Going Wild (The Wild Ones 2)

I’m almost positive that mountain lion screech is not actually a mountain lion, but a very pissed off Krysta Nickel instead.

I give a little wave to Janice Holland, and she starts to slow down, no doubt wanting some juicy gossip since she heard Liam is here for me. I’m ready to tell her he’s my stalker and he’s crazy over me, so she’ll report it to all the nosy assholes with pretty daughters who have way too much interest in Liam.

But…she gasses it when she notices Nila at my side.

“I don’t think she likes you. No way would she pass up the chance to grill me about Liam if you weren’t standing right here.”

“She’s terrified of me,” Nila says with a proud grin.

“We’re going to kill you,” Lilah groans, and I turn to see her climbing out of the ditch as Krysta pulls twigs from her hair and glares at us.

“It was us or you. I’m sure you understand since you two sent us into the ditch the last time that happened,” Nila says with a grin, not even bothering to look back as she struts down the road in her ripped up jeans, raccoon tank top, and mountain boots.

I’m in my “feed the beaver” shirt, because it’s just that kind of day.

We make it to the boats without anyone else going ditch-diving, and Krysta and Nila get boarded on Nila’s boat, while Lilah and I get on hers. As they pull away, Lilah takes the driver’s seat and swivels to face me when I get us untied.

“Am I taking you home or to Liam’s?” she asks, a challenging glint in her eyes. “He’s too much man to fit in that tiny little apartment of yours.”

What she’s really asking is if I’m a coward or fearless.

Which is really unfair. She knows I hate being called a chicken. That’s how I have that rose tattoo on the crack of my ass. It was really awkward for Jenny—the ex tattooist—and myself when I got that done all because Krysta called me a chicken.

“Actually, I want to go somewhere else,” I tell her, digging out the piece of paper in my pocket that I swiped from Liam’s bedside table.

“What’s this?” Lilah asks as she reads the address.

“Just drive, Lilah.”

“To an address? I don’t even know my own address.”

I blink at her. “It’s about a mile away from my dad’s. Just drive.”

***

“So he’s building this?” Lilah asks as we both stare—gawk, really—at the cabin in the making.

There’s a lot more progress than Liam alluded to.

He must have paid a small fortune to get a cabin almost completely built—especially one this size—in such a small amount of time. He’d need half an army to do this, and tons of material. All the electrical even seems to be done.

The inside is still raw, which means it’ll still be a while before it’s done, and there aren’t any doors or windows, but…the outside is almost finished.

And I can’t even…

“And he’s modeled it off your painting?”

“Yeah.”

“And you still wonder if he’s in Tomahawk to stay?”

“This is pocket change to him. No monetary amount can be considered a commitment from him. You should have seen his home in LA. If he can leave that—”

“I get it, Kylie,” Lilah says, interrupting me quietly as we both walk into Liam’s cabin.

My hand goes over the polished cedar, smiling softly as I move inside.

“Your mom left. Your cousins’ parents both left. You have trust issues. Understandably so. But—”

“So help me, if you say I need to follow my heart, I will punch you in the tit,” I warn her.

“Which tit?” she asks seriously.

“The left one, of course. I know you favor the right.”

She nods like that’s acceptable.

“Anyway, I was going to say—”

“He’s moving fast, Lilah,” I state quietly, looking around at the large rooms as I take a deep breath.

“Which is perfect, because you move fast,” she reminds me. “You and I were best friends immediately. However, you struggle to even attempt to make friends outside of the Wild Ones. You keep your circle too tight because you don’t want to risk getting attached too fast. You won’t even get another pet since that hamster died.”

“Because I become painfully invested and attached,” I remind her.

“And Liam is the first guy to ever get too close, and he did it way quicker than you planned for,” she goes on. “Which should tell you something. Aunt Penny said she was stuck to Uncle Bill after meeting him once.”

I say nothing as I sit down in what I assume is going to be the living room, avoiding the lumber piles and haphazard tools lying around with no particular order.

Lilah sits down beside me, nudging my shoulder with hers, and I hold my silence.

“Give it a few weeks, Kylie. See if what’s between the two of you is what you’ve built it up to be in your heads. What can it really hurt?”