Fly (Wild Love Book 2)

by Red L. Jameson

  I know neither H nor Jay will love me or want to have sex with me. I’m pregnant. I’m single and pregnant. As progressive as most people are these days, there are still some who would love to slap a scarlet letter on my clothes and label me a slut. I wonder if my mother is one of them.

  I take a big breath, trying to keep ahold of my grin. “I know I don’t have to. But I’d like to take you guys out to dinner. You’ve been so—”

  “We’ll pay,” Jay says.

  H stares at him, his brows furrowed. Then he glances at me with a slow smile. “Yeah, there’s no way we’re going to let you pay for dinner.”

  For a brief moment, I wonder if they were frozen for the last sixty years. Their chivalry is something I’ve never seen before—men who shovel snow for me, men who carry me away from a car crash, men who insist on paying for dinner. I thought guys like this were long dead.

  I blink and shake my head. “No way. You guys have shoveled my walk and porch—”

  “It’s my pleasure.” H shakes his head and crosses his arms as if he’d just revealed a world-saving code to an enemy and not the nicety he’d just uttered.

  I shrug. “It’s the least I can do. Take you guys out to dinner, I mean.”

  H looks at Jay, and I’m not sure, but I think he’s smiling. Jay’s beard is a lot bushier than H’s. His mustache is definitely covering his lips. But his light blue eyes crinkle at the corners.

  “I have to go back into town anyway, get groceries,” I say, trying again to sound casual. That’s me, Casual Dee. I don’t think men will instantly want me. No! Maybe even fall in love with me in no time flat. I’m just cas-u-al. Yep. Even if I’m trembling and worried I might cry. The crying is hormones, I’m sure.

  “You need groceries?” Jay asks.

  I nod and look over my shoulder at the expansive kitchen furnished in my lodge. “Yeah, I should get some groceries, so I don’t have to eat out for every meal.” Why I always over-explain myself is beyond me. Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t told them my life story at this point.

  H nods. “We can definitely help you get your groceries.”

  I begin to argue that I don’t want help with my groceries. I can get them myself. But the next thing I know, H and Jay are taking off their snow pants, revealing amazingly defined asses in blue jeans. And I’m being ushered into my Jeep, H driving, and Jay in the back. They seem to be on a mission to get me food—that’s military men for you. But we still haven’t nailed down the logistics of dinner.

  While on the twenty-minute drive, sometimes I wonder if I feel Jay’s eyes on me. But that’s silly. He’s not attracted to me. And I shouldn’t even concern myself with such thoughts because I’m not attracted to any man at this point. Nope. Not at all attracted to either man—H who is beautiful enough to model, and Jay whose silence intrigues me as much as his raspy voice makes me want to shudder. Yep, not attracted to anyone here.

  “Sorry to make you get back in your Jeep,” H says as he drives slowly into the outskirts of Ennis. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “You mean okay to be back in my Wrangler?” I ask. “After I drove it into the snowdrift like an idiot?”

  “You’re not an idiot.” Jay’s voice over the noise of the road causes my sex to instantly rouse and purr. Little does Jay know that I am an idiot. At least parts of me are.

  I smile and glance over my shoulder at him before I answer H. “Yeah, I’m fine. That slide into the drift was nothing. I’ve crashed a lot bigger and badder than that.” I wince, realizing how embarrassingly honest I’m being.

  H smiles. I like his smile, the way his gold skin crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the skin around his beard even crinkles. “Not your first crash, huh?”

  I laugh. If I’m being this humiliatingly real, may as well tell them the rest, then. “I crashed my first car at sixteen. I was driving this humongous eighties Pontiac with rear-wheel drive and bald tires on a sheet of ice. I can’t believe I didn’t take any other cars down with me.”

  H laughs. “So you’re an expert at crashing now?”

  “Probably.”

  H’s grin dims. “Still, sorry to make you get back in your Jeep. If we had a car, we’d be driving you in it.”

  And that’s when it finally dawns on me that I know nothing about these guys, other than they’re chivalrous beyond compare. Then again, they could be serial killers who want to drive my car before they kill me.

  “So, if you don’t mind me asking,” I finally summon some courage, even though my voice is somewhat shaky and high pitched, “what are you guys doing—”

  “You mean, how was it that we happened upon you when we did?” H’s skin wrinkles again at the corners of his eyes. He’s smiling. A lot. “Are we stalking you, that kind of thing?”

  I laugh. “Yeah, that kind of thing.”

  “We hiked through the Yellowstone,” Jay says, this time his voice is softer than before, making me turn and look at him once more.

  “Wow, this time of the year?” I ask.

  He nods, his blue eyes intense on me. I feel like he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t. So I take charge of the conversation. Like I usually do, because I’m desperate for people to stay connected to me, and somehow I figured out how to talk enough for people to stick around.

  “Did you go from the southern border to here? Did you do it all on foot? Take snowshoes with you? Climb any mountains?”

  H chuckles. “It sounds like you hiked through Yellowstone a few times yourself.”

  I want to tell him that the national park, even with all the tourists, has always been a haven for me. I first came here with my nanny, Enna, when I was eight and I remember thinking, this is my home. I’ve been back hundreds of times. Yes, hundreds.

  It’s why I chose the cabin. It’s on the northern boundary of the Yellowstone Park. Not too far away from where rivers never freeze, steam rises from the water all year round, and where my heart feels safe.

  It’s hard to describe, but there is this vibration to Yellowstone National Park. Geysers might blow out steam, there’s puddles that boil, and the smell of sulfur is strong. Still, there’s a sense of tranquility here. Native Americans said this was holy land. And it is. It’s my church.

  I learned to love my camera because of this place. I wanted to capture the feelings I have when I’m here, so I studied everything I could about photography. Only, no matter what, I never capture the peace I gain from each trip. But I’ll keep trying.

  “Yeah,” I admit, looking at the road before me. “I like it here.”

  “We do too,” H says. “It’s—I—it’s the most beautiful—It’s like—”

  “It doesn’t feel like it’s part of the rest of the world, does it?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” both men answer. Then they glance at each other.

  H nods. “That’s it. You figured out what I was trying to say. But, yeah, it doesn’t feel like…like it belongs to anything I’ve known before. Or, actually—”

  “It feels old,” Jay adds.

  Their words inspire me to be even more honest. “The first time I came here, I thought it was something Tolkien would write about. It feels so otherworldly. But then, after exploring it, from the obsidian boulders to the prehistoric trees, to the buffalo that graze along and on the roadways, I thought it’s the way the world should be. So beautiful that we can’t help but stop to notice it.”

  H and Jay are silent.

  Great. Leave it to me to make everyone uncomfortable by saying too much. God, I’ve got to change the subject, got to think of something else to say. The weather’s always such a treat to talk about.

  “That was beautiful,” Jay says quietly.

  “What?” I turn and look at him.

  His brows furrow. “What you said, Dee. Are you a poet?”

  I laugh. “No, but I have had to figure out a few words here and there. I’m a photojournalist. Mainly, I’m all about the photography. But I’ve had to write a few articles too.”
<
br />   “Fuck, that’s cool.” H fists one of his hands over the steering wheel. “Sorry. I forgot how to talk to a lady.”

  I almost snort-laugh I’m so taken aback by the lady remark. What blows my mind is that he’s serious. God, where did these men come from? “That’s okay,” I say. “I swear all the time.”

  “You do not.”

  I turn to look at Jay who’s said that. The lines around his blue eyes are deep. He’s really smiling, I’d guess. He’s teasing me, testing me.

  “I do too.”

  “Nah-ah.”

  H is laughing at Jay and me.

  “Oh, yes, I do, buddy.” My grin is so wide it’s hurting my cheeks. But I don’t care. Or maybe I haven’t smiled in so long and that’s why it hurts. It doesn’t matter. I’m liking our juvenile banter. “I went to an all-girls’ boarding academy and learned many a swearword.”

  “An all-girls’ boarding academy?” H’s voice is low. I can’t help but check on him. His hands are gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.

  “Did you…” Jay’s voice is more reedy than ever. “Did you have to wear those skirts? Plaid, red plaid? And with the white shirts?”

  I laugh.

  H chuckles too. “Sorry, we—we haven’t been around a woman in a long time. We need to behave.” He glances quickly over his shoulder at Jay, a scowl written in his eyebrows.

  See, the problem is, I know how to flirt. I’m good at it. I’m good at getting a man into bed. I’m just horrible at making him stay there. And I can’t help but want to play and flirt with these guys. Even if it is pointless. I mean, it’s not like either one of them would be into me.

  Still, it’s always fun to flirt.

  “Haven’t been around a woman in a long time?” My voice is lowered now too. Husky. Maybe a tad too flirty.

  “We started the hike in December,” Jay says.

  I look at him again, calculating. “That’s almost three months in Yellowstone.”

  “We had to pause and enjoy things.” H smiles. “Yellowstone is how the world should be, after all.”

  I can’t help but giggle again. H is adorable, quoting me. Reaching across, I tug playfully at his black beard. “Is that why these are so long?”

  “Shit, I forgot what I even look like,” Jay says.

  I turn and glance at him, smiling. “The both of you are very handsome.” Then I swivel back in my seat, afraid I don’t sound casual. But on the way, I saw H. His already dark eyes are pure…they’re the onyx that’s threaded throughout the Yellowstone. They sparkle and shine and are so dark they make my nipples contract. He’s staring at me, intensely, and very slowly turns and looks at the road again.

  Did I invade his privacy too much by touching his beard? I was sure not to pull too hard. Jesus, I wish I could fine-tune my censor. I’m either completely honest, revealing way too much, or I’m the wallflower no one pays attention to because I never speak up. I wish I had a middle. I wish I wasn’t so black and white. God, I need to work on that.

  “So are you finished with your hike through Yellowstone?” I ask, only looking forward, trying to switch the subject.

  Both the guys are silent, so I look over my shoulder at Jay.

  He shrugs. “Haven’t decided yet if we wanted to go back south or call it quits.”

  “Then I interrupt your plans,” I say, smiling, trying to tease.

  Jay shakes his head. “Wouldn’t call it that.”

  “Definitely not call you an interruption,” H continues. “We’ve just spent the last three months hiking through Yellowstone. Seeing you was like—” He checks on me from the corner of his eye, and the color of his orbs are so dark I do shudder. I can’t help it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Probably my wacko hormones. But I’m so turned on. I want to roll my hips. I want to lunge on…greedy, spoiled girl that I am, I want to lunge on both of them.

  God, who was I kidding, telling myself I wasn’t attracted to either of them?

  Well, thank goodness, neither men could remotely be attracted to me.

  “Like a dream come true,” Jay says.

  I blink and wonder if I heard him correctly. I want to turn and look at him, but I’m scared. Is he calling me a dream?

  H silently chuckles. “Yeah, we—ah, thought we might be hallucinating when we saw you walking toward your Jeep. You’re wearing that white coat of yours—”

  “Those white boots,” Jay interrupts.

  “And the white hat,” H continues. “And we thought we were looking at a snow angel.”

  I swallow, wondering if maybe I hit my head during the crash. Did these handsome, wild men just compliment me? Me?

  I laugh again, trying to sound casual. “I’m definitely no angel.”

  I’m not sure, but I think H growls. Not from irritation, but a male noise of sexual awareness.

  I might be having a tiny orgasm.

  My body is crazily out of control. Being pregnant means I vomit daily, have lost weight, but gained a lot of size in my breasts and they weren’t small to begin with, and my hormones—yep, that means horniness too—and moods are all over the place. So, in this circumstance, what would be best is if these men wouldn’t be interested in me. At all. Not find me attractive. At all. I mean, these guys, these sweet, kind, sexy-as-hell guys are not the kind of men who would usually be interested in me. Bad boys like me because I think there’s a neon sign—that I can’t see but it’s still there—that reads I give blow jobs because I’m desperate. So, yeah, H and Jay are not the kind of men who have ever been interested in me.

  But in this case, I’m worried I’m wrong.

  4

  “Again, sorry." H has apologized now three times in the small grocery store. He hasn’t said what he’s sorry for. I suspect it’s for making that sexy-as-hell groan. And I doubt he meant to make that sound. I’m fairly certain he doesn’t want to give me the wrong impression, lead me on or anything.

  Which means I was right. H and Jay are not the kind of guys who would be interested in a girl like me.

  We’re looking at apples, and I wave a hand in his direction, feeling my cheeks heat and my throat tighten. “You haven’t been around a woman in an eon. I understand.” Yet again, I’m cas-u-al. I’m as cool as the cucumbers I’m gazing at now. They smell good, the cucumbers, not the—okay, H and Jay smell amazing too. Two weeks ago I wondered if I’d been bitten by a werewolf. I have a super sniffer all of a sudden. My nose can scent everything. From tens of feet away, I can smell body order or herbs that might irritate my sensitive nose. I’m pretty sure patchouli is my kryptonite.

  Grabbing some cucumbers, I bag the green veggies while trying to think of something to say. “So have you thought of what you want for dinner? I hear there’s a Mexican restaurant in town or a bar and grill?”

  “Oh, I forgot.” H hands me my phone that I’d thrown away after hanging up on my mother. “I found this on the floor of your Jeep. You probably need to call your boyfriend back.”

  I laugh, fetching the cell and stuffing it into my back pocket, while absentmindedly answering, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  The guys are quiet, and I look up. They’re shoulder-to-shoulder, a wall of masculinity that makes my inner thighs squeeze. My sex is instantly aroused. Ach, ridiculous. My body is ridiculous.

  “Haven’t got a boyfriend?” H drawls.

  Jay’s nodding. “Good. You want some apples?” He turns and grabs a vibrant red one, showing me the jewel in his rugged hand. It’s the kind of fruit Snow White would have been tempted to bite. Hey, there’s a lot of myths about women being undone by fruit, isn’t there? Why aren’t there any men who are dying of hunger and bite into an apple, only to wind up in a sleep-death where a princess comes along on her white steed and kisses him back to life? What does that fruit, that sleep-death mean about the difference between men and women? That men are above temptation? That when women are tempted, they die?

  I glance at Jay, namely his body. He’s unzipped his co
at, revealing he’s layered some t-shirts together, but I see the cleft at the base of his neck. His beard is long, but not that long, and there’s something about the hollow space there that makes me want to lick it. Lick him. He’s a muscular guy, and I easily fantasize about being under him, holding onto his huge arms as he thrusts into me.

  I wipe at my brow, hoping I’m not sweating visibly. “Yes, please. I’d love to have a few apples.”

  Jay grins at me and starts to bag a bushel of the red fruits.

  “No boyfriend, then.” H has somehow come even closer, looking down at me as I keep picking cucumbers. He’s making me nervous, only because I wonder what he sees when he’s gazing at me. A complete moron who’s blushing at his innocent questions?

  “Was that your husband you were talking to, then?” His voice is low, making me tremble.

  “What?” God, I’m a freak. My voice is wobbly and high.

  “When we first saw you, it looked like you were talking to someone on your phone. A husband?”

  I laugh again, because this question, for whatever reason is killing me. I hate to admit how I’m ashamed of being single and pregnant. Granted, I want this baby so much, and I wouldn’t do anything different. But…I started to have this fantasy of a man wanting me and my baby, wanting to be my husband and to be a father. It’s an idiotic dream. So I try my best not to have it.

  That’s probably why it cuts so much, H’s question.

  And I’m trying so fucking hard to be Casual Dee when I say, “Nope. No husband either.” Then, at last, my brain turns on and thinks of how to deflect this conversation. “Hey, stalk much? I mean I was talking on my phone for a while before I slid my Jeep into that snowdrift.”

  H softly laughs. “Yeah, well, you can’t blame a guy, well the both of us, for staring.”

  “Right.” I narrow my eyes. “Because you haven’t seen a woman in a few months.”

  Then his callous-rough hand is on top of one of mine. I glance down. H is holding me still because I’ve managed to pack almost all of the store’s cucumbers into the bag.