Page 62 of Wild Card (Men of Action #4)

I wander aimlessly through the aisle, a jeweled cosmetics organizer catching my eye. Normally, this wouldn’t be my style, but my new fixation with home décor has me rethinking all my past choices.

People are allowed to change their style, Willow .

I smiled at Rowan’s enthusiasm as she tore the page out of the magazine and added it to the pile.

At the reminder, I head to the office supply section to grab file folders to organize my growing décor inspirations.

All of this is part of my ‘No Moping’ policy.

No more sitting around imagining the worst.

No more avoiding my feelings and my friends.

No more pretending to study while actually lying in a dark room.

It’s been four days since my impromptu dinner party, and also four days since I shed a tear.

That night was the wake-up call I needed.

After assuring everyone I was okay for the millionth time, and promising no more pity parties, it was time for a plan.

Structure… I thrive with structure.

Until Talon gets home and blows my world back to smithereens, it’s time to put my schedule on track.

Unfortunately, Abe is unable to offer me hours until after the exam. Even volunteering was rejected. It was obvious he felt bad and knew I was plugging in hours of my day, but his hands were tied.

I had to pivot my thinking.

It’s amazing how much moping consumed my life.

My calendar is now filled with dedicated study hours, and then I leave the house.

I’ve spent time with Maverick, allowing Harley to have breaks.

I’ve taken the dogs to the park, and actually remembered to load them in the car.

Yesterday was Wyatt’s end-of-the-year field day, which left me completely exhausted.

At night, I’ve revived my interest in cooking that took a nose dive years ago. Rowan and I eat and then plunge into stacks of home décor magazines, discussing our design choices.

Tomorrow is the highly awaited spa day at Rendezvous with Bex.

All in all, things are turning around.

The amount of options in the office supply section is another reminder of how out of touch I’ve been. Most of my school supplies are ordered online to avoid stores.

Basic, drab, neutral… manila folders, blue and black pens… composite notebooks… just to get the job done.

Today, the choices inspire me. I select a whole filing system with decorative files and folders and a chrome frame for organization.

Then I decide Rowan needs the same.

Spontaneity shock strikes at the number of items in my cart.

This was a quick trip to fill time and grab some necessities.

It’s not my fault the baby clothes are adorable. Each of the boys needs these outfits. The dogs have been good and deserve all the treats. Wyatt had a fantastic year and earned a few gifts.

No one really goes bankrupt from a trip to Target.

Do they?

I make a mental note that retail therapy comes with restrictions next time.

But for today, fuck it. I turn back to the cosmetics area, knowing exactly where I’m placing the jeweled organizer. Talon will likely break out in hives when he sees that I’ve added sparkle and glam to his monochromatic bathroom.

I smile at the thought, swallowing my giggle at his reaction.

Two girls pass, and the stench of sweetness has my stomach churning. I fight back a gag, holding my breath to rush out of the path of their body spray.

Or whatever it was.

Did they bathe in the stuff?

Damn Shayla and her shots. My stomach hasn’t felt right since waking up after being forced to down several Ankles in the Air.

Admittedly, they are delicious.

Not so much the next morning… or few days. I need to ask what was in them because it doesn’t agree with me.

Another scent waifs in the air, this one woodsy with a hint of musk and earth.

I migrate to the men’s body care section, taking the familiar body wash off the shelf and inhaling deeply.

Talon’s same-scented bar of soap is in the shower, but it doesn’t smell nearly as delicious as this one my hand. Does men’s soap have a shelf life?

Even if it doesn’t, it won’t hurt to buy this one and have extra on hand. Will he gawk at body wash in place of bar soap? Is that a macho badass thing?

I’m so lost in thought, the presence beside me is oblivious until a throat clears.

I jolt back, tripping over the buggy, my ankle clipping in an awkward angle. I cry out, preparing to catch my fall when hands clasp around my arms. My eyes bulge as Joseph comes into view.

“Willow, are you okay?” He scans me from head to toe.

“Y-y-yes, I was startled and lost my footing.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been standing here for a minute trying to get your attention.”

“I-I-I was in my?—”

“…head. You were in your head.”

I nod, heat blazing up my neck, realizing I’m still clutching the men’s body wash. “Um, yeah, it’s a habit lately.”

“You stressed about the exams?”

I open my mouth to answer then straighten, realizing this is Joseph. He doesn’t get to have a normal conversation about my upcoming exam—or anything in my life.

“Thanks for that save. I need to go.”

“Wait.” He reaches for me again and I recoil.

The desolation on his face pierces my chest and I exhale. “Joseph, we don’t have anything to say to one another.”

“I wanted to call, ask you to lunch, thank you for your part in that situation. Sterling told me you gave your full support.”

“Actually, it was nothing to me. Not my money, not my mistake, not my problem.”

“That day at your house, things were intense. I didn’t want to believe it, but deep down, I suspected Rylee was responsible.”

“Your instincts were on point.”

“Is that guy still in the picture?”

My hand instantly goes to my necklace, and his eyes fall to the diamond on the band, flaring wide. “What is that? You’re marrying him?” His gaze drops to the cart and flick back to me. “He knocked you up?”

“Oh my God! The gall you have. Not that it’s your business, but those are presents for my friends. And, yes, I’m marrying Talon.”

He flinches as if I delivered a blow. “He’s not your type and you just met him.”

I toss the body wash in the basket and grip the handle to stop myself from slapping him. “He’s not my type? Didn’t we cover this when you showed up uninvited a few months ago?”

“I wanted to have this conversation in a more private place. I’m concerned, Willow. Regardless of what you believe, I do care. He’s brainwashed you. There’s something not right about him. He monitored your house without your permission and dictates who you talk to. That’s obsessive behavior.”

I glare at him, willing myself not to lose my mind and cause a scene.

“He’s covered in tattoos and drives a motorcycle. That’s exactly the opposite of you.”

I draw in a deep breath and exhale, doing it again for good measure, leaning in and barely controlling my voice.

“We did this once. I tried to spare your feelings before, but you didn’t get it. He doesn’t shame me for my ambition and determination, always encouraging the best in me. Something I never had before.”

His gaze flares with shame, but he still presses on. “I fucked up, that’s not a secret, but he’s not good for you.”

“You’re right.”

He jerks back in surprise at my agreement.

“He’s the best thing that ever happened to me. He loves Wolf, he adores Wyatt, but even more, he cherishes me.”

“You let him around Wyatt?”

Ice floods my bloodstream at his insinuation. “I’m not sure who loves Talon more, me or Wyatt. My whole family is crazy about him. Even Stacy has become a fan.”

The last part may be a stretch since I don’t exactly chat with her on a daily basis.

His shoulders slump and his expression changes. It’s obvious he wants to say more. After a few seconds of awkward silence, his face fills with resignation. “I’m glad you’re happy, Willow.”

Whoa, talk about mercurial shifts.

“Thank you, Joseph.”

His eyes go over my shoulder and his body stiffens.

“Ma’am, you okay?”

Great, if Joseph gets me evicted from Target, I will kick his ass. I spin, trying to paste a smile when my ankle protests and a whimper escapes.

He takes a step forward, his gaze forceful, taking in the situation.

At the sight of him, I inhale sharply. He’s an enormous man, dressed in all black, the fabric of his shirt strained across his massive chest and arms. This guy is not your typical employee. Something about him is familiar, but before I can pinpoint why, he slices his threatening eyes to Joseph.

“Are you bothering this lady?”

“N-n-no, I’m fine.”

“What happened to your ankle?”

“I tripped over my cart—such a klutz.” I wave nonchalantly, trying to sound cheery.

He’s not convinced, staring me down.

“Really, it’s all okay.” I twist back, pretending this was a friendly encounter. “Bye, Joseph, have a nice day.”

“Take care of yourself, Willow. Be happy.”

The stranger watches him walk away then dips his chin, following behind. The nagging feeling returns that I’ve seen that man before.

My ankle throbs, the area around the bone starting to swell. Guess I’m adding an ankle brace to my shopping list.

I hobble over to the first-aid area, passing through the feminine products. Automatically, I reach for a box of tampons, figuring it’s a good idea to stock up.

Then I stop dead in my tracks.

My mind races, mentally retracing the last month… the last six weeks… the last two months.

When did I have my last period?

Oh my God, was it…? When Talon was at his reserve weekend?

No, no, no… this can’t be.

“I lost the battle of wills and the man has super sperm that outwitted my birth control.”

Jewls’ words bounce around my brain. I thought it was comical at the time.

Super sperm… Could it be a real thing?

I take my birth control religiously. It’s never failed me before.

Then again, I also wasn’t having sex multiple times a day with Talon Simms.

A man who could make women pregnant with just a wink and a smirk.

Not to mention his body, the tattoos, the way he kisses…

Get it together, Willow! Now is not the time to fantasize about your possible fiancé and his stratospheric abilities to— STOP!

Let’s think logically. Do I have any symptoms?

No…

Unless you count my uncontrollable emotions, the multi-day hangover and vomiting from Shayla’s shots, the gag-worthy, stomach-turning reaction to certain smells like those women earlier, the craving for Talon’s touch.

Nope—no symptoms at all.

Who am I kidding?

My eyes go to the family planning section, the row of pregnancy tests taunting me.

All thoughts of the last ten minutes fly out of my head as I snatch one of every brand, tossing them into the cart.

Then for good measure, I grab double.

Without taking the first test, my body already knows the answer. But my brain will need all the proof.