Page 92 of Wild Card

I sit beside Bash in the cab of his truck, staring out the window, the tension between us simmering like ripples above asphalt on a hot day.

He just kicked his own son out of his house.

That’s enough.

The firm way Bash’s deep voice sliced through the air had startled me. And I didn’t miss the way Clyde’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead.

Tripp, though? Tripp’s expression was pure disbelief. I get the sense he isn’t accustomed to being treated like he doesn’t walk on water.

I could kick myself for giving him the time of day at all. The version of himself he showed me then didn’t seem so…immature.

The strife between them does nothing but cause me instant anxiety. It forces me to think back on the phone call with my mom this morning before I came downstairs. Our annual birthday call where she speaks in hushed tones like my dad might be ready to pop out of hiding and scold her for betraying his edict. We never talk about anything very profound, but I stillfeel a burst of excitement when I see her name pop up on my phone screen.

On the one hand, I love hearing from my mom. On the other… It always leaves me feeling empty. Wishing for more. Dreaming of approval I know I’ll never get.

“I’m sorry he ruined your birthday breakfast,” Bash says, pulling me from my thoughts.

I turn my head slowly, my gaze landing on the man seated beside me. Heavily corded arms outstretched, big hands wrapped tight around the steering wheel at ten and two. I can tell by his white knuckles he’s squeezing the hell out of it. “He didn’t. No one could ever ruin that breakfast. It was the best.”

And I’m not lying. Tripp feels like a minor annoyance. One that I washed down with eggs Benedict and waffles—neither of which he would approve of.

In the close quarters of Bash’s truck, it’s a little too easy to forget about Tripp. I like this little bubble containing only Bash and me. So I resolve to leave this morning in the past where it belongs and let myself be present for whatever adventure we’re about to embark on.

Bash’s dark eyes slide my way for a beat before focusing back on the road. “You liked it?”

“No.” He tenses, and I smile. He’s so easy to rile up sometimes. “Ilovedit.”

“What did you like the best? So I know for next time.”

My heart does this girlish pitter-patter in my chest.Next time.God, I hope so.

“I couldn’t choose. I loved all of it equally. Can’t go wrong. And I’m not just saying that to flatter you.”

He lets out a low grunting sound as his hands twist on the steering wheel. “Fine. I’ll just make it all again.”

I press my lips together, biting down on my smile. This is quintessential Bash. He sounds all surly about it, but he alsodoesn’t bat an eye at making an absolutely ridiculous breakfast spread just because I like it. Hell, if I needed a kidney, he’d probably offer me his remaining one.

I’ve never known a man with a heart so big. And I think that’s the thing I love about him the most.

Love.

My throat tightens, and I brush imaginary dust from the tops of my thighs before changing the subject. “Where are we going again?” We’ve done nothing but head straight out of town so far.

One corner of his mouth quirks up. “I didn’t tell you.”

“Right. But now you could.”

“Sorry, no can do. It wouldn’t be a surprise if I did.”

I cross my arms and flop back with a dramatic pout on my lips.

He chuckles. It’s deep, low, and feels like velvet sliding over my skin. It makes me want to crawl over the center console and sit in his lap.

“But the good news is…” My attention flicks to him as he brakes, arms crossing over to turn the vehicle. “We’re here.”

I turn away from him, eyes locking on the driveway we’ve just turned onto. The weathered sign to our right readsRose Valley Airstripin faded white letters. My gaze flicks back just in time to watch him press a button on one of the fobs clipped onto the sun visor.

Now the gate opens.