Page 3 of Wildly Yours (Owl Creek #3)

T he sun is high in the sky and every retired person in Owl Creek chose today to get their garden shopping done.

Mom came in and got her seeds as the deluge arrived.

Bless her heart, she pulled on her old blue gingham apron and helped us ring up customers.

As she worked through the line, she chatted with every person and asked after grandkids, dogs, and roof replacements, just like old times.

As I see her effortlessly help people find what they need, I wonder if she doesn’t miss being a part of the community the way she lights up talking to her old neighbors.

When my parents handed the store over to me I was ready to run the place, but I wasn’t ready for them to move to the middle of a ten acre property an hour from town. I wasn’t ready for the doomsday fantasies I’d grown up with to become their daily obsession.

Like all the kids around here, I grew up learning how to hunt and fish, build shelters and start fires, but I always thought it was normal rural living—until the day my dad purposely stranded me in the woods when I was twelve to test my survival instincts.

And then when they started stockpiling salt, seeds, and canning equipment a couple of years later, I realized that we weren’t like other families.

I call up my veggie starts supplier in Maple Grove when there’s a short lull in customers.

He’s a beekeeper and flower seed farmer that expanded into vegetable plug production a couple years ago, and I swear there’s something magical about his plants.

They always look greener, stronger, and better rooted compared to everyone else’s on the peninsula.

In a couple of hours we sell out of all the strawberry, spinach, lettuce, and onion plants, and the stock of planting potatoes is almost gone. I order a few trays of everything he has, and a couple cases of his honey, which is another thing that flies off the shelves.

If only he was single.

I push my silly fantasies of Troy The Farmer out of my mind and focus on finishing up the day. After I leave work I have a couple hours to spend at City Hall wearing my mayor hat, and then off to the Senior Center to serve food and to campaign for my re-election.

My friend Zoe, who is sort of new to town and the new owner of Mabel’s Books, brings in an order of some gardening books that she promised to sell me for cost. Zoe moved to town last fall and managed what no other woman has accomplished.

She turned perennial heartthrob Caleb Barone from a playboy who starred in every woman’s personal fantasies, into a golden retriever boyfriend.

I think she might be the most envied woman in Owl Creek.

She grabs a couple hanging baskets, potting soil, and plant starts for the front porch of the bookstore, and scoots out minutes before the door darkens with the presence of the one man who simultaneously makes my blood boil and lady parts sigh.

Cody Barone.

He’s Caleb’s twin, though the two couldn’t be more different.

Cody is feral. He smells like pine needles and sunshine.

His body is built from living in the forest—hauling downed tree limbs, rebuilding washed out trails, and climbing to the top of the mountain like a freaking mountain goat to survey the park he manages.

Not that I keep track of what Cody is doing up there on the mountain.

I feel a ripple of anger touch every one of my organs before my knees grow weak and my nether regions blossom with inextricable desire for the one man in this town that I will never touch.

Why is he here? He hasn’t set foot in this store since…

Thankfully, Hadley steps over and tries to help him so I turn to walk away, willing my body to keep me upright until I can make it to the safety of my office.

Three watering cans, five hunting vests, one blue clay pot.

I can’t let him see me like this. My hands are shaking and my tongue feels fat in my mouth.

I don't want him to know he has this effect on me after all these years. Hiding out feels like he’s still getting the better of me, but at least I can close myself off and calm down.

I step into my office and turn to shut the door when a hand flashes before my eyes and holds the door open.

Cody is standing in my tiny shop office. He’s close enough that I can register his sweet forest scent. I can see his jaw working, and can see the individual hairs that make up the scruff of his week-old shave.

When did he start shaving his beard?

I shake my head.

“Nope. Not today, Satan.”

Only moments ago I was on a high because we had one of our best sales days ever, and it’s only two o’clock.

Coupled with the fact my mother discreetly plugged my campaign to the silver-haired set, I thought I was going to sail through the rest of my day and have time to log into the dating apps tonight. But in an instant, the ground shifted.

Silly me. He’ll always be my kryptonite.

Cody’s face contorts awkwardly. I can’t figure out if he has indigestion or he’s trying to smile. After a pregnant moment, he finally opens that once-eager mouth of his.

“What happened to your normal sunny disposition?”

“What do you know about my disposition?” I cross my arms and catch his eyes move like lightning down to my chest and back up.

“The Serena I know—”

“You don’t know me. Not anymore.”

The tone of my voice rattles me. There is no one else in this town who brings this out in me, and it frustrates me that he frustrates me.

It pisses me off that seven years after ‘that night’, he gets under my skin in an instant.

And now he’s standing here, close enough to see the pupils of my eyes, and he knows he still has that power over me. My pathetic ruse is up.

“I need to talk to you about official business.”

“Then come to my office at Town Hall. I’ll be there a couple minutes after four o’clock.”

He grunts like the man I knew long ago.

“That’s two hours from now.”

“Well I guess you’ll have to find something to keep yourself occupied until I am ready to talk ‘official business’.” I use air quotes aggressively, as if my volume and tone aren’t communicating enough of my discomfort.

“I need some new shovels for the trail crew.”

“Hadley will be happy to help you. Now please leave my office.”

His eyebrows are set in a scowl, and I feel like my lady parts are betraying me as they vie for my attention.

How does his presence do this to me?

I wait for him to buy his shovels and leave before I step back out onto the sales floor. Things have finally slowed down for the day, so I busy myself restocking the locally made soap. My mother slides up next to me as she pulls off her apron.

“Still feuding with that Barone boy?”

“He’s not a boy, mom. He’s a grown man.”

“I’ll say he is.” My mother wiggles her eyebrows, earning a groan from me.

“I’m not feuding with him. I just don’t trust him.”

“You don’t trust anyone.”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“Serena, it’s time to stop making your father and I the villain of your story.”

“Are you kidding me right now? When have I ever made you a villain?”

“You’re doing it right now.”

“I think I’m justified in having trust issues considering you drilled independence and skepticism with a dash of doomsday fear into my daily life.”

“We just wanted you to be prepared for what’s coming.”

“I’ll tell you what is coming, Mom. I’m going to get re-elected because instead of hiding out in the middle of nowhere with my stockpiles of food and god knows what else, I choose to believe there is another option.

I’m trying to keep this community connected so that we can face the future together.

Now, I know in your heart you believe in this too, otherwise you wouldn’t have been whispering to everyone today about my campaign. ”

“Is this your way of thanking me?”

I pull my mom into a hug. As much as she frustrates me, I cherish our relationship.

“Thank you for helping out today and for reminding your old friends they should vote for me. I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey. Now add a jar of that delicious honey to my tally. I have to go.”

Alarms sound in my body again .

“Why are you taking honey? You guys have plenty of bee hives.”

“They all died this winter, and we’ve already run out of the honey we harvested last year.”

“Is Dad freaking out?”

My mother reaches up and rubs the space between her eyebrows. It's her tell when she's anxious. She could never beat me in poker because of that one gesture.

“Between the weevils in the peas and the mites that decimated our bees, your father is experiencing anxiety-induced heart palpitations.”

For the umpteenth time today I feel a jolt in my system. I really need to meditate later to calm myself down because right now I'm about to open the imaginary safety box in my mind and put my thoughts in there to settle myself.

“What? Has he seen a doctor?”

“Only the medicine man from the tribe.”

“And?”

“And he’s been going on more solo walks. He doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“So that’s it? He’s going for a walk?”

“Like I said, he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

My mother pulls me in for another hug and kisses the top of my head.

“Don’t fight with the Barone boy. You used to be such close friends.”

“Mom—”

“Life is too short, my love.”

She pulls away and walks back to the office to hang up her old apron on the peg where it has always hung.

Nostalgia gets the better of me and I feel my throat catch as I watch her leave with her honey and seeds.

As she disappears into the spring day, all that’s left is a bitter taste in my mouth from Cody Barone.