Chapter 1 – Wilder
“You think that one’s pretty?” Dalton asks me, nodding towards a group of girls who’ve just entered the bar, laughing, and swaying drunkenly to the country music that’s playing from the old jukebox in the corner of Baxter’s Bar.
The girls are wearing tight, black dresses, with the one in the middle dressed in all white. A bachelorette party, I assume.
I glance over at the group, having no idea which of the women Dalton could be referring to. They all look pretty to me.
I shrug, and he grunts in response, looking back down at his beer and taking another gulp.
I haven’t spent much time thinking about women lately. Not that I’ve gone full-on celibate or anything, but sex isn’t something I’ve gone out of my way to pursue these past two years. Sure, plenty of girls have dropped hints about wanting to come back to my place on the Ashwood Ranch property, but that ranch is my sanctuary. It’s where I work, where I unwind. It’s not some casual hookup spot for strangers.
And then there’s Willow to consider.
Outside of my twin brother Cody and the rodeo, my best friend Dalton is the only person who can convince me to leave theproperty, step away from the animals, and trade the steady hum of machinery for the chaos of a Friday night drink. But even then, I’m just not interested in the whole routine. The small talk. The flirty back-and-forth. The pointless will-they/won’t-they that drags on until the inevitable happens.
Cody, though? He’s got that art down to a science. He skips right past the chit-chat and gets straight to the point, which usually ends with someone in his bed. He’s the wilder Cameron twin, which is pretty damn ironic, consideringmyname is Wilder.
Me? I’d rather be doing just about anything else. Reading a book, writing, playing guitar, or helping my dad with the livestock and land. Hell, even fixing a busted fence sounds better than pretending I care about some bar flirtation.
Honestly, I’d just rather be left the hell alone.
Talking is something that I’ve never been good at. Words, yes. But talking, no.
Sure, I’ve had some lonely nights where I’ve considered how nice it'd be to have a warm body in bed next to me. Twenty-two years old and living in Lonestar Junction on a ranch miles away from civilization can cause those thoughts to creep in. My closest companions are the horses and cattle that we raise. And it isn’t that I don’t want to find a woman to date; it just feels like a lot of effort for not much reward. That and my life is complicated right now. I don’t need any more hassles.
My eyes drift back to the side of the bar where the group of girls have gathered and are now talking excitedly as an old Tim McGraw song starts to play. One of the servers heads their way to take orders while the blonde one starts belting out the lyrics at the top of her lungs, painfully off tune.
“You want another round?” I ask Dalton, whose eyes are still discreetly watching the group. He grunts as I stand up, swiping his empty glass and head to the bar without another word.
That's the thing I’ve always appreciated about my friendshipwith him— we can hang out and not feel like we need to make small talk to fill the silence. Just sitting in a bar across from each other makes us feel like we’re being social and like we aren’t the introverts we really are who would much rather be at home away from the noisy crowds. You see, I believe that most people talk too damn much yet have nothing to say.
“Hey Krissy, can I get two more Buds?” I ask, holding up two fingers to the red-headed bartender we went to school with four years ago who’s currently working the small space. She smiles and grabs two frosted glasses from under the wooden slab and props them in front of her.
I lean one elbow on the grain, my eyes scanning the familiar space and finding the bachelorette group once again. This time though, I notice there’s a brunette among the sea of blondes that makes up the loud party. She looks like the black sheep sticking out of the group. Her dress is slightly different, a little longer, hitting mid-length but still tight in all the right places, showing off a curvy figure and athletic build. While her friends are all wearing their blonde hair down, the brunette’s is piled high on her head in a messy bun, as if she ran out of the house, hair still wet, and just threw it up without a care about how she looked tonight.
It’s a hot-as-shit July day so I think she has the right idea. The other girls must be sweating in here. The owner of the bar, Baxter, never likes turning the air conditioning on. Thinks it draws inthe wrong type of crowd.Whatever the hell that means.
“New pussy,” Krissy speaks, gesturing with her eyes to the group of ten girls.
I don’t reply to her. Krissy has always felt the need to fill every silence, even when words are unnecessary.
She sighs. “If you’re lonely, Wilder, my shift ends at two tonight…”
I scoff, taking the two glasses off the bar and turn to head backto Dalton, but before leaving, I lock eyes with her. “Let Ted know that I could use his assistance for the rodeo tomorrow night. An extra pair of hands to warm up the horses would be helpful.”
She rolls her eyes, pushing off the bar as she heads down to the other end to help a different guest, completely ignoring my comment.
That’s the other thing that’s held me back from taking interest in any women lately. No one seems to be faithful these days.
As I return to the booth where I left Dalton, I find a head peeking over the seat that I just left unoccupied.
“Hello,” I say as I set down the beer. It looks like it’s one of the girls from the group, a blonde with big brown eyes, who’s peering up at me. She's wearing a tight, black spaghetti strap dress and she looks young.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were sitting here.” She slides out of the booth and tosses a dazzling smile Dalton’s way. “Will you find me before you leave?” she asks him, batting her eyelashes excessively. Dalton nods, unable to form words before she turns with a giggle and hurries back to her group.
I slide into the seat she’d been keeping warm, raising my eyebrows at Dalton.
“Scarlett Givens. She’s nineteen-years-old,” he responds.
