Of Winged Creatures & Nesting Grounds: (A Quirky, Sexy, Dirty Doctor Romance)

by A. Wilding Wells

  “You’re silly and really sweet.” I grab her wrist to feel her pulse racing, the perfect match to mine.

  “You’re sexy,” she mouths.

  I love her quiet. It’s naked. Raw and genuine. Not a come-on or any sort of typical bar banter I would expect from such a gorgeous creature. And the new universe I’ve entered suddenly becomes an envelope of lust mixed with want.

  “You’re going to get yourself beautifully fucked if you keep this up,” I say. “And I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

  She takes a step backward into an alcove as she hiccups. I take one forward. Then two more, following her as she backs farther away. Christ, to press against her. She makes the idea of dry-humping sound erotic. She makes the idea of discovering who she is sound like an expedition into an undiscovered world. She’s exactly what I need: a distraction with the possibility of more. My ideal woman. Confident, but working on herself, though I sense a layer of angst. Inadvertently sexy, and quirky with a side of sarcasm, not to mention whimsy.

  “I’ve already been fucked. Fucked over.” She wobbles then braces her arm on the wall.

  “Someone hurt you?”

  “Yeah, big time…wrecked me. A while back. Today sort of dredged it up. But I’ll be fine. Sorry. I can really ramble. Plus, I’m a little more than tipsy right now, and a chatterbox. I should stop talking, but”—she glances down—“my bird…he was all I had left.”

  I clutch a hand to my heart, the other under her chin. I need to see her. Those deep, wet, fairytale-looking eyes. Jesus.

  “You want to talk more?” I ask.

  “I should go. I swear I’m not normally so…” She fidgets with the zipper on her jacket.

  “Beautifully puzzling?” I say. Holy vibe. I don’t get these kinds of vibes from women. The skin-buzzing, heart-swelling kind. I get the sexy let’s-mess-around-and-end-it-there vibes. The vibes I keep seeking to help me forget Sela. The soulless kind, which are getting me nowhere, considering what I want in life.

  Her eyes fill with tears, and my heart liquefies. “Can I drive you home?” I ask.

  “No, I’ll get an Uber,” she says as she wipes her hand under her nose, while my fingertips catch her tears. Rose-petal soft skin. “But thanks for listening. It was sweet of you. Unexpected.”

  Happy looks past me then bends to reach for her purse. When she straightens her hand is pressed to her mouth.

  “Are you going to be sick?”

  She shakes her head, color deepening in her cheeks. “No. No, I’m fine. False alarm.”

  “Can I at least walk you out?”

  “No, really, I’m, uh. I’ve gotta go.” She exhales sharply. “I don’t do this…”

  “This?” I grab the crook of her arm when she pushes past me.

  “Yeah, this. I’m not that girl.”

  “What kind of girl are you?”

  “I already told you,” she says over her shoulder as she walks away. “Not your kind.”

  Chapter 5

  It’s okay to be okay

  Happy

  His smiles—god, they come easily to him. Every last one fills his face with some sort of otherworldly joy and intrigue. His eyes, his lips, his cheekbones, and his soul merrily join in. He means his smiles, and not everyone does. But, with him, they seem to come from his core. And, while those smiles warm me, lure me in, they scare me. Those kind of smiles coming from that kind of man don’t fit in my plan. He cannot be in my plan. Unless I can bend just for him. Maybe I ought to go back to him, and tell him he’s exactly my type. Shit, no. No. Handsome and sweet do not equal promises. I know better.

  A mob of twenty or so guys swarms the door and try to convince the bouncer to let them in as I try to leave. Several catcalls and one ass-cupping later, I slip through the drunk testosterone pack. After edging my way down the front of the building, I slump onto a bench and set my overflowing purse next to me. With my car request in, I snug my jacket closed and fold my arms over my chest, hoping the horn-dogs staggering my way don’t notice me.

  “Hey, kitten,” one of them says as he crashes onto the bench.

  Uneasiness stirs in my stomach, so I shoot up. While I’m swerving past three guys, one of them shoves me down onto another guy’s lap. Forceful arms wrap around me.

  “Let me go, you idiot!” I blurt out, thrusting my elbow against him.

  “Feisty little bitch,” he says, a bitter note in his tone as he covers my mouth with his foul-smelling hand.

  “Get your fucking hands off her!” Hunt storms toward us.

  The drunkards scramble, swearing and laughing. They sprint away like a herd of bucks while I hurry to Hunt.

  “You okay?” He hugs me.

  I grab fistfuls of his jacket as my body shakes. “Yeah. They just scared the hell out of me.”

  “That’s it. I’m taking you on an adventure, we’re going to turn this into a happy night.”

  “I’m going home.”

  “You’re not going home. I saw the words off-road in your journal. So let’s.”

  I back up then stagger to the curb, where a car screeches to a stop.

  “Holly Go Lightly?” the driver asks, his New York accent barbed.

  “Come on. You only live once, let’s do something crazy.”

  “I’m good,” I say before sucking air through clenched teeth.

  As I pull the door open, my stomach tightens and vomit spews across the curb.

  “I ain’t takin’ no puker!” the driver yells. Wheels screech as he races away.

  “Now, will you accept my offer?” Hunt asks. “Fly with me, little bluebird.” Clearly, the guy is not going to make any moves; who wants to kiss a puker?

  Despite being intoxicated, I agree. He’s right, off-roading is part of my plan, no better time to start than now.

  “Okay, Mr. Goodtime, let’s go on a crazy adventure!”

  We cross the street and walk through a dimly lit, tiny parking lot, his arm gripping me like he’ll never let me go. “Little bluebird.” He’s already nicknamed me.

  “Here we are.” He unlocks the passenger’s side door of a vintage, red pickup and opens it for me.

  “Is this where you’re hiding your plaid shirt and tattoos?”

  We get in, and I immediately scope his stuff out while inhaling the pungent smell. Puppy feet and candy?

  “Am I that off trend?” He quirks an eyebrow.

  I spy a six-pack of old-fashioned soda bottles alongside cans of spray paint, running shoes, and cowboy boots. “You’re not off trend—you’re from another planet.” I reach for a bottle. “Cherry pop!”

  He cracks up. “Pop?”

  “Oh, whatever. Soda! I’ve always called it pop. May I have one?” I ask as we drive out of the lot.

  “Of course.” He grins, looking so pleased by my giddiness that I nearly lean over and kiss him. “Opener’s in the glove.”

  I jiggle the handle of the glovebox, and when it opens, a half-eaten sleeve of crackers lands on my feet. As I fish around for the opener, I find two tins of smoked oysters and a bunch of dog bones on top of it. I haul all of it to my lap for inspection.

  “You have officially made my night. Canned oysters and saltines?”

  “Bust into them if you want,” he says as we turn down a sketchy, poorly lit street.

  “Any other time, I might. This is my favorite snack next to breakfast before bed.” I hiccup. Then I open my pop and shove his stuff back in the glove compartment.

  “Maybe a couple of saltines would be good,” he offers.

  “Nah. I’m enjoying my buzz waaaay too much.”

  Hunt shoves a cassette tape in. “You know this?”

  I listen for five seconds, shaking my head, a goofy smile plastered on my face that he’s playing opera on a cassette in his vintage pickup.

  “Impressive,” I say. “Porgy and Bess. This is the best song from the whole opera. My favorite, anyway. ‘Summertime’ was my parents’ song.”

  We both sing the song until i
t ends.

  “Aren’t you going to ask where I’m taking you?”

  “Nope. I’m being wild and free. Plus, if you were going to chop me into little pieces, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have put on ‘Summertime.’ Though you do keep staring at me like you might devour me.”

  “I never said I didn’t want to.”

  I inhale a sharp breath and pin my knees together. Holy shit.

  We pull in front of a marina that is lit up like a football field. Chain link fencing surrounds it, with a row of barbed wire topping.

  “You know how I was saying I’m not your type?” I ask as he hands me a blanket.

  We hop out of the truck, and I follow him, congratulating myself on going so very off plan.

  “Am I creeping you out?” he says as he climbs the fence, maneuvering the barbed wire like a cat, leaving his jacket on the wire, I’m assuming for me.

  “No, kind of the opposite. We’re bum rushing a boat yard and marina? I like your kind of crazy. This trumps any date I’ve ever been on. Not that this is a date. I don’t date.”

  “I thought you might like this,” he says as I toss the blanket over the fence.

  “Ginger Rogers, look at you go. Scaling the fence in heels?”

  “Summer camp in Michigan. I can climb anything.” Might even climb him if he keeps charming the fuck out of me.

  “Easy over the wire. It’s sharp.”

  “Can you, um, you know.” I twirl my finger.

  He turns around. “I wouldn’t look up your skirt.”

  “Liar. You’re a guy. Of course you would. All guys have a few things in common. One, they’re dogs. Two, they live in a vocabulary vacuum. Seventy-five percent of what they say is some stolen movie line. The other twenty-five is basically their dicks talking.”

  “Ouch. What’s the other thing? You said a few.”

  I swing my legs over the fence, after warily placing my hands on the wire.

  “That was a few. Dogs. Movie talk. Dick talk. You’re very tomato tomahto. Into semantics and puzzles. Maybe we could be friends.”

  “Maybe we could be more.”

  I look down at him and catch his gaze riding up my legs. A smirk on his face as he ogles me over his shoulder.

  “Fuck, ouch!” I yelp as a barb snags my finger. I jump, twist my ankle, then land on my ass.

  Hunt kneels beside me. “You okay?”

  “Dead bird. Bloody finger. Twisted ankle. Hot guy. I’m peachy.”

  “Let me see.”

  I hold my finger out.

  “When was your last tetanus shot?” He sticks my bloody finger in his mouth and sucks it.

  “Very vampire of you, and a little bit of a turn on.”

  He moves his tongue over my cut. Okay, more than a turn on. His lips. Oh fuck, soft and beautiful. And his eyes are saying things I should turn away from.

  I slip my finger from his lips. “Probably not good for my cut though.”

  “It’s fine for your cut. Saliva-treated wounds heal faster.”

  “Okay, Doc. I’ll be sure to have you on speed dial next time I’m on a trivia game show and they allow for a lifeline.”

  “Can you walk?” He hoists me to my feet, and I wiggle my ankle in circles then test it out by taking a few steps.

  “Yeah, but should we really be doing this? I don’t want to get arrested again.”

  He gives me a once-over, his eyes big and bright. “Again?”

  Chapter 6

  ____ as a bird. *Free

  HUNT

  “I’m joking. I’ve never been arrested. I only carry guilt because I probably should’ve been. And no, I won’t tell you the story.”

  Her voice is an odd combination of self-assured and vulnerable. Somehow, she makes vulnerable sexy and sweet and sinful. Her pink cheeks… When they flush? Fuck, it makes me want to strip her underwear off her ass and make her pink everywhere. I want to molest the heaven that’s surely under that skirt. She wears vulnerable like a second skin. So, how is it she also wears confidence like a badge of honor? She’s a collision of self-belief and helplessness. Maybe she could yank my ass out of Sela land.

  “Come here. You look like you’re freezing.” I zip her sequin jacket then try to pull her into a hug. She backs away one step, then a few more, and wraps the blanket around her shoulders.

  “Want me to take you home?” I ask.

  “Hell no. I haven’t done something this crazy in a long time. This is good for me.”

  “Hop on. I’ll give you a ride.” I turn, squat, and then tap my back.

  “Are you serious?” She crosses her arms over her chest as I watch her.

  “Yeah. Come on. When was the last time you got a ride on someone’s shoulders?”

  She snorts out a flustered sounding laugh. I love the effect I have on her.

  “No. I’ll break your neck and your back.”

  “You’re a wisp. Now, get on.”

  She doesn’t move, so I saunter behind her. I grip her waist, and seconds later, her ass is in front of my face. “Spread your legs, Happy, or this is going to get intimate in a few seconds.”

  She screams as I lift her over my head and onto my shoulders, her skirt surrounding my face until she tugs it.

  “Oh my god, you are crazy!” She squeals. Her legs squeeze around my body, and she wraps her arms around my head.

  “Hey, you’re covering my eyes.” I peel her fingers off my face.

  “Oh, sorry. Wow, this is…fun.”

  “Do you feel free, little bluebird?” I spin around.

  And her laugh? Yeah, it’s one of those childlike laughs you have no choice but to join in. High-pitched screams and yelps punctuate her laughter as if we’re on a roller coaster ride. It’s so beautiful that a pulse hammers in quick beats from my stomach to my heart and then in a wild leap up my throat. An hour into Happy Land and I’m smitten.

  I gallop down a pier as Happy kicks my sides. Her chest pressed against my head, her crotch snuggled tight to the back of my neck. My fingertips grip her thighs, moving her skirt up inch by delicious inch until I feel garters. Fuck. I press my face against her inner thigh and inhale. Sweet, soft. Her thighs squeeze against my face, and I open my mouth to suck her right there—until she slides a hand between my mouth and her thigh.

  “Not a chance.”

  “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

  At the end of the pier I ease her off my shoulders. “You doing okay? Night getting any better?”

  “Yeah, much better.”

  I thread my fingers through hers, then lead her down a side pier. “This is my Uncle Elliot’s sailboat.”

  “Oh wow, it’s beautiful.” She’s looking at me, not the boat, when saying these words. I want to say to her: You’re beautiful, and without knowing much about you at all, I can feel all your beautiful…you radiate it.

  “Want to go on?”

  “Um, sure.” I step up first, holding my hand out to help her.

  “I know where he hides the cabin key. You want a water?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  I lift the mat and dig out the cabin door key. “Want to come down?”

  “No, I’m…” She backs away, shaking her head.

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Oh, right.” A crooked smile appears behind the hand she’s covering part of her mouth with. “I’m fine up here.”

  She’s fucking killing me with her quirky shyness. I grab two waters and pop an Etta James disk in the CD player. Happy is standing at the wheel when I climb out of the cabin. Her face is glowing with a grin I want to eat.

  “Since you like old school, I figured…”

  “Yeah.” She twirls a chuck of hair in her fingers. “I love it, I love this.” She opens her arms and glances around then stares at me. Christ, is she doing it for me.

  “C’mere.” I set the waters down and invite her into my arms.

  “Your hands are shaking.” I press her frame against mine, relishing the feel of a woman
who’s finally caught my eye and made sparks ignite in my stomach.

  “My whole body is shaking,” she whispers.

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because of everything.” She looks up at me and wets her lips. I dip my head to kiss her but she turns her head and my kiss lands on her temple instead of where I wanted it—on her sexy, pink pout.

  “That’s pretty vague. Is it the stars?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  “The ocean?”

  “Yes. The ocean.” Her voice cracks, her heart hammering alongside mine.

  “Being close to me?” I squeeze her, my erection pressing onto her stomach.

  “Yes.”

  “You like it though?”

  “A lot.”

  I tip her chin up to study her face, the soft light of the boat yard casting shadows on her perfectly sculpted cheekbones and jawline. “Do I scare you?”

  “In a good way.” She stares at my chest. “Yes…very much.”

  “Happy, look at me.”

  She fists handfuls of my shirt when our gazes meet.

  “You’re beautiful. Don’t be afraid of me.”

  Her gaze dips, and seconds later she shakes her head while staring at something or someone past my shoulder. I turn to see what it is that has her pushing off me, only to see boats. She gasps, then stumbles backward. “Sebastian,” she mutters.

  I rush forward to catch her, but she scrambles out of my arms.

  “I have to go… I can’t—”

  “Happy, wait.”

  She runs, trips, and then falls down with a groan and a thud. She jolts up and bolts off the boat then darts down the pier, mumbling and crying.

  “Happy, stop. Jesus. What’s wrong?” I hook my arm in the crook of her elbow.

  “I need to get out of here. Please let me get out of here.”

  She runs, and I follow until we meet the fence. Her wild-eyed expression and her erratic breaths have my stomach in knots.

  “Climb on my back and I’ll get you over the fence.”

  “No, you’ll kill us.” She flits her eyes around, which hold a flash of shock.

  “I won’t hurt you. I promise. Get on.”

  She hesitates for a few seconds, then climbs on my back, her trembling body wrapping around me like a marsupial.