Fly (Wild Love Book 2)

by Red L. Jameson

  See, Jane is kind of perfect. Physically. She’s like a petite Barbie. Thin, athletic—she runs a lot, and she’s a natural light blonde. And her face is gorgeous. I understood why my brother fell in love. She’s flawless. Like our mother. And when I first met Jane, I thought Tim had found a perfect replica of our mother, just younger, sexier, but even more quiet. However, after getting to know Jane, I realized her taciturn ways are because she’s horribly shy. She shakes in large crowds, which is ironic since she’s a professor. But she says it’s different if she has everyone’s attention, and she has a topic that she’s excited to share.

  What’s also got me thinking about Jane is she’s seeing three men. At once. Not only seeing them, one of them admitted he loved her in front of me. I was supposed to go to a Christmas lunch she was having to meet her boyfriends, but I was vomiting and had to cancel. My mother stayed home and “took care of me” by reminding me at every chance that I was a single mother and I’d better get my act together before the baby was born.

  But back to Jane—I can see why three men would fall in love with her. And my brother did too. She’s perfect.

  Me? I’m a loud-mouthed, not-exactly censored woman who has had too many one-night stands and has tree-trunk thighs. Oh, and I’d like to complain about my boobs too, but men like them. I don’t know why. I’ve never liked my breasts. And now that I’m pregnant I feel like I have two giant lumps on my chest that hurt all the time.

  Getting out of the shower, becoming miserable while I’d cleansed for the day, I cringe when I see myself in the full-length mirror. God, who is the torturer who puts giant mirrors like that in a bathroom? I can’t wrap a towel around myself fast enough. But as I cinch the towel closed over my bits, I can’t help but see the girl reflected in that mirror one more time.

  She looks sad. Her hair’s wet and shines black. Her mouth is drooping at the sides. And her freckles are there for all the world to see. My mask is removed. I’m me. I’m no iconic Liz Taylor. I’m a girl who looks scared, ashamed, and worried. And I know I am.

  My hazel green eyes fill. I blink the tears away, but one gets loose and surfs down my clean cheek.

  I don’t want to be the girl who’s ashamed and worried. I want to be the woman who will be somebody’s mom soon. I want to be confident and happy.

  I just have no clue how to do that.

  Well, I came here to hike around Yellowstone Park, because here is where my mind calms and tells me what I need to do. Here is where I’ve always come for answers. Because here is home.

  God, I wish it could be my real home.

  I wonder where this thought came from.

  And I wonder if I can make it a possibility.

  Suddenly, I’m filled with a sparkle of ambition. I could live here. Somewhere around Yellowstone. Maybe even here in Ennis. I could…try to find a nanny to help me so I can go shooting in the park. I could…okay, I need to think more about this.

  Only, I have men who are staying with me and I’d rather not have them find out I need a nanny. Yeah, I should encourage them to go. Or should I tell them I’m pregnant? They’ll be sure to quit calling me prettier than Liz Taylor then.

  * * *

  After my makeup mask is in place and my long hair is dry-ish, I take a huge breath then try to hold my head high as I trudge out of my bedroom. Male voices are in the kitchen. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but before I even spot them I can sense tension.

  Maybe they feel obligated to stay with me, and I should set them free.

  But when I pass a corner and see Jay and H, I forget any kind of logic. Jay’s shaved. He has a face. He has a beautiful face. God, his high cheekbones and square jaw make me want to grab my camera. His skin is paler than I’d first thought, but his eyes are even brighter blue, if possible. And although his hair isn’t quite as crazy as it was yesterday, it’s still got quite a few spikes at the top that make me smile.

  I swallow, trying to remember my name and what I’m doing.

  Then H turns and I’m kind of swooning. He hasn’t shaved, but his hair is freshly washed and is hanging loose and damp around his face. It’s very short on the sides and back, but the top—his hair is almost as long as his jawline. And straight black. Before he catches me staring, he sweeps all of his dark strands back with a casual rake of his hand. I almost moan from the pleasure pouring through my body just from H pushing his hair from his face.

  And then he spots me and instantly smiles. “Good morning.”

  “H-hey.” I sound a little coherent.

  “H bought decaf coffee.” Jay’s scowling, drinking from a steaming mug while he’s leaning against the kitchen counter. “You’re going to have to image the caffeine.”

  “Oh, I like imagining.” Do I sound like a moron?

  H widens his grin. “We haven’t drank any coffee in months, and—”

  “And the one thing you can do,” Jay interrupts, “for a man who hasn’t had a cup of coffee for months is buy him the regular kind.” He turns to me again, after he’s grabbed another mug and filled it with the kind of coffee my gynecologist approved with a happy nod of her head.

  He opens the refrigerator, then asks, “You take yours with milk? We don’t have creamer.” He glares at H again.

  I smile. “I’m good with milk.”

  “You like sugar too? Because I don’t think we have any.” Another frown at H.

  H is shaking his head. “Hey, you try grabbing as many things as I did in the time I had.”

  “No one was timing you.” Jay hands me the coffee, and I take it as I watch them.

  Their banter sounds light, teasing. But there’s some kind of stress that’s easy to pick up on. Their body language is different from yesterday. Their shoulders are more squared, their jawlines, those beautiful lines, more tense.

  What the heck is going on?

  H shrugs. “I wasn’t going to make you and Dee wait in the parking lot all fucking day.”

  There. The swearword says it all. H is tense. Defensive. Maybe even angry.

  The men look at each other, eyes slightly narrowed.

  “I think I saw honey in a cabinet, Dee,” H says, glancing away from his friend. “In case you like something sweet in your coffee.”

  “This is great.” I’m a tad more enthusiastic than I need to be.

  Thanks to my mother, I’m used to conflict if it’s aimed at me. Conflict that’s outside of me, I’m not great with. Soon I’ll become overly talkative to combat whatever it is that’s going on between Jay and H. It’s my only weapon to fight tension of any kind—becoming a Chatty Cathy.

  “Once I drank coffee—gosh, I can’t remember where now.” And here I go. “Maybe Egypt—and had it with evaporated milk. That was good. In Greece, I had it with condensed milk. I really like it with condensed milk. You ever had it that way? It’s surprisingly good. I don’t know why I’ve never gotten used to it black. I should. I really should.”

  H and Jay are staring at me.

  God, I am a moron.

  H sips in a breath. “Okay, now that we’ve managed to make Dee feel completely ill at ease with us, that’s a sign we should go.”

  Jay’s beautiful and bare jaw kicks. What is it with men’s jawlines that has me suddenly wonder if I have any will power? I mean, I was thinking of ways to get rid of the guys. But not now. Not while I’m looking at them.

  “Sorry,” Jay mutters not looking at anyone. “Just woke up on the wrong side of the couch.”

  “You know there’s a lot of bedrooms. Maybe tonight you should pick one.” Yep, that was me saying that. And I keep going. “Sleep on a real bed is awesome. I slept like a—” like I’m carrying a baby. I have no idea how to finish my cut off thoughts because suddenly I remember why I wanted the guys to leave. I’m pregnant. And alone.

  God, I don’t want to be alone.

  Jay blinks at me. “You’d want us to stay with you again?”

  “That’s real nice of you, Dee,” H says quickly, walking closer
to me. “But we’ve bothered you enough, I’m sure.”

  “You’re no bother.” Crap, I keep inviting them to stay. What the hell is wrong with me?

  H’s jaw is also set. The tendons in his neck are standing out slightly, and there’s a vein running along one of those tendons that catches my eye. I want to reach up on my toes and lick along his throat right on that vein. I want my hands on him. I want my hands on Jay, for that matter.

  H stops abruptly and crosses his arms. He’s looking down at me, and all I can do is remember how much I laughed with him last night. He’s kind of silly when he lets his guard down. And I like that so much.

  He keeps gazing at me, as if trying to read my mind. There are too many emotions and thoughts swirling in his dark depths to make me think I can read his. However, I can’t help but hope to god he truly can’t see what I’m thinking, which is that I’d like him naked. And his friend too.

  Spoiled girl.

  Rich spoiled girl. Always wanting everything.

  I slightly cringe, hearing those words in my mother’s voice. Thinking back, I can’t remember a time when she didn’t whisper that to me. Stop acting so spoiled, Deidra Alexandra. It’s not until recently that I realized my mother used that word as a catch-all. I didn’t want to eat pate at a dinner party. I didn’t want to wear an uncomfortable dress. I wanted my mommy to hold me when I had a fever. Spoiled girl, my mother would hiss, turning away from me with a severe shake of her head.

  I’ve got to do something to get away from these thoughts. Need to go on a walk.

  H spins away suddenly, looking out the giant picture window of the kitchen. It’s mid-morning, and the snow is glistening silver and gold. The sun is playing with the clouds, and I can’t wait to see what’s in Yellowstone today.

  “You guys want to go with me to the park?” My voice is a tad shaky. “Hike around a little?”

  “You sure you’re feeling up to it?” Jay asks.

  “I really don’t want to be a bother,” H says to the window.

  “Yeah, I feel good right now.”

  Before I can say more, Jay adds, “But you need to eat first before the hike.”

  I roll my eyes. “Okay, Mom.”

  Somehow, Jay smiles, which is what I wanted. Now, how to get one of those from H?

  “You’re not a bother.” I shake my head, even though H isn’t looking at me. “Not at all. In fact, you guys are helping me, so I should repay you—”

  “No.” H turns around again. Now I know he is angry. Everything about the man is tense, from the way he’s narrowed his eyes, to the lines within his body. And his voice is cold, making me want to back away from him. But he continues. “No, we need to repay you for—”

  “No, you don’t.” Wow, I said that fast.

  “Yes,” H is growling now. “I do.”

  “Then let me pay you for the groceries.”

  H shakes his head like I just asked him to shoot a kitten. “No way. You let us stay here. Us. Strangers. You shouldn’t have—”

  “I know what I shouldn’t have done,” I’m yelling now too. I’m loud. Jesus, am I loud. And I can’t seem to stop myself. Granted, I get angry. Who doesn’t? But right now, I don’t want to turn it on H. I like him. But I just can’t seem to control my mouth. “I’m very aware of how much I fuck up all the fucking time.” That was aimed at my mother, not the gorgeous man standing in front of me in a gray henley shirt and jeans that hug his narrow hips and make me wish I knew what was under his clothes.

  H blinks. He looks shocked. Not angry. And I feel like complete shit, all my anger vanished.

  “She does swear.”

  I look at Jay who said that nonchalantly and is innocently sipping his black brew.

  Trying to cover a smile, I say, “I do fucking swear. I told you the fuck I do.”

  “Fuckity fuck, she swears a lot.” Jay’s now smiling at me.

  “Fuckity?” I ask.

  From my periphery I catch H smiling. It’s a reluctant smile, but I’ll take it.

  Taking a step closer to him, I say, “I’m so sorry, H. I—”

  He’s shaking his head. “No, it was me—”

  “Actually,” Jay says, “I’m pretty sure I was the asshole who started it all. Jesus, I was a mean bastard to H before you popped your pretty head out, honey. Sorry to everyone.”

  I glance at him and smile. “Fuckity.”

  H nods. “Fuckity.”

  “Agreed.” Jay nods too. “So, let’s grab a giant breakfast and check out the park.”

  “You don’t mind? You don’t have somewhere else to go?” I ask, already skipping around, so happy the guys are still with me. “And besides, you were in that park for a few months.”

  Jay shrugs. “Nowhere else to go, and we haven’t seen the park with you.”

  H’s smile grows. “Yep, we need to see it with you.”

  I squeal and race away. “I’ll take just a few seconds to grab my cameras.”

  “Cameras?” H asks. “As in more than one is needed today?”

  I shake my head at him as I walk backward toward my room and make a scoffing laugh. “Of course, silly. Look at that sun. It’s in and out of clouds, which will be perfect for my Canon, and I have to take my old Pentax everywhere.”

  “She has to take her Pentax everywhere,” Jay repeats and smiles at H.

  “Silly me.” H is genuinely smiling at his friend and I feel like everything is right in the world again. “What was I thinking? Will two be enough, sweetheart?”

  Before I enter my bedroom, it hits me that Jay keeps calling me honey and H is now calling me sweetheart. Of course, they’re teasing.

  I have to swallow, nonetheless, to keep playing at this light-hearted game of ours. “You’re right. I’ll bring the Nikon too.” I’m relieved to jump into my room, because I’m certain I’m blushing down to my toes.

  But what makes my heart start to thrash inside my chest and rattle my skull is when I hear Jay say, “That’s our girl.”

  I could melt inside those words, those words put together—our girl.

  It’s so wrong, on so many levels, to take that literally. Jay is just joking around.

  But for half a second, I indulge and take those words literally. What would it be like to have two men like H and Jay want me? Desire me? Love me?

  God, I’m pathetic, always thinking of love.

  I really need to stop that.

  After a few more seconds, I promise myself, I will stop. Just a minute or two more.

  10

  After eating a truly giant breakfast at Ennis’s one main diner, I somehow sneak past both men to pay for it, making them frown at me, to which I laugh and roll my eyes. Then we set out for Yellowstone National Park. From town, it’s a little more than an hour’s drive. The roads aren’t too slick. And they are all the better as we near the park.

  Being raised in a place like Wyoming means that driving for more than an hour to get anywhere, and expecting a lot more driving when actually at my destination, is completely normal.

  On the drive I learned that Jay is from Iowa, although he isn’t thinking of going back. And H is originally from California. What doesn’t surprise me is that they served together. However, what does floor me is that H was an officer, while Jay was an NCO. Somehow, and a little secretly, they became friends. At first they respected each other, then depended on each other, and that’s how they got to know one another, slowly becoming the best of friends and both getting discharged within months of each other.

  We talked the whole way to Yellowstone, and I abso-freaking-lutely loved it.

  At the west entrance of the park, we quieted for the sacred tall trees and the white blanket surrounding the revered land. God, I love Yellowstone Park. I know it’s a touristy place. And there are a lot of cars and campers on the roads. But there’s something about the place that makes me feel how small I am in this vast universe. At the same time I feel a vibrational connection to everyone. And I don’t mean everyone at the
park. I mean everyone on earth. It’s magic here.

  “Where to, famous photographer?” H asks, making me smile.

  They’d Googled me while I’d used the restroom at the diner and found out I’d been a nominee for the Pulitzer. I haven’t since then, been a nominee. But I’m hoping to take another shot at that coveted prize.

  During the ride, H and Jay talked to me as if they’d never known a person more accomplished. It was terrible. And wonderful. After a lifetime of feeling like I’d never measure up, to feel the mushy, warm sensation of two people being amazed by something I’d done…well, it was terrible-wonderful, making my heart stop and start in fits.

  “Well, let’s do the touristy things today,” I say. “Let’s see Old Faithful and the Visitor Center. Oh, but first let’s stop at the Fountain Paint Pots.”

  H navigates us with ease, checking the GPS only a of couple times. I never worry he’ll slip off the road. Actually, I’m not too sure how he’s taken the position of captain of the ship, because it is my Jeep.

  At the Fountain Paint Pots, we stop, getting out of the car, stretching. Most of the tourists come to Yellowstone during the summer months, which is understandable. It’s lush and green and purple and yellow with its grasses and wildflowers. But in the winter is when the wonder happens.

  There’s a bison herd that’s settled around the jade-green pool that morphs into ochre-orange here and there and bubbles and pops with volcanic ash. Even though the sun is out, it’s cold. There’s slivers of ice crystals hanging in the air, on the trees, on the ground. Everything glows with silvers and golds and pinks and blues. Everything sparkles. This is my bling. I’ve never liked diamonds or jewelry—reminds me too much of my mother. But this—this glory around me is my idea of decked out. This is better than any Hollywood glam queen could wear on Oscar night. This is beauty itself.

  “Look at them.” Jay points at the herd of bison. A giant male stands while chewing his cud. His lower half is sprinkled in white. His beard has long strands of icicles, making him look ornamental, priestly. He is the reverend in my church. His infinite knowledge is ever-present in his shiny black eyes.