Going Wild (The Wild Ones Book 2) Page 15

  His hands go to his sides, making him look like a superhero, sort of like he always looked when he was raising me and my unruly cousins on his own. But why is he actually posing right now?

  “Your mother never tried to fit in, Kylie. Neither did the boys’ parents. They saw themselves somewhere else the entire time they were here. Liam loves this town. He may have moved here for you, but he’s stayed because he found his unusual tribe in the most unusual of places.”

  His grin grows as I stare at him like he’s getting a little too theatrical.

  “You’re starting make all this less of a father/daughter conversation and more of an after-school special,” I point out dryly. “My question is, are you cool with some unknown guy who stalked me here stripping me out of my clothes every night?” I ask, helping put him on the path to Threatsville.

  I bet the Malones will be twice as brutal as the Vincents when they finally get unleashed.

  Then I can rub it in Lilah’s face.

  He continues on like he has all the answers to the universe, while I sit silently and regret coming here. He picks now to practice his Dad-of-the-Year-Award speech, it seems.

  While doing the superhero pose again…

  “Most people believe it’s a phase. I’ll be honest, I worried as much as well. Then I saw the way he held his own with the Vincents. They’re not easy to impress, and you know that.”

  Kill. Me. Now.

  He squats down in front of me and snatches my hand, pulling it into his as he pats the back of it. Doing that Brady Bunch, good-dad thing that is sort of freaking me out, because he’s usually all growly and yelling.

  I prefer growly and yelling. It’s like chicken noodle soup.

  This is just…terrifyingly anticlimactic.

  “Is this reverse psychology?” I ask him. “You know, where you try to convince me Liam is perfect for me by overly selling him, so that I’ll be less Juliette and more Julie-hell-no?”

  He blinks at me.

  “I couldn’t come up with someone the opposite of Juliette, so just go with it,” I prompt.

  He holds my gaze, his expression so…sweet. Are there cameras here? I dart a gaze around the corners of the barn, looking for the cameras I can’t find.

  Is he doing this just to piss me off? Because it’s really freaking working.

  “I can’t give you assurances you seek, my darling child. But I can remind you that you’re a Wild One. Chester Perkins will never take the risks my girl will, because he doesn’t have a reckless bone in his body.”

  My darling child? Seriously?

  There are cameras; I just don’t see them. I bet he signed up for some reality show and this is his audition tape or something.

  He stands, and I groan when I finally let the rest of his speech play over in my head. “Did you really just give that entire speech so you could make a dig at Chester?”

  Laughing, he winks at me. “Just proving a point. At the end of the day, there are only four families of Wild Ones for a reason. No one else has it in them to take the risks we take for fun. Don’t guard your heart too much, Kylie. If a Vincent can fall in love, then so can a Malone.”

  “So all this to take a dig at Chester and put me in competition with Lilah?” I ask incredulously.

  He gives me a proud look that only leaves me groaning, then he chuckles as he walks away.

  “Thanks for absolutely nothing,” I call to his back, tempted to flip him off, but then worrying he might come back and ground me or something.

  I stay on the stool for a minute, then finally stand and snatch my backpack from the ground. That was an hour of my life I’ll never get back.

  When my eyes come up, I see Jared leaning against the barn entrance, a look on his face that makes me realize he’s been eavesdropping.

  “What?” I ask a little too defensively.

  Does he know I’m desperate for them to threaten Liam? Am I that transparent?

  “My parents never liked Tomahawk,” he states simply. “Not even a little.”

  My eyebrows hit my hairline.

  “Okay…”

  “They hated the bugs, the wild animals, the small town, the limited amount of things to do.” He shrugs as he pockets his hands. “It stopped hurting when they left us behind instead of taking us with them. We still haven’t met our other siblings. Don’t really care to. I’m sure they’ve heard the worst about us.”

  My lips purse, and I prop up as well. “They popped out four of you here, and your dad contributed to three kids there. Rabbits come to mind. Maybe they have more in common with wild animals than they realize.”

  He snorts and rolls his eyes.

  “The point is,” he goes on, “we reached the point when we were happy they were gone. The day we took the Malone name was the last time we looked back. George may be our uncle, but in all reality, he’s the best father we’ve ever had.”

  “What does that have to do with the current price of eggs?” I ask, trying not to make a big deal of his confession, because I don’t want to make it weird.

  Especially since he’s being real right now, and I came here for completely different reasons.

  “If George thinks Liam is worth a shot, then I trust him. And you should too.”

  He turns to leave, and I jog out to catch him.

  “I’m already giving him a shot,” I tell him.

  “No. You’re not,” he argues. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here asking your father to tell you what to do. You just thought he’d give you a different answer.”

  He keeps walking fast, and I have to keep jogging to keep up with his long strides.

  “You’re wrong,” I tell him, which causes him to stop and give me an unconvinced look. I start to tell him the true—and somewhat petty—reason I’m here, then realize how stupid he’ll feel for being nice and stuff, and decide against it. “I…wanted to hear my father’s opinion, because he’s always looked out for all of our best interests.”

  He cants his head, studying me, and I bat my lashes.

  “And?” he asks.

  Grinning, I turn and head back toward the quad I borrowed from the house.

  “And I hope you like Liam, because I’ll be bringing him out soon to see the family business,” I call behind me.

  He groans, but when I turn to look back, he’s restraining a smile.

  Shaking his head, he turns and walks away.

  Clearly this day has not gone as planned, but at least I don’t have to worry about them killing him or anything. I guess that’s the silver lining.

  And I can take Liam away from the Vincents since the Malones are being unusually nice for a change.

  Chapter 21

  Wild Ones Tip #522

  Hell is probably wallpapered with our selfies. Just sayin’.

  LIAM

  “I didn’t realize you had a job,” I tell her as we turn into her father’s driveway.

  We spent the entire weekend in bed. For the most part. And not just for the fun stuff. I think we tried to cram all the information about each other we could in a tiny span of time, without ever going so deep that it dragged down the conversation.

  Apparently I still don’t know all her secrets, since this is coming as a hell of a surprise. She said let’s take a ride, and I went along. She waited until now to explain she had work. Work with her father and cousins.

  “Have you seen my boot collection? You think my art pays for all that plus living expenses?” she asks around a derisive snort.

  “It should. I paid a nice bit for that Loki piece, and it was worth a lot more,” I state warily as we pass her father’s house and continue down the long driveway.

  “Yeah, but that was a rarity. Most of my expensive pieces don’t sell because I’m an unknown artist. But I still have quite a few that have been moving since Shasta strung together that really fun tour. I’ve done some more galleries since then too. However, that’s just boot money.”

  She could easily make good money if she had the r
ight contacts. Contacts I’ve offered her countless times. She won’t even let me put her work in my galleries—any of them—even though I’ve made it clear I love her art.

  She thinks I’m partial.

  Stubborn woman.

  She stops at the end of the driveway, and raises a green flag with a beaver on it until it’s at the top with more of the same flags above it. Only one still dangles at the bottom.

  “That’s boot money?” I ask, finally processing that comment as she gets back in and starts driving.

  “Well, yeah. I have bill money and boot money.” She states these things as though it’s supposed to be obvious all the time, and I always smile because…I have no idea. Hell, it doesn’t take much to make me smile like a fucking schmuck.

  She knows her power over me, but likes to pretend she doesn’t. Or maybe she doesn’t know, and I like to pretend she does.

  We park at the end of the driveway, next to a lot of pasture land that doesn’t have lakeside views.

  Four men turn to look at me from the fence they’re leaning against. Only Jared is missing from attendance. A little black sheep takes off running away from George’s loosened grip like it just got the keys to kingdom.

  “You really do live on a ranch,” I state absently, frankly a little shocked.

  “Farm. Not ranch,” she argues.

  “What’s going on here?” George asks, his brow scrunched as he gestures toward me.

  “Liam is hanging out today. I’m making him endure my presence as much as possible to test his tolerance level,” she deadpans, causing more confusion to wander around inside me aimlessly.

  George nods. “Good idea. You two can start on the asses.”

  “Asses?” I ask, then clear my throat since my voice cracks a little.

  Just what the hell are they doing out here?

  “The jackasses,” Kylie clarifies. Or tries too… “Dad has sheep, jackasses, four cows, and runs a bait shop too. We take turns working the bait shop. It opens just before dawn.” She gestures around. “Our sheep are the best quality you can find, but Malones are most known for their jackasses.”

  She bursts out laughing, while all the other Malones groan in unison.

  “It’s never going to be funny,” George tells her.

  “It’s just too obvious,” Eric states on an exasperated sigh.

  My lips twitch as Kylie’s chuckles die down, and she rolls her eyes.

  “Anyway. I’ll show you all we do. Got a big auction coming up, so there’s plenty of work to do between now and then,” Kylie goes on.

  I notice she’s wearing an old, beat up pair of cowboy boots. I guess that makes more sense now.

  I glance down at my very expensive, leather shoes.

  “Oh, shit. I should have told you so you could dress better,” Kylie says as her face falls.

  She knows shoes.

  Clearing my throat, I roll my eyes. “I can get new ones.”

  The four Malones start laughing under their breath, and Kylie cuts her gaze to them.

  “You can take him to change his shoes. We’ll save you some work,” Jason tells her, then gives me a bland look.

  “The shoes are replaceable,” I quickly tell her before she argues and makes me look like more of a pansy.

  They continue to laugh at me, so I point up at the flag you can see for miles away, since their pole is obnoxiously tall, and there are five of them lifted in the air—one for every Malone in attendance. I bet the bait shop has one in the air too.

  “Just curious, why the beaver?” I ask, gesturing to the flags.

  “Because we like beavers,” Jason quickly fires back, winking at me.

  “Just wondering if it was someone’s way of labeling you all pussies and convincing you to wave the flag with pride.”

  The second the words leave my mouth, all the lingering laughter dies. George Malone is the first to crack a smile before turning his head. Jason and Eric glare daggers through me. Heath is busy getting gum off the bottom of his shoe and completely oblivious to the new conversation.

  Kylie bursts out laughing, doubling over, and I smirk as I wink at the two glaring Malones. They both mutter something I can’t hear, but I’m sure it’s a threat.

  She grabs my hand, tugging me away, and I toss my arm around her shoulders.

  Then…I spend several hours doing a lot of physical labor, watching her cousins get in no less than three fights, and her father kick the hell out of the barn door no less than fifteen times when it jams.

  All the while, they rib each other and me. They laugh and joke. They eat lunch together and talk about their plans for the week. And they all weirdly include me.

  My lips press to Kylie’s head during one of the shit-shoveling breaks, and she leans against me, tired as she kisses my neck.

  “It’s not always like this. Most days are easy. It’s just Mondays that take the longest, because we do minimal of work on the weekends,” she assures me.

  Before I can say anything, George Malone is coming around the corner with two bottles of water. He hands me one, and I drink it down as he talks to Kylie about the auction.

  “Liam can join us,” he says, his eyes not bothering to meet mine.

  Kylie just grins. “I’ll let him know,” she says seriously.

  He scowls at her, then turns and faces me. “You can join us,” he tells me grudgingly.

  “Thanks,” I say with a small grin. “I’d like that.”

  He turns and walks away without another word, and I idly wonder what my life would have been like if I’d had a family like this. People who are just there. People who can fight one second, then talk to you like nothing is wrong in the next.

  “Just another hour, and we can get out of here. I’ll take you to—”

  I cut her off, kissing her as I pin her up against the tree, and she grins against my lips as she pulls me closer.

  When we break the kiss, she gives me a curious look. “What was that for?” she asks.

  “Monday,” is what I tell her before returning to the pile of shit I’ve almost gotten completely shoveled into the wagon. Because there’s a wagon being pulled by a jackass—a literal jackass.

  This is my Monday.

  By the time we’re finished, her dad has a tray of lemonade, and all the Malones, Jared included, are sitting down under a shade tree in a circle around a fire pit.

  They’re laughing and talking, and two of the Malones are volleying insults at each other.

  I take the last seat available, and tug Kylie onto my lap. No one bats an eye.

  “So you’re officially a Tomahawk man now,” her dad tells me, lifting his glass as I chug down the lemonade, surprised by how good it is.

  I nod, not bothering to open my mouth and say something that might get something thrown at my head. Never can tell with these people. It’s a family of sour patch kids.

  “He’s not Tomahawk. He’s still city until he builds a house instead of buying someone else’s,” Jason says, smirking at me like he just delivered some mega insult I missed.

  “Kylie has an apartment, so that makes zero sense,” I point out.

  “You calling me stupid?” he asks, scowling.

  “No. I just think you have bad luck when you try to speak and think at the same time.”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, Jared Malone gets strangled on his drink, his body laughing and coughing at once, as the rest of the Malones dissolve into laughter, Kylie included.

  “If I wanted to hear from an asshole, I’d fart,” Jason grumbles, and I start laughing as well.

  The conversations moves along, and I join in on occasion, taking a few verbal digs and delivering a few of my own.

  As Kylie settles back on me, verbally sparring with Jared, I feel how relaxed and comfortable I am.

  Some people go their whole lives without ever figuring out where they fit in.

  Turns out, sometimes almost dying can save your life.

  A trooper car suddenly soars by,
two more close behind it, screams following their wake.

  Everyone turns to watch as another trooper comes “speeding” by on a…pink bicycle? He’s looking over his shoulder, panicking as he pedals like his life depends on it.

  That’s when we hear what sounds like an entire pride of lions or something roaring, screeching, and making other ferocious, feral cat sounds. I tense, ready to run Kylie inside, as the Malones all curse, including the girl in my lap.

  “Looks like the Nickels won this year,” Kylie groans.

  “We’ll never hear the end of it,” Jared grumbles as the bicycling trooper screams on a downhill slope and disappears from sight.

  I relax in my seat again, shaking my head.

  This isn’t just my Monday. This is my life.

  My arms tighten around Kylie’s waist, and she leans back to kiss me on autopilot as conversation resumes, all of them acting like none of that just happened.

  It’s a Monday I’ll remember.

  Chapter 22

  Wild Ones Tip #587

  It’d be easier to tell you to wear a helmet all the time instead of trying to guess when you might need one. Just don’t make it weird.

  LIAM

  “Has she tried to contact you since leaving?” I ask Kylie as her lips brush against my chest.

  “My mom?” she asks absently, her body relaxed against mine as I trace imaginary patterns on her bare skin. At my nod, she answers, “No. She knew there was no turning back when she walked away.”

  I pull her closer, but she pats my chest like she’s the one comforting me.

  “My dad really loved her, you know,” she goes on, snuggling closer. “But he says it was easy to get over her when she left like she did. No one expected George Malone to be able to raise his daughter on his own.”

  She grins like she’s fondly remembering her upbringing, and I stay quiet.

  “He did, though. He raised me on his own, and he mostly raised my cousins. Even when their parents were here, they still didn’t do much parenting. My dad kept the guys active. They didn’t have his blood, but they had his heart and his love for all things Tomahawk,” she goes on.