Wilde Times

by Savannah Young

  It’s Sunday night and we’ve closed Haymakers, except for the family and friends we’ve invited for our wedding. I have to thank them for their stamina. This is the fourth wedding most of them have attended in the past two days.

  ***

  Yesterday Riley and Cooper got married in a beautiful ceremony at a local community church. They had the wedding Riley had always hoped for with the church service, the flowers, the attendants and the minister officiating. Cooper was over the moon when she walked down the aisle. Gracie was right about the dress she picked out. He was overwhelmed by the sight of her.

  Then we got in our cars and hurried to the town square where Gracie and Tucker exchanged vows under a lovely gazebo at dusk. Tucker looked too happy to be scary. And Gracie’s baby bump only made the ceremony more special.

  We celebrated both of their weddings with a big reception at the Tawnee Mountain Resort compliments of Cooper and Riley’s big Wall Street salaries. From the chocolate fountains to the fancy five course meal, they spared no expense for their big day.

  This morning the Wilde brothers and their girls all snuck out to Buttermilk Falls with a non-denominational minister who specializes in outdoor weddings. We all successfully evaded the paparazzi for a super-secret wedding ceremony between Hunter and his movie star girlfriend, Katie Lawrence.

  ***

  Now we’re all gathered back at Haymakers for the final of the four Wilde weddings. If someone would have asked me even two months ago if I thought I’d be getting married to Jake Wilde I would have told them they were crazy.

  But now it seems like the most obvious thing in the world.

  It may seem a bit impulsive to propose to someone on a first date, but for Jake and I it felt like a long time coming when he finally popped the question. As I stared at the glimmering gemstone that he placed on my finger I wasn’t sure that I could ever be any happier than I was at that moment.

  But that moment is actually being topped by how I’m feeling right now. As Gracie and I step out of the backroom into Haymakers I can see all of my family and friends gathered around for my big day. I feel like my life is finally complete. I have everything I have ever wanted. Everything I ever hoped for is now at my feet. It’s the beginning of the life I always wanted with Jake.

  I’m happy to see both my parents smiling as they wait to walk me down the small aisle we’ve made for the bridal procession.

  I have to admit that my parents weren’t exactly thrilled when I first told them about my engagement to Jake. It pretty much meant finally putting an end to the dreams they had of me going to college. They felt a tiny bit better about the idea when I mentioned that I’d be co-managing Haymakers. They know it’s one of the most successful businesses in Old Town and has been for generations. And I think it also eased their minds a bit that I wouldn’t be living in the house alone while they travel around Europe.

  Before I head toward the stage where Jake is standing with his brothers Gracie walks down the aisle ahead of me. She joins Riley and Katie Lawrence Wilde, who are already waiting next to the stage. The girls are all in matching, short, pink bridesmaid gowns and pink cowgirl boots.

  This is only the second time since graduation that I can remember seeing Jake in anything but jeans and his well-worn cowboy boots. He looks absolutely stunning in his black shadow-stripe tuxedo, matching vest and silver tie—all of the Wilde brothers look amazing.

  As soon as Jake lays eyes on me his entire face lights up. My stomach is filled with those pesky butterflies again, but I do my best to breathe deeply as I make my way toward the rest of the bridal party.

  Jake’s old football coach, Mr. Stanley, also happens to be a minister, so he’s agreed to officiate the ceremony for us.

  I have to laugh when Coach Stanley says, “I knew the day would eventually come when Jake Wilde would finally grow up and settle down. I just didn’t think it would take him ten years to do it.”

  Jake and I look into each other’s eyes as Coach Stanley reads the wedding vows that we both wrote for the occasion. Part of me still wants to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.

  But when Coach Stanley announces that we’re husband and wife, and Jake kisses me, I know my dream is now a reality.

  I’m Mrs. Harley Wilde. And I’m standing next to Mrs. Riley Wilde, Mrs. Gracie Wilde and Mrs. Katie Lawrence-Wilde. And in just a few minutes we’re going to be dancing the night away, while Wilde Riders plays some foot-stomping country music in the bar that I’ll be spending the rest of my life running with my husband.

  Sneak Peek

  See MAX ELLIOT again in…

  RYE MUST DIE

  An Izzy & Max Paranormal Romantic Comedy

  By Dakota Madison & Savannah Young

  There’s a fine line between sexy alpha and creepy stalker…and Rye has crossed it.

  I’m supposed to be dead. Suicide by hanging. But when I regained consciousness I was still alive…still the crazy girl voted “Most Likely to Kill Herself” in high school…still the girl who everyone in Old Town loved to hate.

  But one thing had changed. He had saved me. A man wearing all black and riding a motorcycle. He pulled me down from the tree and made sure I was still breathing.

  And now he’s following me… I just don’t know why…But I’m eager to find out.

  Prologue

  I gasp for breath. Then I cough. The brisk air stings my lungs.

  I’m on the cold, hard ground, not hanging from the tree like I’m supposed to be, and I’m definitely not dead.

  When I open my eyes I’m glad it’s dusk. I don’t think I could take the glare of the sun right now. Dusk was always my favorite time of day, when nature’s light is fading away.

  My neck feels raw, but there’s no rope on it. I search around me, but the rope seems to have vanished.

  I spot a guy dressed in all black. He’s sitting on a black H-D Iron 883, very similar to the motorcycle I ride.

  A shiver runs through me when I realize the guy is watching me.

  He must have been the one who did it. He cut me down from the tree. I have a vague memory of a struggle. Of strong arms grabbing me and holding me tight. I fought against him, but I was hopelessly outmatched.

  I wanted to die but I realized he wasn’t going to let me.

  Then I blacked out, and woke up on the ground.

  I wonder how long he’s going to sit there. It’s almost like he’s guarding me. Then he opens a black satchel on his bike and removes a rope—my rope—and holds it up for me to see.

  I feel like he’s taunting me with it. Why does this asshole care if I live or die?

  When I give him the finger he doesn’t respond. He just puts on his dark helmet and speeds away, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

  I think about some of the other ways I could kill myself, but those methods leave a margin of error that I’m not comfortable with. I don’t want to jump in front of a moving truck only to be paralyzed for life and still not dead.

  Besides, I’m suddenly hungry and craving a burger and fries in the worst way. I guess today is not the day for me to die.

  Six Weeks Later

  Another exciting day at the Old Town Antique Shop. I’ve had only two customers and only one who actually bought something. It’s a good thing the building is completely paid for, I live right upstairs, and my grandmother was extremely generous to me in her will. I certainly couldn’t afford to run a real business on the pittance the store makes on a weekly basis.

  I would have been out of Old Town by now if my grandmother didn’t croak. And she didn’t stipulate in her will that I had to keep the antique shop running in order to get the money she entrusted to me. I’m the last living member of the Grant family and I now have the honor of running the business that’s been in our family for generations.

  I glance down at the stash of romance novels I keep hidden under the counter. I know they’re cheesy, but right now they’re the only things that are keeping me from slashing my wrists when
I’m in the bathtub. They give me the slightest bit of hope that maybe someday; someone will love the town pariah. Even the meanest girls in romance novels always get the guy.

  I’m deep in a very hot sex scene when I’m startled by the little bell that chimes when the front door opens.

  I’m even more surprised by the guy who walks into my shop. Or more like strolls in. He’s wearing a wild flowered Hawaiian shirt over a red Green Day T-shirt, faded cargo pants and red converse high tops. He runs his hands through his mop of sun-bleached blond hair, but it doesn’t help. Old Town is always windy, but his hair isn’t just windblown. It’s a little too long and looks shaggy.

  He’s definitely not from Old Town.

  After giving me a quick once over he grins. His grin is too wide and his teeth are too perfect and too white. I already hate him.

  “You know we’re nowhere near the shore?” I try not to sound as disgusted as this guy is making me.

  He laughs. He seems like the kind of guy who laughs easily. I hate him even more.

  “I’m not here to surf.”

  I give him a once over. “You could have fooled me.”

  He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a shiny business card. He wiggles it in my face so the light overhead reflects off of it.

  I rip the card out of his hand just to make the glare stop. “What’s wrong with you?”

  He laughs again, which makes me even more perturbed. Not that it’s difficult to do. Most people are able to get on my bad side pretty quickly.

  “Do you want a list?” He raises an eyebrow at me.

  I shake my head and examine his card:

  Old Town Ghost Tours. Max Elliot, Paranormal Investigator.

  Great. Not only is he starting to be the most annoying person on the planet, he’s also one of those ghost hunting freaks.

  I try to hand the card back to him, but he puts his hands up and shakes them at me. “The card is yours to keep.”

  If I had a trash can close I’d make a point of throwing the thing inside of it, but the trash can is on the other side of this weirdo and I don’t feel like walking past him to get to it.

  “You didn’t answer my question.” I glare at him.

  “What’s wrong with me?” He looks down at his watch, which I now notice has Mickey Mouse on it. “How much time do you have?”

  I give an exasperated sigh. “What can I help you with?”

  He grins again. Boy does this guy like to smile a lot. He must think it’s charming, and maybe some girls are into that, but I’m definitely not one of them. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve smiled so far this year.

  And I don’t go for blonds and definitely not beach boy blonds with big smiles. I prefer the dark and dangerous type, all in black leather, preferably riding a motorcycle.

  “I’d love for you to go out with me, but we can negotiate that later. I’m here to see Alberta Grant. Something tells me that you’re not Alberta.”

  “I’m Izzy Grant,” I reply, but I’m not sure why. I don’t really want anything to do with this guy.

  “What’s Izzy short for?”

  I frown. “Izzy.”

  No one calls me by my given name, and definitely not this guy. I only give it out on a need-to-know basis.

  “Okay, Izzy. How can I find Alberta?”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re obviously not from around here.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Well, you’re not wearing jeans and cowboy boots for starters.” And you have no idea my grandmother is dead. Everyone in town knows that.

  He points to his business card lying on the counter. “Just moved here. I’m trying to start a business.”

  “In Old Town?”

  He nods. “I’m going to capitalize on the popularity of the Tawnee Mountain Resort. The guests need some nighttime entertainment and ghost hunting is really popular right now.”

  I don’t feel like stating the obvious. That there’s no such thing as ghosts.

  I decide to play with the guy because he’s annoying and it’s not like I have anything better to do.

  “Alberta isn’t here right now, but I can take you to her.”

  He grins again. Oh how I wish I could just slap that big grin right off of his perfect, beach boy face. Then he looks around the place. “Are you sure you aren’t too busy?”

  I narrow my gaze at him. “I’ll make time for you.”

  “See, you already like me.”

  If he only knew.

  I lock up the store and hang up my OUT TO LUNCH sign. Max follows me to the small parking lot on the side of the store.

  I stop in front of my old Harley H-D Iron 883. “Do you want a ride? I’ve got an extra helmet.”

  He laughs. “There is no way I’m riding on the back of a chick’s motorcycle.”

  I point a finger in his face. “I’m not a chick. And if you ever call me that again, I’ll rip your dick off.”

  He puts his hands up. “Okay, chill. It’s just an expression. Can we take my car instead?”

  I glance at the bright red Mini Cooper parked at the other end of the parking lot. “That’s not a real vehicle. That’s a clown car.”

  “This isn’t just any Mini Cooper. It’s a special limited edition.”

  I frown. “Just an FYI. If you plan on living in Old Town you’ll attract a lot less attention if you’re driving a pickup, preferably a Ford or a Dodge Ram.”

  He grins. Another one of those huge grins that irritate every nerve in my body. “Who says I don’t want attention?”

  I shake my head. “Never mind.”

  I’m short, only about five feet two inches, and I’m worried about fitting inside that car. I have no idea how Max, who’s easily a foot taller than me, fits inside of it.

  “Okay, we can take your car,” I agree, but only because I want to see how he squeezes inside that thing.

  He pulls his keys from his pocket and starts throwing them in the air like he’s juggling with them. The guy has no shortage of ways to completely annoy me.

  To my surprise Max fits into his car better than I imaged he would. He’s got the seat pushed back as far as it will go, so his legs aren’t cramped.

  “You could buy a bigger car,” I say as I snap on my seat belt. “Being such a big guy.”

  He laughs. “Are you kidding? This car is a chick magnet. I’ve known you less than fifteen minutes and I’ve already got you inside of it.”

  When he winks at me I feel a little bile rise in my throat like I want to vomit. “Just so we’re clear. You’re not my type.”

  He waves the comment off like a mosquito. “I’m everyone’s type.”

  “Not mine,” I repeat.

  “You won’t know for sure until you’ve had a chance to test the goods.” Then he winks at me.

  Now I’m really going to be sick. “I’m not interested in testing any of your goods. Do you want to see my grandmother or not?”

  He heaves a sigh. “Tell me where to drive.”

  Five minutes later we pull up to the Old Town Cemetery. As soon as Max parks the car he turns and looks at me. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

  “You’re the ghost hunter. Isn’t this like your Valhalla or something?”

  He rolls his eyes at me. “Most graveyards aren’t haunted. Spirits like to stay close to loved ones, or places they were most familiar with before they died.”

  “Whatever you say.” I open the door and hop out of his clown car.

  I’m surprised when he follows. Part of me thought he’d just turn the engine back on and speed away.

  As I open the cemetery gate I’m overwhelmed with sadness…again. It’s been happening a lot lately…ever since my grandmother died. She was the last of my relatives, and now I’m alone in the world. Not that I’m not used to being a loner. I’m known for it. But being alone, without any family to anchor me, makes me feel truly lost.

  Alberta Grant wasn’t the nicest person in the world, but s
he was my rock. She lived to be ninety, and from what I’ve heard around town, spent at least forty of those years being a cantankerous old broad, who was both feared and admired.

  I seem to be following in her footsteps. Except for the ad-mired part. People in Old Town say I’m freak and a bitch and tend to steer clear.

  And I’m okay with that.

  When I find my grandmother’s headstone I clear away the leaves that have fallen on it.

  “How did she die?” Max asks. His tone is actually sincere. He’s finally dropped the overdone surfer-boy salesman act.

  “She was old. Ninety.”

  He nods. “Do you miss her?”

  “More than I ever thought I would.”

  He’s actually quiet as he stands there with me. He’s slightly attractive when he’s not talking. It’s when he opens his pie hole that he’s a complete turn off.

  As we drive back toward the antique shop I have a brief moment of panic when Max passes right by it.

  “You missed my stop.”

  “I know,” he says matter-of-factly.

  “Let me out. Now.” I can feel my pulse start to race. I briefly consider jumping out of the car, but I’m not wearing my leather today so the pavement would definitely hurt as I slid across it.

  “It’s okay.” When Max glances over at me, I can see concern in his eyes. “I’m just going to take you to lunch. My treat.”

  I take in a deep breath and try to calm my frayed nerves. “Lunch?”

  “You put an OUT TO LUNCH sign on your door,” he reminds me. “So I’m taking you to lunch.”

  “You’ll do anything for a date, won’t you?”

  “So you’re actually going on a date with me?” He grins. “And here I thought you were a tough girl.”

  I huff. “Do I have a choice? You kind of have me trapped in your clown car.”

  When he glances over at me his eyes have turned serious. “You always have a choice. Don’t ever forget that.”

  I nod, but we’re both quiet as we head back into the center of Old Town.

  If only all guys thought the way he does, my life wouldn’t be a complete and total mess.