them, even though they’ve effectively traumatized us both tonight. They were weirdly trying to be sweet, I think.

  I’m not entirely sure I know what’s going on at this point. It’s like trying to connect the dots on a body full of chicken pox.

  “I’ve never seen a dead animal before,” Reese groans as she shuts off the water and just leans over the sink, her breaths calming.

  “It’ll taste better than it looks,” Hale tells her very seriously, like he’s trying to recover from this disaster and put a good spin on it.

  I sit down, deciding that as long as I don’t see anything going on, I might as well be entertained. And drunk. I’m going to need to be really damn drunk for this night.

  “So I take it we’re staying in tonight?” I ask as I pull out the bottle of vodka from under the couch, which was apparently my Gran’s hiding spot for it.

  I’m more of a wine girl. I don’t know how I feel about drinking vodka. Gran was apparently a hard liquor woman.

  “Well, it’s winter in Tomahawk. Everything closes when the sun goes down, so we don’t really have much else to do. Especially if just seeing a dead animal freaks you two out that much.” Hale stares at me expectantly, as though I’m the idiot in the room for not knowing that.
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  “There are worse sights outside?” I ask, my hands shaking a little as I unscrew the lid from the bottle.

  “Not really. But you’re supposed to eat on dates. Lilah said so,” he states flatly, only confusing me more.

  “Who’s Lilah?” I ask as Reese finally dries off her face and blows a heavy breath into the towel, keeping it over her face for longer than necessary.

  “My sister,” Hale answers while rifling through the cabinets, truly intent on cooking the deer, which is apparent when he pulls out a few pans that may or may not be two or three decades old. “I’m one-third of a triplet set, and I’m the oldest,” he adds like it’s important information.

  Why the hell didn’t Gran’s letter mention how freaking crazy these people—

  My thoughts pause as I glance over to Gran’s bookshelf.

  “You said your last name was Vincent? Any chance you have a flag with a tiger on it in your front yard?” I ask curiously.

  Reese’s eyes snap over to meet mine immediately.

  “That was not Vincent,” she says, eyes darting to the bookshelf and back to me. “That was Vancouer or something.”

  “I don’t have a tiger flag,” he answers with a careless shrug, as though that question needs no explanation. “Tigers are lame and overused.”

  The door swings open, and my eyes dart to it before widening, as a lump forms in my throat, causing me to forget what we’re even discussing.

  The man standing in the doorway is very tall, has short, dark hair that is possibly too short to pull. His beard is neatly trimmed and barely there, and it looks way better on him than I’ve ever seen a beard look. I had no idea beards could actually be so sexy, and I wonder how much I’ve missed out on.

  However…he’s slightly terrifying with a few smears of blood on his face and hands, especially since he’s holding a very large, slightly bloody knife.

  Normally, this is the part where I’d faint and stuff, but this guy is all too familiar.

  In fact, this guy has seen me naked.

  I have this guy’s shirt in the dryer.

  The shirt he’s wearing now is hugging him just right—not too tight, but tight enough to hint at the hard body under it. Along with the jeans that make me want to see his ass in them…

  I’ve wrapped my bare body all over his without realizing just how nice his body is.

  And he’s grinning at me like he can see every single inappropriate thought in my head right now. Did I drink the vodka and forget I drank the vodka?

  Nope. I didn’t drink it yet. I’m just going insane. There really is something in the water. We’ve showered in radioactivity.

  “You look prettier when you’re warm, Popsicle,” he says with a lazy grin, letting his eyes deliberately rake over me the way mine just did him.

  I’m definitely freaking warm. I’m not sure if I’m embarrassed, terrified, or simply confused by all the weird reactions he provokes at once with that very memorable, deep, smooth voice I should have immediately placed.

  “I’m not sure if you’re complimenting me or not,” I tell him, recovering and clearing my throat, deciding to play this weird date by ear. “But it’s nice to formally meet you, Killian. And thanks for saving my life and stuff.”

  Damn, there’s just no way to make this not weird at this point.

  He walks across the room, sticking out his blood-tinged hand to shake mine. Swallowing back my bile and making a conscious effort not to be a spoiled brat, I reach out and shake it.

  His hand is cold, which makes sense, since it’s ridiculously cold outside, and they keep leaving our door open, which makes it cold inside too.

  Forgetting all about my reservations, my mind bounces everywhere as I just stare stupidly into his really dark eyes, wondering something ridiculous and inconsequential, like if they’re considered dark chocolate or not.

  “I’m Kai Wilder. Killian doesn’t date,” he says like he’s correcting me and letting me know why he’s here all at once.

  The brain freeze seems to thaw more and more, because now I remember his name being Kai.

  I blink and pull my hand back, grimacing when I see blood smeared on it. It’d probably seem rude if I ran to the sink to wash my hands the way I desperately want to in this moment.

  “I’m Piper Kline,” I say uneasily.

  “Dude, wash your hands before shaking hers,” Hale says like he suddenly has some form of etiquette.

  My spine relaxes when I realize I get to wash my hands, since Kai is muttering something to the effect of an apology and stalking to the sink like a good barbarian.

  Reese still has the towel pressed over her mouth, and I can’t tell if she’s holding in silent laughter or silent sobs. Her eyes have always been impossible to read, but I sort of think she’s laughing. Because she’s evil like that.

  She knows how much I hate blood. It’s why I found it hilarious that my parents were surprised I refused to go into medicine like their plan dictated I do.

  I hurriedly move to the sink when Kai is finally finished.

  “Man...everyone knows you’re supposed to let the chicks go first,” Hale says on an exasperated breath. “She’ll think you go first in the bedroom too, otherwise,” he adds, causing me to choke on air.

  I know I hear Reese muffle a snort in that towel of hers she’s cleverly using to hide her face. I’ve spent a great number of years schooling my features so as to never give someone an accidental expression, but tonight I’m failing at a task that is usually fairly simple.

  I also know my cheeks are on fire, because the guy isn’t even saying this shit to be rude or crass. He’s damn serious and trying to sound helpful.

  My current emotions are a mixed bag: I find it all adorably crude, but also embarrassingly awkward.

  “I have some potatoes to go with that deer,” I finally manage to say with a straight face, just as Kai exits.

  I don’t want to think about what he’s doing.

  “We’ve got sides too. We stopped at the store on the way. Guys are supposed to pay for the date,” Hale informs me with a bit of sternness.

  I’m not sure what the protocol is for these sorts of situations, because this is a complete first for me.

  “Do the men also do the cooking on the fresh-kill dates?” I ask hopefully.

  He gives a firm nod of his head, and I can instantly tell Reese is grinning under that damn towel because her eyes crinkle at the corners ever so slightly. I’m just relieved I at least don’t have to cook Bambi. I can pretend to eat it later and spit it back out into my napkin.

  I may go vegan after this trip.

  “You have to know how to cook deer before you can ever cook it right,” Kai informs us from the front porch, as though he’s making an effort to be involved in date-night conversation.

  What’d I do with that vodka? I have no choice but to risk hard liquor.

  Hale puts all the pans he needs on the counter, and then he joins Kai outside, as I search for the missing bottle of vodka. As soon as the door shuts behind him, I whirl around and give my sister my widest eyes possible and throw my hands up in a what-the-fuck motion.

  She snorts into the towel, her body definitely shaking with silent laughter, as she slides down to the ground in front of the ancient fridge.

  I’m wearing my warmest, tightest thermal leggings under some other really adorable leggings that no self-respecting Kline would ever wear in public. I’ve had them for years as a small act of rebellion, and I finally wear them on a night when—

  A very distinct, familiar scent wafts into the cabin when the door blows open, and I give my sister a horrified look as she shuts it back. Her eyes are just as wide, but I swear she’s trying once again to not laugh.

  “Are they seriously smoking marijuana out there?” I whisper-yell.

  She shrugs a shoulder and wipes the smile off her face. “I think it’s legal here.”

  “But who smokes pot on a first date while skinning a deer?”

  She quickl
y shuffles to the side when the door reopens, and Kai walks in, winks at me, and sucks on the blunt—I think it’s called a blunt anyway—that is hanging out of his mouth.

  The stench of marijuana immediately fills the cabin as he walks over to the sink to wash his hands again, puffing more of the blunt without ever touching it with his bloody hands.

  I don’t even know how to react, and schooling my features is seriously a lost cause for the night. I do make a conscious effort not to focus too much on the blood and give the blunt all my attention.

  Even my sister, who is a master of deceiving the eye by never revealing what’s going on in her head, is struggling to keep a straight face. She can pretend to be fascinated by it all, but she’s just as scared as I am on the inside.

  I confess, I knew we were sheltered but not to what extreme until tonight.

  It takes me a moment to summon up the courage to ask the question I want to know most.

  “Are you smoking weed?” I ask Kai to his back, trying to keep all the judgment out of my tone.

  He starts drying his hands as he glances over his shoulder, grinning around the blunt. It really shouldn’t be a sexy expression, given the obvious.

  I blame the fact I feel some deep sort of gratitude toward him that I find him even remotely charming in this moment. Those stupid little flutters in my stomach are a direct result of his selfless heroics and nothing else.

  “Sorry,” he says as he pulls it from his mouth and wipes off the end. “Was I supposed to let you hit it first?”

  Reese has to smother a sound, and then she quickly clears her throat, before starting to head outside. She likely remembers what they’re doing to Bambi and immediately turns back around, forced to endure this very awkward moment with me.

  “Remember our new life goal,” she manages to say without laughing at me.

  I stare blankly at the offering, and Kai holds it patiently.

  “What’s that new life goal again?” I ask, not recalling anything about peer pressure being in the mix.

  “Stop almost having fun.”

  “Almost having fun?” Kai asks, sounding like he’s the one confused by us.

  “I feel like I’ve been transported into another time or universe,” I say on a reluctant breath as I take the blunt from his hand. “But when in Rome…”