Going Wild (The Wild Ones 2)

Clearing my throat, I roll my eyes. “I can get new ones.”

The four Malones start laughing under their breath, and Kylie cuts her gaze to them.

“You can take him to change his shoes. We’ll save you some work,” Jason tells her, then gives me a bland look.

“The shoes are replaceable,” I quickly tell her before she argues and makes me look like more of a pansy.

They continue to laugh at me, so I point up at the flag you can see for miles away, since their pole is obnoxiously tall, and there are five of them lifted in the air—one for every Malone in attendance. I bet the bait shop has one in the air too.

“Just curious, why the beaver?” I ask, gesturing to the flags.

“Because we like beavers,” Jason quickly fires back, winking at me.

“Just wondering if it was someone’s way of labeling you all pussies and convincing you to wave the flag with pride.”

The second the words leave my mouth, all the lingering laughter dies. George Malone is the first to crack a smile before turning his head. Jason and Eric glare daggers through me. Heath is busy getting gum off the bottom of his shoe and completely oblivious to the new conversation.

Kylie bursts out laughing, doubling over, and I smirk as I wink at the two glaring Malones. They both mutter something I can’t hear, but I’m sure it’s a threat.

She grabs my hand, tugging me away, and I toss my arm around her shoulders.

Then…I spend several hours doing a lot of physical labor, watching her cousins get in no less than three fights, and her father kick the hell out of the barn door no less than fifteen times when it jams.

All the while, they rib each other and me. They laugh and joke. They eat lunch together and talk about their plans for the week. And they all weirdly include me.

My lips press to Kylie’s head during one of the shit-shoveling breaks, and she leans against me, tired as she kisses my neck.

“It’s not always like this. Most days are easy. It’s just Mondays that take the longest, because we do minimal of work on the weekends,” she assures me.

Before I can say anything, George Malone is coming around the corner with two bottles of water. He hands me one, and I drink it down as he talks to Kylie about the auction.

“Liam can join us,” he says, his eyes not bothering to meet mine.

Kylie just grins. “I’ll let him know,” she says seriously.

He scowls at her, then turns and faces me. “You can join us,” he tells me grudgingly.

“Thanks,” I say with a small grin. “I’d like that.”

He turns and walks away without another word, and I idly wonder what my life would have been like if I’d had a family like this. People who are just there. People who can fight one second, then talk to you like nothing is wrong in the next.

“Just another hour, and we can get out of here. I’ll take you to—”

I cut her off, kissing her as I pin her up against the tree, and she grins against my lips as she pulls me closer.

When we break the kiss, she gives me a curious look. “What was that for?” she asks.

“Monday,” is what I tell her before returning to the pile of shit I’ve almost gotten completely shoveled into the wagon. Because there’s a wagon being pulled by a jackass—a literal jackass.

This is my Monday.

By the time we’re finished, her dad has a tray of lemonade, and all the Malones, Jared included, are sitting down under a shade tree in a circle around a fire pit.

They’re laughing and talking, and two of the Malones are volleying insults at each other.

I take the last seat available, and tug Kylie onto my lap. No one bats an eye.

“So you’re officially a Tomahawk man now,” her dad tells me, lifting his glass as I chug down the lemonade, surprised by how good it is.

I nod, not bothering to open my mouth and say something that might get something thrown at my head. Never can tell with these people. It’s a family of sour patch kids.

“He’s not Tomahawk. He’s still city until he builds a house instead of buying someone else’s,” Jason says, smirking at me like he just delivered some mega insult I missed.

“Kylie has an apartment, so that makes zero sense,” I point out.

“You calling me stupid?” he asks, scowling.

“No. I just think you have bad luck when you try to speak and think at the same time.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, Jared Malone gets strangled on his drink, his body laughing and coughing at once, as the rest of the Malones dissolve into laughter, Kylie included.

“If I wanted to hear from an asshole, I’d fart,” Jason grumbles, and I start laughing as well.