Wilder (The Wild Ones 3)

I drive us toward Piper’s, wondering how much my mother is going to embarrass her today.

Yesterday, she examined her stomach in front of everyone in town. Then she measured it. And she wrote the measurements down in the baby book she’s carrying around.

Unbelievable.

Piper tried getting me to stay in with her to watch some old movies, but with how much cleavage she had showing, I knew it’d be a bad idea.

She doesn’t know what she does to me.

The day before that, she was just in her underwear when I showed up. Obviously, I apologized and walked out for her to change, but then she acted pissed the rest of the day while claiming she was fine. She didn’t act fine at all. I told her what time I’d be there. It’s not like it’s my fault she wasn’t dressed yet.

I’m not sure what the big deal was. I’ve seen her naked.

A groan escapes me, and then…I remember Ma is in the Jeep with me, and all feelings of lust get squashed real damn fast.

“The town really likes her. And she fits in so well with all you rowdy kids.”

“Ma, I’d hardly call me a kid. I’m closer to thirty than twenty these days,” I remind her on a tired sigh as I park in front of Piper’s cabin. “Behave the best you’re capable of behaving. Don’t measure her stomach. In fact, don’t touch her at all. Your lack of personal boundaries with people is just too much.”

“I don’t think I have personal boundary issues,” she says with a frown.

Arguing will get me nowhere with her on this matter, so I get out, hoping Ma doesn’t do something outrageous.

I knock really hard, just in case she’s not dressed. I don’t need her pissed at me again.

“Come in!” Piper says in a slightly high-pitched tone.

Why does she sound nervous?

I picture someone holding a gun to her head, so I shove inside, ready to beat someone to a pulp, and…

And…

And…

I don’t really know what to say or do.

Piper is bent over the kitchen counter, looking over her shoulder as she bites down on her finger. All she’s wearing is an apron.

All she’s wearing is an apron.

All…she’s…wearing is…an apron.

It’s pink.

It’s all she’s wearing. Did I mention it’s all she’s wearing? It’s a pretty important detail I can’t seem to look away from.

I sniff the air, wondering why there’s no scent of food. What’s she cooking?

Two powdered handprints are on her bare, perfectly round ass, and she blinks at me several times as my mouth opens and closes and—

All of the sudden, Piper screams, her eyes widen, and she falls to the floor as she scrambles around on her hands and knees, her bare, hand-printed ass still exposed, as she darts behind the couch. She falls before she’s hidden from sight and lands on her stomach, only confusing the actual fuck out of me as my mind tries to process what I’m seeing.

“Oh, dear. I interrupted baby making,” Ma states flatly, fanning herself as she stares at Piper’s ass that is still sticking out from behind the couch. “Or the abominable snowman got his hands on her ass before you could. One or the other,” Ma adds.

Piper whimpers and bounces to her knees, before crawling out of sight completely. Why was her entire body turning red? Is she okay? Is she sick? Why is she just wearing an apron?!

“I’m so sorry, Greta!” she shouts from behind the couch. “I had no idea you’d be with him.”

While I’m scratching my head, Ma slowly backs out of the house.

“Be patient with him. I raised a bunch of dummies,” she tells her before the door shuts.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

I guess it’s true that girls really aren’t ever ready on time. I’m sure as shit never letting my brothers come over here.

Wild Ones Tip #780

Regrets are for schmucks. You get one life. Live it with a helmet on.

Chapter 19

PIPER

*******

Kill. Me. Now.

Please.

Put me out of my misery.

“Go bold,” Reese said. “Make it impossible for him to misinterpret your actions if you’re too big of a chicken just to tell him what you want.”

This is what I get for not even knowing what I want and trying to skirt around having to talk about it. What am I doing?

“Piper? You okay?” Kai asks, sounding genuinely worried.

“Your mom just saw me mostly naked and thinks a yeti got his hands on me. No, Kai. No, I’m not okay,” I state through a whimper, feeling my entire body engulfed by the flames of pure, unadulterated shame.

This is possibly the most mortifying experience of my entire life.

The door cracks open, and I hear a loud throat-clearing. “I’ll just leave the onesie I brought by. Hopefully you’ll need it sooner than later,” Greta chirps.

The door abruptly shuts again, and I whimper into my elbow as my entire body burns that much more.