Wild Child, Page 3

  “It all looks wonderful, thank you.”

  “So, today you’ll just be filling out a bunch of forms. I’ll give you all your training modules, you’ll meet all the lawyers and staff, and then tomorrow, we’ll get to work.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Take a seat—” she waves to the chair “—and I’ll get everything you need.”

  I take a seat, excitement bubbling in my chest, and I watch as Sandra leaves the office. I run my fingers over the laptop, over the phone, and all the new stationery sitting on the shiny, wooden desk and I give a happy little squeal of joy. Everything is coming together, and I’m so excited. Nothing could go wrong, not when I feel this good.

  My day flies past so quickly that when it’s home time, it seems like I haven’t been here all that long. I pack up, say goodbye to everyone, and then head home. I arrive just as the sun is beginning to set. It was a long day. I’m glad for now I’m only doing three, maybe four, a week. I’d be exhausted otherwise, at least until I got used to it.

  When I pull up at my cabin, I can see Steph standing on Slade’s porch. The two of them face to face, her arms are flying around everywhere. Oh, boy. That looks ... not good. I get out of the car, and her voice hits me right away, echoing across the open space. I suppose that’s the problem with being so close with no city noise around, everyone can hear everything.

  “Fuck you, Slade. I’m not a damned sex toy. I’m not going to do this forever!”

  “Never asked you to,” he growls.

  “I’m a person! Do you hear me? A person!”

  Oh, boy. Lovers tiff. I can’t say I blame her—she’s angry, frustrated, confused, and there he is, arms crossed, staring at her like she’s nothing more than a thorn in his side. I’d be frustrated, too. God, I’d want to kick him right in the ...

  “They always have this argument.”

  I spin around and see Ryder staring up at me, a big stick in his hand that by the looks of the trail behind him, he’s been dragging through the dirt. He’s grubby, but happy. Like kids should be. He’s obviously been out exploring. I’m not sure I’d let my child out there alone, but maybe they know the area well. I don’t. So, I guess I can’t judge.

  “Hi, Ryder,” I say after a few minutes. “Where have you been?”

  “Just beyond the trees. I made a little fort there with sticks and leaves. You should come and see it one time.”

  I raise my brows, impressed. “That’s clever, I don’t think I could do that.”

  He smiles up at me. “You’re really pretty. Prettier than Steph. You should talk to, ah, Slade.”

  Interesting he calls his father Slade. Maybe the two aren’t close? Curiosity burns, but I don’t say anything. It’s not my business why the little boy doesn’t call him dad.

  “No, thanks, honey. Slade is far too angry for me.”

  Ryder pouts. “He’s not always like that. Steph is always yelling at him.”

  I can see why.

  I do not tell the little boy this.

  “Well, I guess people fight when they’re, well ...”

  Ryder giggles, and I glance down at him. “When they’re friends that sleep over, and she wants to be more than friends?”

  I narrow my eyes and grin. “You’re too smart. You shouldn’t know these things.”

  He shrugs. “I hear everything, it’s not hard around here.”

  “Hmmm,” I murmur and look back to see Steph storming back to her cabin.

  Well, that obviously didn’t end well.

  Slade looks in this direction, and barks out, “Ryder.”

  “I guess it’s time for me to go in. See my fort soon?”

  I nod and smile at him again. “Of course, buddy.”

  He disappears, and I hold the angry glare of Slade.

  I raise my brows.

  He doesn’t look away.

  God. Could he get anymore intense?

  ~*~*~*~

  “I thought you could use a listening ear,” I say, holding up a big container of freshly-baked muffins that I picked up on my way home from work. I was going to sit on the sofa and eat a few while watching my favorite television shows, but it looked like Steph could use someone to talk to – so I came over here instead.

  Steph stares at them, then at me, and nods. “I really could. You heard that fight earlier, huh?”

  “I think half of Colorado Springs heard it, so it’s safe to say that yes, I most certainly did.”

  She laughs. “Thanks for coming over, really. I was going to make some hot chocolate and head your way soon, too.”

  “Well, great minds think alike.”

  I walk inside and set the muffins on the kitchen counter while she gets busy preparing hot chocolate.

  “How was your first day at work?” she asks me.

  “We’ll get to that soon,” I say, waving her off with a wiggle of my brows. “First ... Slade?”

  She exhales, leaning her elbows against the kitchen counter and staring over at me. “He’s just so frustrating. He won’t even sleep with me at the moment. He says I’m too attached and I knew that wasn’t what he wanted. What the hell did he think was going to happen? Is he stupid? Are men stupid? They all know sleeping with one woman is going to eventually lead to an attachment of some sort, right?”

  I nod. “I think sometimes they’re a little behind in the times. They seem to think we can stay detached, but honestly, there are very few that can.”

  She puts her head in her hands. “I really like him. What am I supposed to do? I don’t want to just stop seeing him. I mean, we live next door. But, obviously, he’s making it clear it isn’t going to go anywhere. I’m just damaging myself hanging around.”

  “Do you love him?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “Gosh, no, but I do like him and I wanted to get to know him. He’s given me nothing to love about him. If anything, I should hate the man.”

  I ponder this. “So, maybe the best option is to pull away for a while? You never know, he might come running back?”

  She shakes her head, meeting my eyes. “Trust me, Slade doesn’t chase anyone. He doesn’t have to. He used to have women over all the time. He’ll have me replaced within the week.”

  Jerk.

  “Then he isn’t worth your time,” I say, feeling frustrated for her. What a dick.

  “No, he certainly isn’t, but I was enjoying it, you know? I was hoping ... I don’t know ... that he’d open up to me.”

  Ah. She wanted to save him. To be the woman that changed it all. The problem with that is, it’s a big thing that’s been built up by movies and books, but it’s rarely ever real. The woman that comes along and changes a man, who makes him realize he can love and be kind. No. Men like Slade are set in their ways, and there isn’t much that’ll ever change that.

  “I’m sorry,” I offer, because it’s all I can think of.

  She shrugs. “Screw him. I’ll show him what he’s missing. He has to live next door to me for a while yet, after all.”

  I laugh. “That’s the spirit, sister.”

  “Do you ...” She looks away, then looks back at me. “Do you think I’m enough?”

  My brows go up. “You can’t be serious? You’re gorgeous, Steph. And I don’t know you well, but you’re lovely and kind. Don’t let him being a jerk make you feel any less. Don’t take it. Don’t ever let another person dictate your worth.”

  She smiles, but I know she’s doubting herself, she’s doubting if she’s enough. That’s what those kinds of situations do to a person, they make them wonder why they’re not good enough and that’s never OK. I make a mental note to have a word with Slade. He can’t spend the rest of his life leading women on. If he wants to sleep with them, fine, do it and do it once, then be done.

  Don’t do it repeatedly.

  Poor Steph.

  I talk with her for another few hours and then wish her goodnight and leave. As I’m walking past Slade’s house, I see him on his front porch, talking on the phon
e. I hesitate, and then think screw it, and turn, walking toward his cabin. He sees me coming, ends his call, and watches as I stomp up his front steps, stopping right in front of him. I have to tip my head back to see him.

  I raise a hand and poke my finger into his chest. I’ve never been shy about letting people know what I think of them. My dad used to say it was a problem, but it’s gotten me through life with a hell of a lot of respect because I don’t tend to keep any losers around, it’s a good way to weed them out and bring only good people into my world.

  “Girls are not toys. They are people. They have feelings. You don’t pick them up, screw their brains out, and then keep doing it. They will get attached to you. Any male knows this, unless that male is completely stupid. Now, unless you’re stupid, then you know Steph liked you. You shouldn’t have kept calling her back. That makes you a jackass. A big, big, big jackass.”

  He stares down at me, and then slowly raises a hand, curling it around my wrist and removing my finger from his chest. Then he murmurs, in a low, husky tone, “Are you finished?”

  Actually, I’m not.

  “No. You owe her an apology. She didn’t deserve to be treated like some sort of ... blow up doll.”

  He snorts, and under the light on his porch, I see the muscle in his jaw jump. His brown eyes, which look black right now, focus on mine and he leans down a little closer.

  “She came back. She chose to keep bringing her cute little ass over here. I told her from the second it started what it was, and I never, not for once single fuckin’ second gave her anymore hope. If she got attached—” he leans even closer until I can feel his warm breath against my mouth “—then that’s on her.”

  Oh, boy.

  Knees, stop wobbling. Calm yourselves.

  “Well,” I say, my voice far too shaky and breathy, “the second you saw she wanted more, you should have sent her on her way.”

  “I just fuckin’ did.”

  “Oh, come on,” I say, finding my voice again and taking a little step back. “You can’t be that stupid.”

  “Call me stupid again, see what happens to you,” he warns in a scratchy tone. “You haven’t even been here a week and you’re throwing your weight around. Be very careful, little girl.”

  Oh no he didn’t. “I’m not afraid of you, just because you’re bigger than Hercules and have a really, really bad attitude.”

  His brows go up. “That mouth is going to get you into a lot of trouble one day.”

  I wave a hand. “I’m not here to discuss my mouth, I’m here to discuss my friend. Stop leading women on, it’s not classy.”

  He stares at me.

  I stare at him.

  “That all?” he mutters.

  “That will be all. Goodnight.”

  I pivot and then hop down the stairs, feeling pretty darn good about myself.

  Hopefully, the big asshole will take some of my advice.

  At the very least, I got to poke him in the chest.

  That made me feel better, for Steph’s sake.

  FOUR

  “Can you move?”

  I stare up at the man, who is apparently my boss, and try to keep my face straight. He’s glaring down at me, like I’ve done something wrong to him, yet that’s impossible because this is the first day he’s been in the office and I’ve literally only just come in contact with him. I don’t even know if he knows who I am. All I know, without even having a conversation with him, is that he’s a jerk.

  He’s middle-aged, maybe only in his very early forties, with a mop of dark hair that’s slicked back on his head. His eyes are blue, set amongst olive skin. He’s toned, and, without a doubt, good looking. But arrogance radiates off him. The way he’s staring at me, like I’m nothing more than a burden he has to have around, much to his horror.

  I force a smile.

  Good impressions and all.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was in your way, sir,” I say, my voice calm and even. I step out of the way, and he moves to the filing cabinet in my office that I was just standing in front of.

  “Where’s Sandra?” he grumbles.

  “She’s gone out for lunch, I was just doing some filing for her. I’m the new trainee, Rachel ...”

  “I know who you are,” he mutters, glaring at me.

  Seriously, what have I done to this man?

  “Right, well, if you need anything-”

  “Coffee. Black. Hurry up.”

  With that, he turns and strides out. The urge to flip him the bird is strong, but I keep my twitching finger at bay. Instead, I take a shaky breath, straighten my shoulders, and go into the lunch room and make him a coffee. I resist yet another urge to spit in it, and instead plaster a big smile on my face and walk to his office, right at the end of the hall.

  Terrence Smith.

  I like his name. Shame about him.

  I knock carefully, and, after a moment, nobody answers, so I carefully push the door open. He’s sitting at his desk, and the receptionist, Cat, who I have only met once, is sitting on the corner, smiling down at him. Awkward. Anyone with two eyes can figure out exactly what’s happening here. Not my problem. Not my business.

  “Ah, I just have your coffee,” I say, taking a step into the office that smells like cheap perfume and cologne.

  “If you knock, and I don’t answer,” he growls, “then you do not come in.”

  I blink. “You asked me to make a coffee. Where would you require me to leave it, then?”

  “You wait.”

  I wait. Outside. With a hot coffee.

  He can’t be serious? Anger bubbles in my chest, but I squash it down. Calm. Be calm.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll just put this down and leave you to it.”

  I place the coffee on his desk.

  “There’s a coaster there,” he snaps, jerking his finger at a coaster.

  Do not punch your boss in the face, Rachel. It’s not acceptable.

  Don’t do it.

  Don’t.

  “Right, of course, sorry.”

  I place the coffee on his damned coaster, flash the fakest smile I’ve ever given in my life, and then turn, walking out as calmly as I can. It takes all my power not to slam the door. Taking a few calming breaths, I walk down the hall toward my office, entering it just in time to see Sandra sitting down. She looks over to me.

  “There you are. Have you had your lunch yet?”

  “I’m not all that hungry,” I say, my voice tight. “I’ll just finish up the filing.”

  “Is everything OK?”

  “Sure. I just got Terrence a coffee.”

  She smiles. “Ah, that’s good you’ve met him. Lovely, isn’t he?”

  I blink. Pardon me? Lovely? She has to be kidding? Is this some sort of test to see how well I can handle different situations? It has to be. There’s no way she could think that ... jerk in there is lovely. I could think of a thousand other words, but lovely certainly is not one of them.

  “He seems fine,” I say. “I’ll just get back to the filing.”

  “Of course.” She smiles, going back to her work.

  Nope. She’s not kidding.

  So, what the hell have I done to mega jerk in there to make him dislike me so much? Considering he doesn’t even know me, I can safely say nothing. And that just makes me angry.

  The rest of the day feels like it takes forever, and my bad mood worsens. By the time I leave the office in the afternoon, I’m ready for a bottle of wine and some alone time. Terrence plays on my mind all afternoon and the entire drive home. Seriously, what the hell is his problem? Is he just like that to all the new people, to see how hard he can push them? If so, that’s a really poor way of conducting business. He needs to learn some class.

  I arrive at home just as the sun is setting.

  Wearily, I get out of the car with my cheap bottle of wine I picked up in a hurry, along with Chinese take-out. It’s exactly what I need for the night. Just me, a heap of delicious food, and copious am
ounts of wine, maybe a call to my best friend, because I know she’ll put me back on the right path. I trudge up to the front porch and stop dead. My mouth drops open, the bottle of wine drops from my hand, and an unintentional scream leaves my throat.

  The coyote on my porch, that was rummaging through a bag I forgot to drop into the trash, lifts its head and looks at me. Oh. God. I’ve read stories about these things going savage on people. Now it’s looking at me. And a small growl escapes its throat. I don’t think. I throw myself off the patio, backward. I land with a thump on the ground below, knocking the wind out of myself.

  A gasp leaves my throat, my spine burns, my ribs ache, and I’m certain I hit my head. I lay there for a few minutes, gasping and making some strange pained noise in my throat. A gun shot goes off, and another scream escapes my throat. The scurry of the animal running from my porch can be heard, before a massive form appears over top of me, reaching down and hooking an arm around me, hauling me up. I gasp, coughing and wincing in pain. I think I grazed my knees and my elbows.

  I hate today.

  I hate it.

  “OK?” Hercules asks.

  I wince as I try to take a step away from his massive body. “I think I sprained my ankle.”

  “Come on.”

  He doesn’t hesitate; he leans down and scoops me up into his arms as if I weigh nothing. If I wasn’t in so much pain, or in so much shock, I’d probably protest. But there was just a wild animal on my porch, eating my trash, and I could have died. OK, that’s slightly dramatic, but all the same, it could have been a very real possibility.

  Still too dramatic.

  After a bit of fiddling, we get into the cabin and Slade flicks on the lights, walking over and placing me down on the sofa. I can see blood on my knees, and I can feel a sting on my elbows. My head hurts, not majorly, and my ribs are aching pretty heavily. I look up at the man squatting down in front of me, studying me. Did he kill it? I’d feel awful if he did. I mean, I left the trash there after all and it’s just an innocent animal. What if he injured it and now it’s dying slowly somewhere?