The Simple Wild (Wild 1)

Bobbie gives me a polite smile—one that says she was hoping for a juicier answer than that—and then finishes ringing up the rest of my groceries.

My eyes bulge at the final tally as I count out the bills. How do two bags of groceries cost that much?

Bobbie laughs. “That’s some sticker shock, huh? Well, you enjoy your time in Alaska, Calla. And be careful,” she warns, nodding Jonah’s way, “or that one will charm you so much, you won’t want to leave.”

“Yes, I’m already struggling to control myself.” My voice drips with sarcasm.

Her head crooks, confusion filling her face.

And my mouth drops. “Oh my God, you’re not kidding.”

An awkward chuckle sails from her thin lips. “Make sure you send that husband of mine home right after work, Jonah. He gets to talking and next thing he knows, the sun has gone down.”

Jonah throws a flat-faced wink her way as he scoops up the grocery bags in one arm, his biceps straining beneath his cotton sleeve. “Will do.”

I trail him out, cradling the bouquet of near-spent flowers, feeling countless eyes on my back.

I can’t help myself. “So, if you’re charming, what would Bobbie consider an asshole?”

“There’s one right now.”

I follow his nod and find a reflection of myself in a window.

He’s quick with the comebacks, I’ll give him that much.

Jonah peers up to the sky, squinting, and I can tell he’s searching for a looming rain cloud.

“People really obsess about the weather around here.”

“Why wouldn’t they? Strong winds, thick fog, too much rain or snow . . . any of it will ground us for hours, a day. Even longer, sometimes.” His boots scrape along the dusty ground. “People rely on planes for food, medicine, doctors, mail. Everything.”

I try to ignore the heavy gazes of two teenaged boys of maybe sixteen, with cans of Coke in their hands, gawking openly at me. “And they stare even more than they obsess about the weather,” I mutter, more to myself.

“They’re not used to seeing a real, live Barbie doll is all.”

I frown. Did he just call me . . . “I am not a Barbie doll!”

“No?” He gives me a sideways glance, amusement in his eyes. “Fake hair, fake face, fake nails . . .” His eyes dip to my chest before flashing away. “Is anything on you real?”

My jaw drops. “These are not fake!” And I’ve never had anyone insinuate otherwise. They’re not even particularly impressive.

“I don’t care one way or the other. You wondered why they’re staring at you. That’s why,” he says in a bored tone. He pops the hatch of his SUV, and then sets the grocery bags in.

And I simply gape at him, astonished. At least twenty-five ­people said hello to him in Meyer’s. All those little waves and friendly greetings, as if people are actually happy to see him. Bobbie called him charming. Agnes claims he’s a teddy bear. Ethel talks about him like he walks on water.

Am I in some sort of alternate universe?

One where everyone else sees Jonah in one way and I see the truth?

“Have I done something to make you not like me?” I finally blurt out.

He chuckles darkly. “No. I just know your kind and I’ve never had much patience for it.”

“My kind?”

“Yup.” He slams shut the gate of his SUV and turns to settle a stony gaze on me, his muscular arms folded over his chest. “The shallow, self-absorbed, entitled kind.”

My mouth hangs open for three beats. “You don’t know anything about me.”