Wild At Heart (Wild 2)

Chapter Nineteen

“We need a new truck,” I lament, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, my biceps tensing as I turn into the parking lot of Burger Shack. It’s empty of cars and riddled with potholes.

“Nah. Just need to fix the power steering,” Jonah says from the passenger seat, his focus on the local newspaper in his grip. “We’ll have ’em look at it when they fix the taillight.”

“It’s ancient.”

“It’s got power windows.” Unlike the SUV Jonah drove in Bangor. But he had an excuse for driving it there. In a place where vehicles are brought in by boat, you hold on to whatever you can find until the engine takes its final breath. Anchorage has every dealership imaginable, albeit pricier.

Still, there is no excuse for keeping this leaking, creaking, duct-tape-covered beast.

I come to a stop in what might be a parking spot, if there were actual lines painted on the gravel. There’s no sign of these local runners Muriel set me up with, but we’re ten minutes early, to give myself a chance to warm up. “I was thinking something bigger, manlier.”

Jonah pauses his reading to frown at me. “You’ve gone from wanting a Mini Cooper to something manlier?”

I roll my eyes. “Not for me. For you.”

He moves back to his paper. “I told you, this is good for me.”

“Of course, it is.” I let my focus wander. A thin, older man jogs past, a black Labrador on a leash keeping pace next to him. Maybe that’s what I need—a dog to keep me company when I’m outside. “Fine. But I want something nicer to drive.”

“Like what?” He drops the newspaper again. “And don’t say a fucking Mini Cooper or I swear to God, Calla, I’ll find more crash pics to send.” There’s no hint of amusement in his voice.

“I was thinking a Jeep. A Wrangler. They’re supposed to be good in snow.”

Jonah makes a grunting sound that could be approval, but also might not be. “Hardtop, right?”

“I think soft, actually. They say it’s easier to take off—”

“Bears can tear right through canvas.”

“Hardtop, it is.”

He smiles. “How much are they?”

I press my lips together, deciding how I want to answer, given the fight we just had yesterday over my spending. “More than the hot tub.” Especially with the leather interior and all the bells and whistles the website let me choose.

He studies me a long moment, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to start giving me a hard time. “Get your license first, and then maybe we can go check out the dealership. You should test drive one before you make any decisions.”

“Yeah. That’s smart.” I leave the keys in the ignition and hop out of the driver’s seat, inhaling deeply. It’s overcast, but not raining. The morning air, though crisp, is clean. It’s a nice day to run.

The passenger door slams shut behind me and Jonah’s boots drag across the gravel, sending stones skittering.

“What are you going to do while I’m out running?” I ask, stretching my legs.

“A few errands.”

I glance over my shoulder to find him leaning against the hood of the truck, his thumbs hooked in his pockets, his steady gaze on my ass. I spin around to face him, ending his show. “Pervert.”

“You don’t know the half of it …” He flashes a wicked smirk that makes my heart race and my cheeks flush and a thrill course through my core. We’ve been living together for almost five months, and he can still cause an instant reaction in my body with a single look. Enough that I’d be willing to skip this run with strangers and find a private spot to christen this old truck.

I clear my throat. “Errands?”

He grins, as if he can read my thoughts. “I figured I’d go and see about Muriel’s list of demands.”

I groan. “How did I get myself into this?” Toby sent a text last night with an itemized list—manure, triple mix, and seeds for everything from carrots to squash to pumpkins—that Muriel wants me to have at the house by Monday. He also apologized if his mother seems a bit controlling. That choice of words made me laugh.

“You did mention trying out gardening, didn’t you?” Jonah reminds me.