Loving Wilder

by Leigh Tudor

  Dragging herself out of the car, with her handbag over her shoulder and clutching the water bottle to her chest, she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other until she found herself inside the hardware store.

  As she stood inside the entrance on the large commercial-sized mat, she gave herself a moment to breathe in the familiar and comforting scent of off-gassing chemicals and motor oil, which ironically made her stomach settle as opposed to travel up her esophagus. Her smile reached her eyes as she took in the sound of someone rummaging through a bin of what sounded like door hinges or cabinet pulls.

  Just as her vision began to skew and twist into geometric shapes, delivering a sense of harmony, a voice pulled her back into a more flat and less vivid world.

  “Loren?”

  She started, nearly dropping her water bottle as Jimbo stood in front of her with concern written all over his face. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, sure,” she replied, not sure if it was fact or wishful thinking. “Can you let Alec know I need to speak with him, please?”

  “Oh-kay,” he said with a tinge of surprise.

  She got it. She had always made it clear to Jimbo that she didn’t want Alec to know her personal comings and goings. And here she was, summoning him.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  She held up her bottle. “No, thanks, I’ve got Madame’s juice you made me this morning.” As soon as she’d told Jimbo of the miraculous stomach-settling powers of Madame’s concoction, he’d called her newly discovered Madame Grand for the recipe and made a large batch for her.

  Jimbo pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll go get Alec.”

  “Thanks,” she said, running a tendril of hair behind her ear and coughing delicately.

  While waiting, she fidgeted. Leaning on one hip, and then the other, she noticed the new shipment of birdbaths toward the front window and thought about purchasing one to put next to Mercy’s bird feeders by the shed. As she considered that, Alec came scooting around the corner with impressive speed. His eyes locked on hers as he came to an abrupt stop about ten feet in front of her.

  “Hey,” he said, his hands on his hips and breathing hard.

  “Hi,” she returned, the blood rushing through her body and pounding in her ears. “Can we talk? Privately?”

  “Of course,” he said, taking her in. “Come on back to the office.”

  She followed him, keeping her eyes above his waist so as not to ogle his delicious backside and groaned as the visual diversion meant that she was fixated on his broad shoulders fighting the seams of his shirt.”

  She nearly collided with his glorious body when he opened a door, indicating for her to go in before him.

  Smiling weakly, she entered the small office with Hank Sterling’s old metal desk and chair. A laptop and dual monitors appeared to be new additions to the otherwise outdated room.

  He walked past her to sit on the edge of the desk, crossing his arms and legs. “First, you’re going to tell me why you’re here, and then I’m taking you to the diner where I’m going to order you a full meal and watch you eat every bite.”

  And there he was. His face was stoic, and his words nonnegotiable.

  “I’m not hungry, and I’m not here to eat.”

  She searched the room, hoping the script she’d memorized would resurface and she could get past his surly demeanor, but he was killing her brain cells with his crystal blue eyes and earnest regard.

  This couldn’t be normal. Her reaction to his presence and the painful need to be close to him, maybe even curl up into a ball and live indefinitely inside the crook of his neck—this was. Not. Normal.

  She closed her eyes, willing her body to behave as she squeezed her legs together. Dammit, her vagina did not control her.

  She refused to be one of those women who couldn’t govern her raging hormones around the male persuasion. Even if that male made her throat feel parched as a result of the bodily fluids making a downward trek to her nether regions.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Alec interrupted her meanderings. “You’ve lost weight. Are you eating the food delivered to the house… by M2M?”

  “I’m fine. Just a little tired from all of the drama that has transpired over the last few months.” Not to mention the incessant puking. “But, I’m not here to discuss my BMI.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to be ingesting canola oil?”

  “What? Canola oil?”

  “It’s bad for you. Just stick to the nutrition-dense foods being delivered, and you should be fine.”

  Tilting her head to the side, she said, “You seem to know a lot about M2M’s witness grocery service.”

  He hesitated, causing her eyes to narrow. “M2M protocol. The organization takes the overall health of our witnesses awaiting trial very seriously.”

  “Yes, well, Hanson’s Market is doing a fine job of delivering adequate food.”

  Alec’s gaze widened. “What the hell? You’re supposed to be getting organic fruits and vegetables and grass-fed beef from Delano’s gourmet market.”

  She side-eyed him. “That’s right. But how do you know Delano’s is delivering the food?” She sucked in. “Oh, my God. You’re sending the food.”

  “What? No,” he said, picking up a staple gun as if intent on finding papers to affix to one another.

  She pointed at him and gasped. “You are!”

  “I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to arrange for something like that…” He opened the cartridge, checking to see if it needed more staples.

  “You just can’t help yourself, can you? You have to find ways to monitor and control me, clear down to the food I eat.”

  And then he finally caved, tossing the staple gun on the desk and covering his eyes in frustration.

  “Jesus, woman. I’m not trying to control you.” He threw his hands out to the side. “I’m trying to take care of you. You have the palette of an eight-year-old boy. That’s not healthy. I mean, look at you. How much weight have you lost?”

  “Believe me, it’s a temporary condition.” Her voice lowered, and her blood pressure began to rise from his incessant need to insert himself into her life in covert ways.

  It was maddening.

  And lovely.

  How was she supposed to get over him if he was being so blasted attentive?

  His knuckles were turning white, holding the edge of the desk as she stepped closer to him. “I don’t know what else I can do to convince you that I don’t want you in my life, controlling me and telling me what to do and how to do it.”

  Oh God, forcing her way into his personal space for intimidation purposes was not a good idea. She felt angry, light-headed, aroused, and mesmerized by the pheromones emanating from his sternum as he took deep, angry breaths.

  And there was the heat. His intoxicating, hypnotizing heat that seeped into her bones and muddled her brain.

  Suddenly, his large hand was cradling the back of his neck, and she refused to notice the veins bulging alongside his forearms. “Listen to me,” he said, pounding his chest with his fist. “I need you to eat.” The anger had shifted to what seemed desperation.

  “Why?”

  He shook his head as he glanced at the ceiling. “You’re killing me.” His eyes landed back onto hers. “Because I care about you,” he answered, as if she was asking the most ignorant question possible.

  “Then stop,” she whispered.

  He shook his head with pinched lips. “Not possible. It’s how I’m built.”

  “Taking care of women in distress?”

  “Just the ones I love.”

  She felt her body melt while looking into soulful, sad eyes.

  “I look at you with so many conflicting emotions…”

  She fidgeted, unsure where this was going.

  “When I’m around you it’s like I’m perpetually wound tight with a mixture of wonder and rage, and then I’m hit with a lethal dose of amusement.” He lowered his hea
d with a tortured sigh. “And before I have a chance to catch my breath, I’m blindsided by nothing short of… absolute awe. Of you.”

  “That sounds like … a lot,” she whispered. “Some might even say too much.”

  “It is a lot,” he said with baleful eyes. “But instead of being too much, it seems I can’t get enough.”

  His large calloused hand found its way to the back of her neck and pulled her toward him, and she willfully followed until she was inches from his lips.

  Those beautiful pillowy lips.

  Oh God, and there was that signature scent. He smelled like woodsy peat, manual labor, and garden hoses.

  Her kryptonite.

  She swayed as it hit her nostrils and staked its claim to her olfactory system. And before her muddled brain could focus, his lips were kissing her cheek and then the corner of her mouth until he turned her head just so and gently touched her lips.

  His other hand ventured down her arm and then wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer.

  And just like that, he penetrated her good senses and rid her of any discernible level of self-preservation as his kiss turned adamant. Compelling her to surrender.

  God, how she wanted to raise the white flag. Raise it high above her head and flap it back and forth to say, “Take me, right here in your office where anyone could walk in.”

  He slid his hip from the edge of the desk until she was fully lodged against him, and she felt how much he wanted her as both hands cradled her face and his mouth continued to work its magic, hijacking her resolve.

  Why was she here again? Oh yes, she’d stopped by to climb him like a tree and rub her palm against the zipper that was no match for the erection fighting to escape its confines.

  To give it a fighting chance, she undid the top button, yanked down the offensive zipper, and pulled him free of his boxers.

  Releasing him, she used her hands to balance herself while she inched them down over his abs and then pulled both boxers and jeans down as she knelt before him.

  “Fuck yes,” he groaned as she looked up at him, confirming her intent, and then took him in hand and pulled him toward her mouth.

  Both of their hearts stopped at the sound of someone knocking on the door.

  “Alec, you in there?”

  He wrenched her up by her biceps. “Hold on,” he said.

  The voice on the other side seemed baffled by the delay. “Okay, um, Maggie stopped by to meet you and say hello.”

  Loren stood to the side, catching her breath as he shoved himself back into his pants.

  Maggie?

  Loren racked her brain at the unfamiliar name.

  Who the hell was Maggie?

  She straightened her clothing so as not to look as if she’d been mauling him seconds prior. Meanwhile, he avoided eye contact with her.

  He finally looked up as if to say, are you ready? She nodded as she crossed her arms over her chest to hide the nipples that appeared hard enough to cut glass.

  Alec moved to the door, grabbed the doorknob, and took a breath before opening it.

  Trevor stood at the door with a perplexed look on his face. And Loren wanted to dive behind the desk as his expression slowly changed as he read the room.

  Accurately.

  And then the head of someone standing at his side poked in as well with a timid grin on her angelic face.

  The woman was beautiful and extremely polite as she gave one of those waist high, girlish waves to Loren and Alec as Trevor made the introductions.

  Loren soon learned that Maggie was Haley’s elementary school teacher and couldn’t have looked more the part. She was cute and wholesome and had perfect white teeth with Cupid bow lips.

  She wore a sleeveless linen dress the color of the palest pink that seemed to highlight her peaches and cream complexion. Her silky chin-length blond tresses came from nature as opposed to where Loren’s came from—a cardboard box you could snag at your local pharmacy or one of the higher-end gas stations.

  And of course, Loren’s roots were in dire need of attention, as she was warned against using the harsh chemicals on her hair while she was expecting. So she was currently sporting circa 1980 Madonna roots down the center of her part. To add to her oh-so-trashy look, she had thrown on a baseball shirt with red sleeves that had “Vote for Pedro” printed on the front, jean shorts and Converse sneakers that had seen better days.

  While Maggie looked ready to host a PTA meeting with finger sandwiches missing their crusts and crystal bowls of pastel-tinted punch, Loren looked primed for a bar fight.

  But as pretty and angelic as Maggie appeared, she was also clueless. Oblivious to the fact that Loren’s cheeks were flushed and her lips bee-stung from gnawing on Alec’s.

  Not to mention, looking as if she’d just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Or a certain man’s pants.

  Dear God. Did she have no shame?

  She blew out a sigh, recognizing today’s objective was a total bust. Time to bolt before she lost any more IQ points and dragged Alec by the hair to the back seat of her car to have her way with him.

  “Thanks for the advice, Alec,” Loren said in an overly large voice. “So glad we could discuss the color of paint for my fencing.”

  Trevor coughed an expletive into his fist as she scooted between him, who was giving Alec a skeptical eye, and Maggie, who continued to appear guileless and made of magically spun sugar.

  And undeserving of the lie.

  Loren’s house didn’t have fencing.

  “Oh please, don’t leave on my account,” Maggie said, holding her purse in both hands as if she had just committed a faux pas of epic proportions. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

  “No, no,” Loren assured, walking backward as she made it to the hallway. “I’ve got… a ton of fencing to install. And then paint.”

  She waved goodbye to everyone with exaggerated gestures, doing her best to avoid eye contact with Alec as she rounded the corner and finally made it through the front entrance.

  She barreled toward the car, feeling her stomach roll and sweat break out on her forehead. When she grabbed the door handle, her stomach heaved, and she vomited down the side of the car.

  Breathing hard and barely taking the time to ensure she was, in fact, done with all the retching, she opened the car door and slid into the seat. Then, she dug into her bag for her keys.

  Loren looked up in time to see an earnest Alec storming through the front doors, but before he could clear the threshold, she had the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.

  Humiliation in the form of tears dripped down her face. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other rifling around the inside of her handbag, she pulled out a wad of tissues and began to wipe at her eyes and mouth.

  She had gone and done exactly what she swore she wouldn’t do. Worse than that, she’d done it in record time. Finding herself on her knees and ready to rock Alec’s world within minutes of being pulled into his trajectory.

  Minutes before him meeting a nice girl.

  She wasn’t stupid. Maggie wasn’t a customer. Maggie was someone Trevor was introducing to Alec for purposes well outside of her hardware needs.

  Alec was moving on, and all Loren was doing was getting in the way of his happily ever after with a lovely woman, who could probably do a far better job of containing her carnal impulses at the first sight of his biceps.

  Trembling, she pulled over to the side of the road and put the car into park so she could get a hold of herself and look for some more tissues in the glove compartment.

  Lord, could she be more hormonal? She couldn’t recall ever crying while at the Center. But had managed to rain buckets of tears over the last several weeks. Sometimes, during a particularly heart-rending advertisement for homeless and abused animals.

  Damn that Sarah McLachlan!

  She rubbed her belly and slowly began to pull herself together as she found more paper napkins in the
glove compartment under what looked to be a vehicle instruction manual.

  Blowing her nose, she reminded herself that this was what she wanted, for Alec to move on. And that it was a good thing Trevor was introducing him to a saccharine sweet schoolteacher. A woman who committed her life to molding young minds as opposed to damaging them. She probably ate a vegan diet where she grew her own organic food and wore only natural-spun fibers.

  If she were honest with herself, she should be happy for him.

  But she wasn’t. She was miserable. She didn’t want him to be with someone else. She wanted him to want her because she was worthy of him. Because she was normal and good and kind, and didn’t view life in weird fractals and geometric algorithms when things went haywire. Someone who had never considered the size of her trunk or whether she had a sufficient amount of plastic sheeting on hand, in the event that she had to dispose of a body.

  And what did it say about her that she knew her M2M issued Volvo XC-90 had more cargo space than any other luxury midsize SUV at 15.8 cubic feet?

  Simple math and extensive experience told her that 63.05 pounds of deceased human body would fit within one cubic foot of cargo space, thus her spacious vehicle easily offered enough room for three dead bodies.

  A worthwhile and proactive calculation. You know, just in case.

  Plucking at her lips, she wondered if M2M provided such cavernous and expensive vehicles to all their potential eyewitnesses.

  Her breathing started to settle, along with her stomach, as she thought about Madame’s comments concerning her and Mercy being such tiresome martyrs, compromising their happiness and that of others all because of their misplaced self-esteem issues and ill-conceived ideas of personal responsibility toward those they loved and cared about.

  Maybe she was right. Maybe she needed to give Alec a chance. Allow him to decide for himself what he wanted. And if he decided that a boring elementary teacher with perfectly styled natural blond hair, who was pure of heart was his thing, then so be it.

  Chances were she probably didn’t even know how to load a gun.

  But more importantly, he had the right to know that they were about to have a baby. Which meant it was time to woman-up and tell him.