Page 42 of Sweet Escape (Whispering Oaks Ranch #1)

Wild and Reckless

? Your Man - Josh Turner

Wilder

I was a goddamn idiot to think I’d get through this night unscathed. We’re not even out the door yet, and Olivia’s already testing my resolve in a denim bell-bottom jumpsuit with a plunging neckline and sparkly boots. She looks like she should be on stage instead of on my arm.

“If you could just pick your jaw up off the floor, we might actually make it to the concert,” Ruby says, taunting me.

Olivia fluffs her blonde waves in the mirror as I stand in the hallway with my sister, staring over the threshold into my bedroom.

“You did this on purpose,” I murmur.

“Of course I did. She’s hot as fuck, and she needed the reminder. Your shabby tees were doing nothing for her.”

“They were doing something for me. I like her wearing my tees.”

“Of course you do. It makes her a walking, talking ‘Wilder Hayes was here’ billboard. But she’s still a woman, and she deserves to feel beautiful, too.”

I grumble a curse under my breath. “I’m gonna be fending off men all damn night thanks to you.”

“Good. Maybe it’ll convince you to get your head outta your ass and ask her to be your girlfriend instead of this fucked up roommates with benefits situation you have going on.”

“Roo…”

“What? You think it’s a secret you two go at it like rabbits every chance you get? She’s not a broodmare, Wilder. You should try actually courting her.”

“Courting? What is this, the eighteen-hundreds?”

She pins me with that all-too-familiar glare Mama gives us often.

“You’re too damn nosey for your own good.”

“You love me.”

Sighing, I wrap my arm around her shoulder and kiss the side of her head. “Yeah. I do.”

We pull up to the bar thirty minutes before Ruby’s supposed to go on stage, parking around back in the employee lot so Liam can sneak her in as a surprise for the birthday girl.

The Ridge has changed a lot in recent years—a far cry from the small town dive it once was.

It has a much more upscale rustic vibe, with natural wood and industrial accents.

High-top tables and chairs are scattered around a makeshift dance floor, a mic stand and stool already set atop the small stage off to the right, and there’s a crowd growing around the bar to the left, its pristine live edge countertop littered with coasters and drinks .

One thing that hasn't changed since the last time I was here is the collection of black and white photographs hanging on the wall behind the bar, chronicling the town’s history above the neatly lined liquor bottles.

If you look closely, in the top right corner, there’s a photograph of my great-grandparents on the ranch back when it was little more than a single barn and the old farmhouse I now call home.

“What do you want to drink, Cupcake?” She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. “Wait. Let me guess. Something sweet. Shirley Temple?”

She narrows her eyes at me and crosses her arms over her chest, drawing my attention to her tits peeking out beneath that dangerously low neckline. “Let me guess, whiskey neat? Blanton’s bourbon?”

I chuckle. “Any other day, maybe. I have to get my baby mama home safely, so it’s just soda for me tonight.”

“I can drive,” she says.

“No.” My tone is clipped, and I don’t wait for her to argue, flagging down the bartender. “Can we get a cola and a Shirley Temple?”

Liv’s hand rests gently on my forearm. “Hey. Are you okay?”

Clearing my throat, I nod. “I’m fine.”

Once the bartender returns with our drinks, I slide some cash across the bar and gesture for her to follow me to one of the high-top tables near the stage.

Liv perches on one of the stools, but not without difficulty.

Her belly bumps the table, rattling our drinks.

She winces and places a hand over her Shirley Temple to stop it from spilling, then wipes her hand on a napkin.

I remain standing, wanting to be as close to her as I can, resting my forearm on the table and the other hand on her thigh.

“Everybody’s staring,” she whispers, her hot breath fanning over my cheek .

“Have you seen yourself? You’re a fucking knockout.”

“I think it’s more to do with the melon I’ve smuggled in under my outfit, but thanks, Big Guy.”

I shift my hand to her belly and smile. Our gazes lock, and her eyes dip to my lips. “We could give them something else to stare at. Kiss me, Pretty Girl. Stake your claim.”

She eyes me warily. “You want that?”

“Fuck yes.” I fist her hair and crush her mouth against mine. A few of the drunk townies hoot and holler in the distance.

She giggles against my lips, and the sound goes straight to my dick. I’m so fucked.

Following our very public, almost indecent display, our attention is pulled to the stage, where Ruby settles on a stool in front of a mic with an acoustic guitar in hand.

Ruby is in her element, looking every bit the country music star that she is.

She’s wearing her pink bell-bottoms and a crop top, topping off the look with a white jeweled cowboy hat.

She waves a hand toward a set of three tables that have been pushed together.

“This one’s for you, Mags. Happy birthday. ”

Olivia

After an incredible set, Ruby takes one final bow and dashes off stage. I distantly wonder if she’s rushing to see the broody ginger bartender who has been eyeing her from across the room. He seems to be MIA, too.

“Olivia!” Maggie bounces on her feet, swishing her lavender dress as she flags me down. “Come dance with us!”

I met Maggie and her best friend Paige shortly after I moved back to Oak Ridge, and Grammy convinced me to join their book club.

I wouldn’t say we’re besties, but we’re friendly enough, and I could really use some friends outside of the ranch.

T hree grown men and a toddler might be a great movie title, but they don’t make for the best company.

“Go,” Wilder says. “ I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

I lift onto my toes and kiss his cheek. “Try not to get into any trouble without me.”

I can still feel his gaze on me when I leave to join my friends.

“Happy birthday, Mags,” I say.

She pulls me in for a one-armed hug. I can smell the tequila seeping out of her pores. My nose scrunches.

“Having fun?” I ask.

“Best fucking birthday ever !” she squeals. “Didn’t think I’d be spending it sandwiched between two very pregnant people, though.”

I snort, and Ivy shrugs, cradling her baby belly. She’s a few months further along in her pregnancy. I’m surprised she’s here at all, to be honest. She could safely go into labor at any moment. It’s probably why Luca hasn’t taken his eyes off her the entire time she’s been dancing with us.

“I’m sure you’d much rather be sandwiched between Miles Barlow and the wall, but you’re stuck with us for a little while longer,” Ivy quips.

The music slows to a ballad, and both Ivy and Maggie are drawn away by their men.

I’m just about to head back to the bar for a bottle of water when two large hands land on my hips.

But it’s not Wilder; I always know it's him before I see him.

I bristle under the touch, trying to pull away, but the grip on my hips only tightens.

“If you know what’s good for you, you'll let go of my woman.”

Wilder.

“She was my woman first,” the other man says.

My face pales. “Jake? What the fuck are you doing here? Let me go!” I elbow him in the ribs, and his hands drop .

Wilder pulls me into his chest, one palm splaying across my belly. “Are you okay?”

I nod, breathing deeply in an attempt to slow my racing heart. Wilder’s lips touch my forehead, soothing my ragged nerves.

“Is it even his?” Jake asks. “Bet you made your way around this whole fucking town, spreading your legs for any man who was willing to fuck you.”

Wilder lunges, but I grab his bicep and pull him back. I’ve never seen him so angry. Gone is the composed cowboy I’ve come to know, replaced by a fierce protector hellbent on defending me. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

“What are you even doing in Oak Ridge?” I ask. “Where’s Amber?”

“She wanted to come here and apologize to you, but she got shit faced and ran off with some guy instead. How come you never looked like this when we were together?” His eyes stray to my chest a little too long.

I physically recoil. Once upon a time, I would’ve preened under that gaze; now it just feels predatory.“I don’t want your apologies. And I sure as fuck don’t need you eye fucking me either. Leave.”

“You stupid bitch. You think this guy wants you? You’re just some fucktoy to him.”

Wilder shoves me behind him, his knuckles white, and rears back. His fist connects with Jake’s jaw in a sickening crack. The music stops, and all eyes land on us.

Jake cradles his face, a bruise already forming from the impact. “I should have you arrested!”

“Did y’all see anything?” Wilder asks, scanning the crowd.

“Sure did,” Gramps says. “Clumsy asshole fell and hit his face on the table.”

Another voice chimes in. “Yeah.”

I spot Luca and Ivy in my periphery, his arm wrapped protectively around his wife. “Everything okay over here?” he asks.

“Fine,” Wilder responds. “This piece of shit was just leaving.”

“Not without my bunny.”

“Ha!” I scoff. “You’ll be waiting a while, asshole. I’m not going anywhere with you—and I’m not your bunny. I’m not your anything anymore.”

Wilder’s eyes darken, and he brings his face within inches of Jake’s.

Color leaches from my ex as Wilder looms over him, his corded muscles pulled taut with barely restrained fury.

This shouldn’t be turning me on, but fuck if I’m not ready to jump his bones after this.

“I suggest you get the fuck out of our town before we run you out.”

It’s then that Jake finally decides to read the room. A group of townies is closing in, waiting for the first chance to take him out. One thing about Oak Ridge—you don’t fuck with their people and get away with it.

“You’ll come crawling back,” Jake spits.