Wilde Thing

by Jannine Gallant

  She turned to stare. “You haven’t eaten?”

  “Neither have you.”

  “Just the idea makes me nauseous. For heaven’s sake, stop and get some breakfast.”

  “I don’t want fast food. I can wait until we get home so you can lie on the couch while I whip up some pancakes. Do you have all the ingredients or should we go to my place?”

  “I have everything, and there’s Winnie to consider.”

  “She totally freaked out when you fell and is probably waiting anxiously to see you. We’ll go to your cabin.” He glanced over. “By the way, I called Eden and told her what happened. When my sister realized I’d spent the night with you, she basically threatened to kill me if I hurt you in any way. Okay, she was a little more diplomatic than that, but not much.”

  Hannah smiled. “Sounds like Eden.”

  “She wants you to call her.” He scowled. “Little Miss Judgmental should learn to mind her own business. Uh, speaking of calling…don’t you want to tell your mother you wound up in the hospital?”

  A long sigh fogged the window as tension filled her. “Not really, but I have to let her know about Monica.” She took her cell out of her purse. “I might as well get it over with so I don’t have to dread making the call any longer than necessary.”

  He glanced her way before returning his attention to the road. “Was that woman really as awful as the doc made her out to be?”

  “She pretty much was. She went from a total newbie working in real estate back when she and my mother first met to becoming a bigwig for some venture capitalist firm. Her decisions ruined quite a few people’s lives. And from what I’ve heard, she could be nasty when she turned people down.” Hannah clenched her fist in her lap. “Until the other day, I hadn’t seen her in years, but she was around the house a lot when I was young.”

  “Why did the doc marry her if she was such a bitch?”

  “Monica oozed sex appeal. He wouldn’t be the first man to think with his penis.”

  Tripp snorted out a laugh. “Way to tell it like it is. Do you always say exactly what’s on your mind?”

  “Most of the time.”

  “On that note, why don’t you bite the bullet and call your mother.”

  “Fine.” She tapped a couple of buttons then leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes when her mother answered. “Hi, Mom. I’m afraid I have some bad news…”

  * * * *

  Tripp’s grip on the wheel tightened as the conversation progressed. More like deteriorated. From Hannah’s end, he’d swear Vivian was blaming her for—if not Monica’s actual death—somehow failing to anticipate the problem. Several minutes in, she fished a crinkled bag of M&M’s out of the bottom of her purse, ripped it open and ate them one after the other. By the time she hung up, he was ready to throttle her mother.

  “I see why you don’t call Vivian often. Are you sure Monica was the bitch?”

  Hannah rubbed her temples and sighed. “They have…had…a lot in common.”

  “How the hell did you turn out so normal?”

  “Funny, Monica said that to me the last time I saw her.” She bit her lip. “I have a few issues. Don’t pity me, Tripp.”

  “Oh, I don’t. I admire your strength and fortitude. Does your head still ache?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then just lean back and relax.” He turned the radio on low. “We don’t have to talk.”

  “Perfect.” She closed her eyes again. Minutes later, her breathing evened out in sleep.

  Tripp brooded the rest of the way back to her cabin. From the frozen-over steps to discovering the dead woman had been someone Hannah knew, the day had just been…weird. Since it couldn’t get much worse, he could only hope for improvement. When he pulled into her driveway, Hannah woke and blinked several times.

  She rolled her head on the seatback then winced. “I guess I fell asleep.”

  He nodded. “Sit still. I’ll come around to help you out.”

  “I’m not an invalid.”

  “I’m still going to help you. Geez, give yourself a break. You sure don’t want to fall again.”

  “True.”

  He got out and hustled around the truck then tucked his arm around her to help her down. “Just take it slow. Damn, maybe I should go inside and get a rug or something to put down over those stairs.” He paused at the foot of the steps. “Hey, the ice melted.”

  She nodded. “Looks like it. Wow, it doesn’t feel warm enough to have melted the ice completely. The temp can’t be much above freezing even though the sun is shining.”

  “I guess I was wrong.” He climbed beside her to the porch.

  Hannah glanced up. “About what?”

  “Thinking this day couldn’t get any weirder. Neither one of us imagined that damned ice.”

  She waited while he unlocked the door and opened it. “No, we definitely didn’t.”

  Winnie burst through to greet them with enthusiastic bounces and barks. Hannah bent to pet her before she entered the house. “I’m okay, girl. Sorry to give you a scare.”

  “Her? What about me?”

  “Both of you.” She let out a breath. “I guess I’m still a little shaky. Go cook whatever you want for breakfast. I intend to take another pain pill and hang out on the couch.”

  When she dropped down onto the cushion, he bent to pull off her boots then went into the bedroom to get a blanket to tuck around her. “Do you want a pancake? You should take those pills with food.”

  “I guess so. Maybe eating something will give me a little strength. I’m wiped out.”

  “You’ve been through a trauma.” Planting a hand on either side of her head, he leaned down to kiss her. “You’ll bounce back soon enough.”

  “I hope so.”

  He looked her straight in the eyes. “I know so.”

  * * * *

  Hannah stood at the counter in the post office, sorting through a stack of mail. Bills went in one pile, while she tossed junk in the blue recycle bin. A handwritten envelope caught her eye, and one brow rose. No one sent letters anymore. When she glanced at the return address, a smile spread. A formal wedding invitation from Tripp’s older brothers. Griff’s and Sawyer’s brides-to-be were planning a joint wedding in June. Tripp was slated to be the best man, and Eden would be the maid of honor.

  Envy nipped at Hannah’s heart. Those two lucky brides had each found the love of her life. Their futures were mapped out with partners who would be by their sides through the best and worst of times. She sure wouldn’t mind having that kind of loving commitment to look forward to.

  Silly pipe dream. Hannah dropped a couple of catalogues in the bin and stared through the window at a few flakes of snow blowing through the parking lot. Sure, she and Tripp were getting along fine right now, and he had really stepped up when she was hurt, but… A sigh slipped out. She couldn’t help thinking at some point there would definitely be a but. Tripp wasn’t as stable as his brothers. All three of the Wilde boys lived for excitement, but Tripp stood a little closer to the edge than the other two. She wasn’t sure she could deal with that type of anxiety for the next fifty or sixty years. Not that he’d asked her to…

  “Frank, how’s it going? I heard you were one of the patrolmen who found that bitch Monica Wright’s body. I can’t freaking believe the cops questioned me about her.”

  The loud voice jarred Hannah out of her thoughts. Turning away from the counter, she glanced toward two men who stood next to the rows of mailboxes. The heavier one who’d spoken looked familiar… Recognition clicked. The guy had been complaining about Monica the evening she and Tripp stopped for burgers at the Bridgetender. The day Monica had fallen off the chairlift.

  The other man, Frank, opened his box and pulled out a stack of mail. “How’d you hear about that, Harvey? I thought the cops were keeping their investigation quiet.”

  The windbag snorted. “I know people. Anyway, the damn sheriff tracked me
down for questioning. Apparently someone told him they’d seen me arguing with Monica a few days before she wound up dead.”

  Frank shut the mailbox and jerked out his key. His gaze locked on Hannah just before she turned away. “Did you?”

  “What, argue with her? Hell, yes. It still pisses me off she sold the house I wanted up in Alpine Meadows out from under me, and that was fifteen years ago. When I saw her strolling down the sidewalk in town, I told her to slink back to whatever rock she’d crawled under when she left Tahoe.”

  “From what I know of Monica Wright, I can imagine her response.”

  “She told me to go to hell. I guess someone overheard. Anyway, I have a solid alibi for the timeframe when she died, so the cops left me alone after that.”

  “Good to know you aren’t a suspect. I’m sure they have plenty of other contenders to choose from.”

  “Hell, you had more reason to hate her than I did.” Harvey brushed by Hannah on his way to the exit. “After refusing you funding for the bed and breakfast—”

  The loudmouth’s voice cut off as the door to the parking lot slapped shut behind Frank. Hannah let out a breath. She’d never cared much for Monica, but the vitriol in the obnoxious man’s tone shook her. If the police were questioning potential suspects, obviously someone had despised—or feared—the woman enough to want her dead. A shudder ran through her. When her cell rang, she jumped but was relieved to turn her thoughts elsewhere.

  After scooping up the small stack of bills and the wedding invitation, she glanced at her phone before answering. “Hey, Eden.”

  “Hi, Hannah. Tripp tells me—or rather he told Mom and she told me since my brother hasn’t returned my calls—that you’re both headed to Wyoming tomorrow. I hope you’ll make a side trip to the ranch. It’s only a few hours’ drive from Jackson Hole. I’d love to see you.”

  Hannah smiled at the mixture of enthusiasm and irritation in her friend’s voice. She could only assume the irritation was directed at her brother. “I don’t know how tight Tripp’s schedule will be. I guess it’ll depend on how long the filming takes. Afterward, we go to Colorado for the Big Air Championship.”

  “You’re going with him?”

  She nudged open the door out of the post office with one hip and hurried to her car. “I’m still working on his shoulder. I want it as strong as possible since he insists on skiing even though I recommended giving his injury more time to recover completely.”

  Unlocking the door, she juggled her purse, the cell and her mail to slip onto the seat. A gust of wind rocked the car as she slammed the door shut.

  “He’s not big on listening to advice, but I’m not going to rehash my concerns since you’re well aware of how I feel. I love my brother dearly, but he’s left a string of brokenhearted women across several continents. I don’t want you to become his next victim. Now I’ll shut up.”

  Hannah rolled her eyes. “No wonder he hasn’t returned your calls.”

  “Hey, I called him to apologize for butting into his business. You’d think he’d want to listen to that.”

  “I’ll mention it to him when I see him tomorrow. Right now I have to go home to pack.”

  “You’re not, uh…”

  “Good God, Eden, spit it out. No, we aren’t shacking up together. Yes, we’re sleeping together, but not every night. We each have a life of our own. While they intersect frequently, I don’t cling to Tripp every minute of the day.”

  “Sorry.” Her voice rose. “Really, really sorry. This is just weird for me, knowing my best friend and my brother are… God, I can’t even say it.”

  “Doing the wild thing?”

  A snort of laughter echoed through the phone. “You’re doing the Wilde Thing, literally. I may be scarred for life just saying that.” She huffed out a breath. “Fine, I’ll let you go, but please try to talk my brother into a trip to the ranch. Mom and Dad and Grandpa would be thrilled to see both of you. This isn’t just about me.”

  “I’d like that, too. I’ll talk to Tripp.”

  “Good.” Her friend sighed. “I’d tell you to be smart about this, but you’re the most intelligent person I’ve ever met. I trust you know what you’re doing. Bye, Hannah.”

  “Bye.” Hannah dropped her cell in her purse then leaned back against the seat, mindful of the tender spot on her head.

  Though she appreciated her best friend’s vote of confidence, she could only hope Eden was right.

  Chapter 13

  Hannah pushed her tote bag under the seat in front of her then straightened in the tight quarters of the plane to fasten her seatbelt. When a man built like a steroid-crazed weightlifter paused beside the empty aisle seat next to her to lift his carry-on bag into the overhead compartment, she let out a sigh. Apparently she was going to be squashed between Tripp and this guy with the bulging muscles, who would surely take up his seat and half of hers, all the way to Salt Lake City where they would change planes to fly to Jackson, Wyoming.

  “Dude, I wondered if you would make the flight.” Tripp reached across her to smack the man on the arm as he dropped onto the seat. “About time you showed up.”

  “I got stuck in an accident on the freeway driving down to Reno. Lucky you to have missed the traffic jam.”

  “Since it was snowing, Hannah wanted to leave early. Smart move, I guess.” Tripp leaned back against the tiny window. “Hannah Ryder, meet my trainer, Marco Gandolfi. He’s here to whip me back into shape before the Big Air Championship.”

  Marco smiled, white teeth contrasting with his dark complexion. Hooded brown eyes regarded her from beneath unruly black hair. “A daunting task since he hasn’t done squat in a month. We can collaborate to make sure my work-out schedule meshes with your PT program for his injury.”

  A man who doesn’t think his agenda is more important than mine. Amazing.

  Hannah liked him already. She smiled back. “Sounds like a plan.” She glanced over at Tripp. “You were right.”

  He settled into his corner as the plane backed away from the terminal. “I usually am. About what in particular this time?”

  She grinned. “You mentioned once that your trainer looks like Rocky Balboa. I definitely see the resemblance.”

  “I get that a lot.” Marco claimed the armrest between them. “My go-to Halloween costume is always a pair of boxing trunks and a little fake blood.”

  Hannah scrunched, trying to make herself smaller. Not an easy feat. “Might as well capitalize on your looks.”

  “You would think, right? Yet he doesn’t when women are into the idea of a Stallone lookalike.” Tripp snorted. “Marco has morals.”

  “Someone has to have them since—” He broke off, and his cheeks darkened as he glanced at Hannah. “Not that Tripp…I mean…I heard you two were…”

  She patted his arm even though the barb stung a little. “I’ve known Tripp for years. You don’t have to try to sugarcoat his reputation for me.”

  “Okay…” He glanced away then bent to pull out the daypack he’d pushed under the seat. He straightened with a battered paperback. “I think I’ll read for a while. Don’t mind me.”

  “We won’t.” Tripp reached over to take her hand as the plane taxied down the runway. He squeezed her fingers. “Relax. You’re all tense.”

  “I’m not a huge fan of flying.” As the plane surged upward into the cloudy afternoon sky and bumped through turbulence, she gripped hard. “Birds have wings. There’s a reason we don’t.”

  “Because we’re smart enough to build aircraft that will take us to the moon and back. A short flight to Wyoming is nothing.” A few minutes later, he gave her a reassuring smile. “See, we’re up above the cloud layer, and all is good.”

  “One can only hope.” She let out a sigh.

  Tripp leaned forward. “If you don’t mind me interrupting your poetry…”

  Hannah frowned. “Huh?”

  “Not you. Marco. He reads poetry.”

&nbs
p; His trainer looked up and shrugged. “I’m not going to apologize because I’m capable of comprehending something other than sports magazines.”

  “Nor should you.” Tripp grinned. “What have you been doing for the past month during your unexpected vacation?”

  “Working. I set up a training clinic for some of the local junior athletes. A few of those kids are really good. You’d better watch out, or they’ll kick your ass on the circuit in a few years.”

  “It could happen. I’m not getting any younger.”

  Hannah glanced at the book lying open on Marco’s lap. Poe. The man obviously had a brain to go with his brawn. “‘The Raven’ is my favorite. But then, it’s probably everyone’s favorite.”

  “Not mine. I prefer ‘Annabel Lee.’”

  Tripp closed his eyes. “Wake me up when we land.”

  After an entertaining conversation revolving around nineteenth-century poets that turned into a heated debate over the merits of Emily Dickinson, Hannah finally admitted Marco was far better versed on the topic than she was. “Next time we discuss Shakespeare. I definitely know my way around his sonnets.”

  He grinned. “Deal, but you might want to study up…just saying.”

  Hannah rolled her eyes. “Terrific.” When Marco went back to his book, she turned her attention to her slumbering seat companion.

  “Are you finished showing off how smart you are?”

  Apparently not asleep.

  Tripp opened his eyes slowly and blinked those ridiculous lashes, setting her heart to fluttering.

  She drew in a breath then let it out in a rush. “Yes. Didn’t you ever take an English class in college?”

  “I think they forced one or two down my throat, but the subject matter didn’t stick. I majored in business. I have a head for numbers.”

  “Oh yeah? I would have guessed PE.”

  He gave a headshake. “I wanted enough knowledge to manage my own assets and invest on my own, and I needed a backup plan. Too many athletes blow through the money they make then get injured and wind up broke. I’m not going to be able to ski forever. At least not competitively.”