Wild At Heart (Wild 2)

And if it ever stops snowing.

With my spirits low enough to threaten tears, I wash down a few Advil with a mouthful of water and burrow under the comforter.

* * *

The shrill sound of the hotel phone pierces the silence, stirring me from a restless sleep before noon. It’s the front desk, telling me that my luggage has arrived. Relief amid frustration. It doesn’t last long, though, as I check my flight on my phone to see that it’s been delayed another hour. On the bright side, it hasn’t been outright canceled. Yet.

There are no more texts from Jonah, though I’m not surprised. I don’t normally hear from him when he’s at work. Still, it doesn’t help my mood. Neither does my growling stomach.

There is, however, a text from my mom, with a selfie of her and Simon on the beach, toasting to the camera, pasty-white-skinned and smiling.

Maybe I should have listened to her and gone to Turks. I wouldn’t be spending Christmas with a stuffed grizzly bear watching over me while I eat.

I push that sour thought aside and get ready—yanking on my same traveling clothes from yesterday, brushing my teeth, pulling my hair into a quick topknot, and swiping my mascara wand across my lashes.

How funny it is that I wouldn’t be caught dead barefaced six months ago, before Jonah intruded on my life. My appearance seemed vastly more important to me in the grand scheme of things then than it does now.

I throw open the door, intent on grabbing breakfast along with my things.

And gasp at the scruffy-faced male figure leaning against the wall, his tall, muscular body draped in a heavy plaid winter coat overtop layers of fleece, his ash-blond hair capped with a black beanie. His piercing icy blue eyes are locked on me.

“What are you doing here!” I exclaim, as waves of relief course through my limbs.

“Take a wild guess.” Jonah’s gruff voice rattles in my chest. God, I’ve missed hearing it in person.

“But I thought … the storm—”

“There was a decent break, so I took it, flew low, and prayed it would hold.” His gaze skates over my hair, my nose, my mouth, stalling there.

“Was it bad?”

“Would you get over here already?” He heaves himself off the wall, taking a step toward me.

I dive into his chest, savoring the feel of his hard body against mine and the smell of him—spearmint gum and woodsy soap—as our lips find each other in a welcoming kiss. “My flight’s delayed.”

He curls his arms around me and pulls me tight to him, his bristly hair scratching against my skin as he bends to dip his face into the crook of my neck. He inhales deeply and then lets out a contented sigh. “I know. The airport’s a mess. Tons of people trying to get places for Christmas.”

I close my eyes. “I can’t believe you’re here.” Suddenly, spending our first Christmas together at the dead-animal hotel doesn’t seem so appalling.

“Of course, I’m here. As if I was gonna let you get stuck, alone, on Christmas.”

“So, I’ll fly back with you, then?”

“We’re not going back that way today.” There’s an edge to his voice, one that makes me think the trip here over the mountains was far worse than he’s letting on. And Jonah is fearless when it comes to flying.

A part of me wants to reprimand him—what if he had crashed?—but a bigger part is overwhelmed with emotion that he made the risky trip for me.

“I love you,” I blurt before I can give it too much thought.

Several beats pass before Jonah pulls away, far enough to meet my gaze, a curious look in his.

I hold my breath, suddenly afraid that I’m going to have to add this moment to the top of my growing list of

things that have gone terribly wrong so far with this move.

“I was wonderin’ how long it’d take you to get up the nerve to say it. Especially after you chickened out at the airport.” He brushes an errant strand of hair off my face. “Thought I might have to wait forever.”

My mouth hangs open for a moment. “You knew?”