Page 1 of Drive Me Wild (Owl Creek #2)

“ W ell,” I say to the contents of my car, “here goes everything.”

I pop in the first CD of my Moving Out Soundtrack and turn up the volume. It’s The National, and every single one of their songs makes me want to cry. Perfect mood for the moment.

The evergreen forest gets denser the further away I drive from Downsville, where I grew up.

The only place I’ve ever known intimately.

The only place where I can close my eyes when I’m riding shotgun and know where I am from the feel of the curves and dips in the road or the way the shadows play across my face.

It’s where I learned to love the smell of salt water, and cedar leaves, and chimney smoke that never goes away, no matter the season.

The only place where I don’t have to explain anything to anyone because they already know.

The introverted half of me feels safe and comfy in all this sameness.

I sing at the top of my lungs with the windows rolled up because it’s still early morning, and there’s a chill in the late summer air. And every song keeps me grounded in the sadness of what I’m doing and the reality of my situation.

Driving over the low mountains to Owl Creek and the road leading to my best friend Renée’s new place with her boyfriend, Cole, takes a few hours.

Renée met Cole in late spring when her car broke down outside of Owl Creek, and he rescued her—sort of. She’s not exactly the rescuing type. I didn’t grow up with a dad, but with her father and brothers, Renée had testosterone around her in spades, and she had to learn to be tough or get trampled.

My tires crunch on the gravel as I pull down the wooded drive. There are a few cars in the parking area outside the garage where Renée’s music recording studio is, below the apartment where I hope to stay until I figure things out.

Before I can put my old yellow Volvo in park, I see Renée bounding toward me. I jump out of the car, and she yanks me into a hug. I think I’m going to melt in her arms.

I need this. I need the warmth of my friend as the tears start to fall.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s my mom’s new boyfriend.”

“Did he do something to you? I’ll kill him.”

“No, but let’s just say it’s gotten real crowded at home, real quick.”

“You’ve been talking about moving out for a couple of years. Maybe it’s time?”

“That’s what I was thinking, too.” I look to the back of my car, and her eyes follow. It’s filled with my most treasured things. “Can I rent the room above the garage for a while?”

“As long as you don’t mind listening to the best rock-and-roll band in Owl Creek practice downstairs.”

“Should we run it by Cole?”

She looks over and watches him for a moment with a dreamy look in her eyes. I feel a stab of envy. I want that. I want what she has, and I know my mom has with her new boyfriend.

It’s funny— when you’re sixteen or seventeen, all people dream about is graduating and moving away from home to start their lives.

But I wasn’t like that. I loved home. It was my mom and me, and we were a team.

And even though I knew it wouldn’t stay this way forever, over the years, I believed I’d be the one to get married and break up the team.

That’s why I couldn’t be too upset that this was all happening. I couldn’t fault my mom or her boyfriend for how quickly they created a life together. I know she is happy, and it was time for me to give her the space to do that.

“Nah. We’re two people moving in the same direction. He’ll be okay with it.”

“Should we at least tell him before hauling stuff upstairs?”

She laughs and pulls me back into a hug that my body relishes.

“Later. I’m so glad you’re here Zoe. Do you need some alone time real quick?”

I shake my head, not quite ready to talk about what it means to be on my own for the first time and how I wish I was moving in with the future love of my life. Not that I don’t want to be here. It’s the only other place I’d want to be right now.

“Then come and meet my band!”

Renée grabs my hand and leads me toward the grill, where Cole’s parents are lingering nearby, chatting with someone.

She introduces me to a guy named Trevor. He’s the bass player and de facto leader of the band. He’s been around the longest when there was a singer before Renée who got herself into some major trouble starting fires. I heard she’s getting help in a program near San Diego.

Trevor is tall and fit, with the messy hair you expect in a musician. I think he’s sort of cute until I look down and see the ring on his finger.

The cuteness instantly turns to cardboard.

A bright-eyed woman our age steps out of the house with a platter of cut veggies and a wide grin. She puts the food on the adjacent picnic table, wipes her hands on her cutoffs, and reaches out to shake mine.

“Hi!”

“Zoe, this is Avery. She’s the drummer.”

“Wildfire,” Cole calls Renée over his shoulder. “Can you grab the platter of ribs from the fridge?”

“Duty calls. Make yourself at home, and we’ll see to your stuff later. There are more people coming, so we’ll have tons of help.”

Renée disappears into the house, and I turn to Avery, who’s reaching in a cooler at my feet.

“So Zoe, do you also play music?” She hands me a beer, and we sit in chairs around a nearby fire pit.

“No, I leave that up to my bestie. I hear you’re doing great on the drums.”

Her cheeks flush, and she bites her lip before leaning toward me conspiratorially. “I’m practicing every chance I get. I had blisters on my hands for weeks when I found out they were looking for a drummer.”

I look at Renée as she puts on an apron and helps Cole with the grill. He leans over and nuzzles her neck for a moment, and her eyes close in pleasure as she soaks in the affection.

I’ve never seen her this happy, but I feel a stab in my chest again.

Even though she’s had more experience in the dating department than me, I thought I’d settle down first. When we were teenagers, she always talked about her dream of being a touring musician.

I talked about the one thing I wanted— to build a life with a man who supports me running a successful business— while we raise a pack of wild, wonderful kids.

But here she is, living in this rustic lakeside cabin with a smoking hot fireman for a boyfriend and fronting a rock-and-roll band, and I have a car full of my stuff, no boyfriend, and a business that is falling apart.

Not exactly living the dream.

“How long are you in Owl Creek, Zoe?”

The question pulls me out of my reverie.

“I don’t— I don’t really know. I brought all my stuff, so I guess I’ll be here until I figure out what I’m doing.”

“Wow. That’s brave.”

I laugh at the thought. I’ve never considered myself brave. I am hard-working. I am consistent. I am dependable. But brave? I don’t feel like it’s a good fit.

“I needed to leave. It was time. I’m twenty-three years old and still live—I mean, lived with my mom. Which reminds me. I need to text her real quick to let her know I got here.”

I pull my phone out of my bag, send her a quick message, and then return my attention to Avery.

“I moved out a year ago. It takes some getting used to. I know a lot of people our age leave as soon as they can, but I didn’t want to leave my parent’s place. It’s just across the lake.”

Avery points to a house across the water and continues, “I’m close to my parents.” She shrugs in a way that says, “What are you gonna do?”.

I already feel comfortable with Avery. Unlike my best friend, Renée, I grew up with a solid connection to my mom.

Renée’s mom died when she was young, and she didn’t have an easy time with her father and brothers.

It’s always been a sticking point in our relationship because I didn’t feel like I could talk about my mom when she had such family pain.

“Me too. With my mom. But—”

A sleek vintage black truck creeps down the driveway, and I can’t help but stare. I’ve never been into trucks, but this one is…sexy.

It’s polished to a high shine, and the chrome on the bumpers and side panels is like a mirror. I can’t see who’s behind the wheel, but my mind is already forming an image of some type of James Dean character.

The engine rumbles as it pulls up next to my old station wagon, and the sound wakes something up in me— which is unsettling.

I drive a Volvo. Safe. Dependable. Not fast and shiny and…

“Oh.”

I gulp as he slides out the door. Avery is still next to me, and we sit silently, watching his hulking frame stride across the drive toward the picnic table where the food is laid out. His eyes slice to mine, and I catch the hint of a smile. Or a smirk. I’m not sure which one.

“That’s Caleb.” Avery is looking at him, too.

“We’ve met. He’s Cole’s younger brother, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I never knew they made them that good-looking until I saw him.”

She turns to me with concern on her face. “He’s a player. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“So I’ve heard. But small towns always make perfect cauldrons for rumors. Are you sure it’s true?”

The night Caleb and I met last spring, I had just arrived in Owl Creek to visit Renée.

He caught me in the hallway of a local bar while Renée was in the toilet.

He had me against the wall with his arms over my head, only inches away.

I’m sure it’s a classic player move, but I felt a pooling of warmth in my gut that my neglected lady parts still haven’t forgotten.

That part of my body hopes the rumors aren’t true.

“Oh, I’m sure of it. I work at a restaurant across from his auto shop. I’ve seen him pick up a female tourist in the amount of time it takes to get a cup of coffee to go.”

“Okay, that’s actually impressive.”

“Zoe, you don’t know me, but trust me on this. He’s good for a hookup but nothing more.”

Avery’s concern is apparent in her soft eyes, and she’s right.

I don’t want to get involved with a guy like Caleb, if only because he’d laugh me out of the bedroom.

And even though she and I just met, I can’t wait to hang out with her more.

She seems like a caring person and I need that in my life.

I need people I can count on while launching into the world.

A sliver of the ache I felt in leaving home dissipates as I think about being here.

I have Renée. I have a place to stay. And even though I’m not as brave as Avery thinks I am, I know how to get things done.

I can make this move and solving my business crisis into projects like any other.

Because I’m good at projects. It’s what I do.

I figure out everything that needs to be built, designed, or created for a particular result, then execute. Simple. Clean.

And when I’m ready, I can finally focus on what I have always wanted.

If I can fix my ‘problem’ first.

As I feel a hint of confidence blooming in my chest, Caleb pops a cherry tomato in his mouth and heads our way.