Wild Card (North Ridge #1)

“You don’t think so?” he asks.

I stare at the golden hairs on the back of his neck, wondering if my breath is tickling them. I wonder what would happen if I put my lips there. I wonder if these kinds of thoughts will ever go away or if I’m destined to think of Shane like this forever.

You love him. You love him, you love him.

I swallow. It feels like I have sawdust in my mouth. “Moonshine ran away on you. What if you never get him back?”

“Moonshine went right back to the stable. I promise,” Shane says confidently. Then he lowers his voice. “And maybe if we hadn’t seen the ravens, I would have never had the courage to kiss you.”

“Oh,” I say softly, my fingers pressing harder into him.

“And maybe you never would have kissed me back,” he adds. “And I don’t think I could have ever truly lived without knowing what your lips felt like.”

Oh my god. He’s being so romantic. My lips are starting to tingle just from his words.

“Shane,” I say to him, resting my head against the back of his shoulder.

“What?”

“What does this mean?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “That I kissed you?”

“Yeah. Are we still friends?”

“We’ll always be friends, Rachel,” he says, and his voice is deep and serious. “Always. But now, I hope we’re more. I like you. I like you a lot.”

“I like you a lot, too.”

“More than a friend?”

“Way more than a friend.”

It feels good to actually say it. So good. We ride in silence for a few moments and I close my eyes, breathing him in, feeling his heart beating through his back. I don’t ever want this ride to end.

“Shane?”

“Yeah?”

“What did you wish for on that wishbone? Remember?”

“I remember,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “But I can’t tell you.”

“That means it hasn’t come true yet.”

“No, it hasn’t.” He pauses. “But it will. One day, it will.”





8





Rachel





“Is there a Miss Rachel Waters in the house?” A low, gruff voice calls out.

I jump, totally startled, and finish soaking a hand towel in cold water before I turn off the kitchen tap and turn around to see an imposing silhouette standing in the doorway, holding a handful of Queen Anne’s lace.

“Fox?” I ask, pressing the cold compress against my forehead, trying to cool down. “Is that you or am I dreaming?” I walk toward him, more than surprised to see him.

“In the flesh,” he says, handing me the flowers. “Welcome back.”

I take the flowers with a big smile and find myself enveloped in a big bear hug. Like his brothers, Fox is tall and strong with muscles like a beast. I’m practically crushed against him.

“My god, you’ve turned into the Hulk,” I tell him. “Sweaty like him, too.”

He pulls back and looks down at himself, casually dressed in cargo shorts and a thin grey shirt that’s clinging to his sticky skin. “Actually, I’ve lost about twenty pounds this month. It’s been a fucking nightmare.”

“I can imagine. I don’t know how you do what you do.”

He shrugs. The man has one of the most dangerous jobs and yet never lets it go to his head. “This is the worst year for wildfires since the fifties or something. It’s getting so bad, we have firefighters from Mexico coming up to help us. New Zealand, even. I’m lucky I even got a couple days off to come home. Just enough time to rest and eat before I’m sent out again.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” I tell him shyly. Fox was always the most intimidating of his brothers and the relationship between him and Shane was strained at times for a few reasons, but I’ve always liked the guy. He can be really unpredictable and has a temper that sometimes gets the best of him, but he’s honest and intuitive and genuinely cares about people. I guess you’d have to if you’re willing to risk your life for them day in and day out.

“The moment I heard you were in town, I had to come see it with my own eyes. You’re looking good. Really good. I can’t believe it’s been that long.”

“At first it felt like I’d been gone for a million years, but now that I’m here…”

“It’s like you never left.”

“Exactly. Except it’s way hotter than I remember.”

I pick up the wet dish towel and press it against the back of my neck, my hair piled high on top of my head. It’s already warm to touch.

“You really need an air conditioner in this old place,” Fox says, looking around. “I’ll tell Dad it’s a worthy investment. I’m sure Shane could set it up pretty quick.”

“I’m sure he has enough to do,” I tell him, taking the flowers into the kitchen and filling up a vase with water.

Fox lingers by the door. “Have you talked to him?”

“Shane?” I place the flowers in the vase and put it on the middle of the kitchen table. Pretty.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, we’ve exchanged some words,” I tell him. Other than the first day I came to Ravenswood, I actually haven’t seen him. Either I’ve gotten really good at avoiding him or he’s gotten really good at avoiding me.

“But have you really talked?”

I frown as I glance at him. “About what?”

“About what happened.” I don’t say anything and wait for him to go on. “Look, I know it was a long time ago and you’re probably over it but…I don’t think Shane is.”

I let out a dry laugh. “I doubt that. I think Shane was over it, over me, way before it happened. Besides, I know he went out with Kristen McGee.”

Fox scratches at his dark beard and grins. “I’m pretty sure he did that just to try and get under my skin. Didn’t work, of course.” He clears his throat, his features growing serious. “I don’t want to get involved with Shane’s life, nor yours, but honestly…there’s a lot more to this than you think.”

His words stab at me and I look at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

He opens his mouth to say something but stops and turns around, listening.

I peer around him. Speak of the devil. Shane is coming up from the house, heading toward us, dressed in jeans, cowboy boots, a black t-shirt with the White Zombie logo on it, and a cowboy hat. His skin is dark and golden from long hours in the sun, his eyes trained on the ground. When he’s hanging around in town, Shane wears stuff straight out of the 90’s grunge era but when he’s on the ranch and working, he’s in full-on cowboy mode.

Fox gives me a look that says me he’ll tell me later. Or maybe that look doesn’t mean that at all.

“Hey,” Shane says as he approaches us, stopping a few feet from the porch. I look at him briefly, the swipe of dirt across his cheekbone, the trickle of sweat at his throat. My stomach feels fuzzy and light just from looking at him.

This isn’t good.

“Hey,” Fox says. “How are you?”

“Not too bad.” Shane looks over at me and nods, then looks back to Fox. “Dad told me you wanted the shoes off?”

“I think it would help.”