Page 4 of Sweet Escape (Whispering Oaks Ranch #1)

I push through the crowd, dragging my luggage behind me.

As soon as I find a quiet place to sit, I sink onto a chair, curling in on myself as I attempt to shut out the noise and figure out what I’m going to do next.

This trip wasn’t exactly planned, so the diversion has well and truly fucked me.

Not exactly how I imagined getting fucked on my birthday, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.

“Hey. Are you okay?” Wilder’s soothing voice cuts through the brain fog.

“Are you stalking me?” I ask.

He chuckles. “No, but we’re in the same boat and we’re friends now. Friends don’t let friends have a mental breakdown in the middle of an airport.”

He has no idea how right he is. In the wake of everything that happened with Jake, I can’t for the life of me remember if I took my meds today. I normally have my anxiety and ADHD well in hand, but today has been one disaster after another, and I’m spiraling.

“Look, I’m going to get a room for the night and drive back to Nashville in the morning. Why don’t you keep me company? ”

“You seem like a good guy, Wilder, but I think it’s a bit soon to be sharing a room.”

“You didn’t seem opposed to being near me when you fell asleep on my shoulder.

” His brown eyes bore into mine. Heat blooms in my chest at the thought of sharing a bed with him, but I tamp it down as he continues to speak.

“But I only meant to bring you along for the road trip. You can get your own room. Unless, of course, you want to share.”

“Are you asking me to be your passenger princess?”

A deep chuckle reverberates through his chest. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

I waver, considering my options. Do I want to be trapped in a car with this gorgeous man for three hours while we, presumably, pretend we aren’t wildly attracted to each other?

Considering the alternative is waiting around all day tomorrow as my anxiety spirals out of control—yeah. I do. “Ok. I’m in. Let’s find a hotel.”

For the first time since landing, I pull out my phone and switch off airplane mode.

A barrage of text messages floods in, and I realize I forgot to block Amber’s number.

I rectify that situation before tapping over to the family group chat.

There’s a voice message waiting for me, and I don’t think twice before pressing play.

My entire family is singing an off-key rendition of Happy Birthday.

Wilder’s gaze immediately snaps to me. “It’s your birthday?”

“Yep. Lucky me,” I say with a small, humorless laugh.

“So, let me get this straight. Your limp dick ex-boyfriend fucked your best friend in your bed on your birthday, and you didn’t murder them both on the spot?”

“That about sums it up. Although, I am reconsidering my level headedness now that the rest of this day has gone to shit. Might’ve been easier to spend the night in jail.”

“Fucking hell, Liv. ”

I deflect, not wanting to delve further into the hellscape that is my current life. “Alright, well, let’s call some hotels and find somewhere to stay. With my luck, we’ll end up with bed bugs or something equally horrendous, so you might want to do the honors.”

After an awkward drive to the only hotel with vacancies within a hundred-mile radius, Wilder helps me drag my luggage inside, stopping at the back of a line that leads to the front desk.

There are three families ahead of us, and I’m instantly on edge.

If we don’t get a room, we’re screwed. I’m running low on funds, so I can’t exactly catch an Uber one town over, and sleeping in a busy airport is a no-go for me.

Wilder’s expression is pinched as he checks his watch for the third time, stroking a hand over his thick beard. When we left the airport, he put on a backward baseball cap, and my panties disintegrated. I’ve never experienced beard burn before, but I’m not opposed to the idea. Not opposed at all.

Lucky for me, the man in question is completely oblivious to my inner turmoil.

When the last family heads off to their room, Wilder motions for me to go ahead.

The man at the front desk barely spares me a second glance as he taps away at the computer.

When he finally acknowledges my presence, he asks, “Do you have a reservation?”

“Oh. Um, no. We called earlier. We were told to come down right away.”

“No problem. We have one room left. It’s a standard queen, and it has a lovely view of the riverfront.”

I open my mouth to speak, but Wilder slaps a credit card down on the desk. “We’ll take it. ”

“Wh—”

Before I can utter a single word of protest, he leans in dangerously close to my ear, the same way he did on the plane. “It might not be your lucky day, Cupcake, but it’s looking pretty damn good to me. Looks like we get to share, after all.”

His words elicit an involuntary shiver, settling deep in my bones. I’m pretty sure I could come just from listening to this man talk. It wouldn’t even have to be explicit—he could read the damn Declaration of Independence, and I’d fold like origami.

Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t had anything but self-induced manual orgasms in months. This man could take me up against the wall in front of the desk clerk, and I’d thank him after. I just know he’s the kind of man who makes sure his partner is satisfied first.

When Wilder finishes the check-in process, he takes my bag and guides me to the elevator with a hand on my lower back. Even through my clothing, the light touch sears into me like a brand. “I was thinking we could order in. I don't know about you, but I’m starving.”

I’m starving, alright, but it has nothing to do with food. I don’t dare say that. “I could eat.”

The elevator bell dings, and he quirks a surprisingly well-manicured brow as we step inside.

“You can’t say things like that, or I’ll take it as an invitation.

As it stands, I think we both need dinner before we do anything else.

” As if on cue, my stomach rumbles loud enough for the entire hotel to hear, and Wilder’s lips tip up ever so slightly. “Good. We’re in agreement then.”

Ever the gentleman, Wilder slides the card over the reader and holds the door open for me to enter our room first. It’s sweet, but I’d love to see what he looks like when he’s not being chivalrous.

The room is surprisingly spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall.

The queen bed takes up half of the wall on the right, with pristine white linens, and a nightstand on either side.

There’s a door leading to the bathroom on the left, with a simple standup shower and the usual amenities lining the white marble countertop. It’s nothing special.

He stops near a dark wood armoire and deposits our luggage there before heading over to the window and tugging open the curtains.

The view of the river takes my breath away as the last light of the setting sun reflects off the water’s surface, painting it in a riot of vibrant color.

As I step up beside Wilder, peace settles over me, and the worries of the day dissipate.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.

“Yeah. It is,” he says, but he’s not looking at the river. His gorgeous eyes seem to hold more depth now, from the richest brown on the outer edges to the lighter, almost golden swirls closer to the center.

I clear my throat and take a step back. “So, what do you want to eat? For dinner. I mean.” I didn’t need to clarify, but I’m flustered, and every word is suddenly steeped in innuendo.

His shoulders shake with quiet laughter as he tugs his phone from his pocket. “I’m not picky. Any preferences?”

“I’m allergic to shellfish, but I’m good with anything that won’t kill me.”

“Probably for the best. How about Chinese food?”

I nod, and he proceeds to order half the menu for us to share. When the food arrives, we settle against the headboard and dig right into the takeout containers with our chopsticks. I fumble with my lo mein, narrowly missing my mouth before slurping it up.

“What do you do for work?” I reach for one of the spring rolls.

“Short answer, I’m a farrier,” he mumbles around a bite of chicken, covering his mouth with his hand, “but now that I’m heading back home, I’ll probably be thrown into the business side of things, too.”

I swallow around another bite then ask, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but what the fuck is a farrier?”

Wilder chuckles. He drops his chopsticks in the container and swipes a hand over his beard in a move that I probably shouldn’t find sexy, but here I am, damn near drooling into the box of noodles. “We take care of horses' hooves, forge and fit their shoes, that kind of thing.”

“Wait. Are you a cowboy? That’s so hot.”

“In a very broad sense of the word, yes. My parents own a horse ranch, and it’s been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. But I’m not sure why you’d think smelling like hay and horse shit is hot.”

“Well, not when you put it that way.” I smack the backside of my palm against his chest. Jesus, you could break a hand doing that.

“Don’t yuck my yum. I used to love horses as a kid.

My parents would take me to this local ranch for riding lessons, but there was some big falling out, and we never went back. ”

“If you’re ever in my neck of the woods, I’ll take you riding,” he says offhandedly.

My mind goes straight to the gutter. I open my mouth to ask where his neck of the woods is, but he quickly diverts the question back to me, and the fleeting thought floats into the ether.

“What do you do?” he asks.

“Funny story. I quit my job this morning. You know, right before I caught my boyfriend fucking my best friend. Before I quit, I was a barista at a coffee shop.”

“Woah. Back up. Why did you quit?”

“Because my loving boyfriend of three years convinced me I should open my own bakery. He offered to invest, and all I’d have to do is find a building and get the ball rolling.

I saved up for six months, found the perfect little storefront in Denver, put down a non-refundable deposit, and, well, you know the rest.”

There’s a sharp twinge of pain in my chest when I relay the story, but that’s all it is right now, a twinge.

I bypassed the denial stage of grief while Jake was still jackhammering into my best friend, but the anger is lingering just beneath the surface.

Maybe that’s why I’m not sobbing into my lo mein.

“I’m sorry, Liv.” He squeezes my thigh.

I offer up a small smile and pat his hand, then reach over to his takeout box and pluck out a piece of sesame chicken. He snatches the box away with a self-satisfied grin, but not before I slip the delicious bite between my lips.

His eyes narrow on me as I scrunch up my nose. “Thief,” he says.

“I thought we were sharing,” I tease.

“I’ll let it slide this time, but if you touch my fortune cookie, all bets are off.”

“Given my recent track record, I’m not sure I want to look at mine.”

“Where’s the fun in that? Come on. Let’s skip to the good part.” He places our takeout boxes on the nightstand and plucks the fortune cookies from the bottom of the smiley face bag. “We’ll do it together. On three. One… two… three.”

A synchronized cracking sound fills the room as a few pieces crumble into my lap. I pull out the tiny slip of paper, pinching my eyes shut and turning my face away as I hand it over to Wilder. “You do it. I can’t look.”

“Wow. These things are crazy accurate nowadays. ‘You’ll meet a handsome stranger on an airplane,’” he says, his tone steeped in amusement.

“Come on. Tell me what it really says.”

“Keep an open heart, and joy is sure to follow.”

“Oh. That’s actually really sweet. What does yours say? ”

He places my fortune in the palm of my hand, before peeling open his own, his brow furrowing when he glances at the paper. “Nothing. It’s blank.”

“What? That’s so weird.”

He shrugs and tosses it to the nightstand, wordlessly packing up the leftovers. “It’s getting late. Do you want to shower first?”

“Sure.” I slide out of bed and pad over to the bathroom.

Glancing around the corner one last time, I see Wilder standing in the window, his hands locked behind his neck, putting his corded muscles on full display.

My eyes drag down the length of his body to his toned ass in those wrangler jeans he wears far too well.

There’s something about a barefoot man that really does it for me; it’s almost like seeing them without their armor.

“You’re drooling,” he says, catching my eye in the reflection of the glass.

“What can I say? The view is spectacular.”

I disappear into the bathroom, resting my back against the cool surface of the door to calm my racing heart.

The look in Wilder’s eyes has me feeling reckless, and I don’t know what to do with that.

I strip off my clothes and hop in the shower, hoping the water will wash away the longing I feel for a man I met less than five hours ago.

If anything good can come of this day, let it be a retractable shower head.

I peek one eye open, studying the enclosed shower.

Jackpot.