Twelve

Wilder

I needed to fuck. It had been too long. That was all this was. The dream had meant nothing—other than I was in dire need of sinking my dick into a willing cunt. One who wouldn’t expect anything from me. Who would go away after. Someone easy.

The doorbell rang, followed by Belladonna barking at the noise, interrupting my internal battle. The one where my damn subconscious had wanted to screw me up while I was asleep. As if I needed any more help in that area. Annoyed by whoever was at the door, I left my coffee that was still brewing in the kitchen to go see who was here to bother me. Sarah had been pouting for two days, and nothing I could do seemed to get her out of it. She was mad at me for not asking Oakley to come stay with her for the next two nights.

I had paid an ungodly amount to take her to Disney World on Halloween, and at least twenty times that night, she’d mentioned how much Oakley would have loved it.

Stalking to the door, angry that Oakley was causing issues with my relationship with my daughter and now my sleep, I hoped whoever had decided to bother me had a good fucking reason. Belladonna was wagging her tail with excitement as she stared at the door. She barked at me, as if to tell me to open the damn thing already. Impatient, happy dog. I grabbed the handle and jerked it open, not looking to see who it was first.

The blue eyes glaring at me with that fake bright smile on her stunning face tripped my temper over the thin line it had been balancing on. Belladonna pushed past me to get to our uninvited guest like she was a walking piece of bacon.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I seethed, wishing like hell the dream I’d had last night about fucking her like a crazed man in my shower wasn’t replaying in my head.

Damn her for always being a walking wet dream. Destroying men everywhere she went. Getting in their heads. Ruining their lives.

She didn’t balk at the threat in my voice. Instead, her smile widened, as if this were a friendly exchange. She squatted down and hugged Belladonna, whispering what a sweet girl she was and how much she’d missed her. Then, she stood up and pushed past me, walking into my house with a duffel bag in her hand.

“I’m here to stay with Sarah while you’re away. You can call Ms. Maynard and tell her you no longer need her assistance,” Oakley announced, as if she had the right to walk into my house, uninvited, and tell me who was going to watch my kid.

“Like hell you are. I didn’t ask you because I don’t want you here,” I replied. The snarl in my tone wasn’t necessary, but I was fucking pissed.

Oakley’s bag dropped with a thud to the floor, and then her hands went to her hips that flared beneath her tiny waist. Jesus Christ, was she not wearing a bra? I forced my eyes off her tits and met her heated gaze. She appeared as angry as I was. Who the hell cared? This was MY house. Sarah was MY kid.

“My niece texted me, upset. She misses me. I am here,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Of course she had. I should have assumed Sarah had told Oakley about this. Sarah told Oakley everything, it seemed. She rarely talked to me these days, and since she’d found out Ms. Maynard was coming to stay with her, she’d gone silent.

“Listen, Wilder. I know you hate me. I have been aware of that for years. But this isn’t about how you feel about me. This is about Sarah. SHE loves me. SHE is the only family I have. You trying to keep me away from her is going to hurt her. She’s had enough pain. Don’t cause her any more. It’s not like I am unfit to keep her. I’m sorry about the mural. Her room was just”—she stopped, and her eyes scanned the area around us—“as sterile as the rest of this house. I wanted her to feel like it was hers. Give it her personality.”

My hands fisted at my sides. This house had cost me more money than she would ever make in this lifetime. Sarah had everything she could want. I’d made sure of it.

Belladonna started growling at me. Why did she always take Oakley’s side? I fed her. Paid for her expensive dog food and the even more expensive groomer she had to go to biweekly.

“You think painting a mural in her room of your backyard was giving it her personality?” I snapped.

It was a damn good mural. Belladonna even looked real in it. As if it were a photo taken.

“Sarah chose what she wanted me to draw. I had been thinking unicorns and rainbows,” she replied, her face flushed now.

I hadn’t known Sarah had asked for that specific scene. I had assumed it was Oakley’s way of making sure she stayed in Sarah’s thoughts. Despite whoever had made the decision on the painting, it was amazing. Just like all of Oakley’s paintings were. She was talented, and her work should be hanging in art galleries. Not on stationery in an Etsy store. Not my fucking business though.

“You can hate me. Just don’t take it out on Sarah. I’ll always leave as soon as you arrive. Just like last time. You don’t have to see me. Interact with me. Heck, we don’t even need to speak to each other. But we have one thing in common. We both love Sarah and would do anything to make her happy. I would take a bullet for her, Wilder. You know that. I doubt Ms. Maynard could say the same.”

Dammit. She was right. I hated it as much as I hated her, but she was right. Who better to stay with Sarah than someone who not only made her happy, but also loved her as fiercely as I did? Giving in to this when Oakley had barged into my home didn’t sit well with me. I was Sarah’s parent. I decided who stayed with her. No one told me how to take care of my kid. But then, allowing Oakley to stay would get Sarah talking to me again and end her sulking.

“I don’t leave until five tonight,” I informed her.

There was no fucking way I was letting her stay in this house with me all day. I had work to do, and I was already struggling with the sex dream I’d had of her last night. I wanted her out of my sight. At least for now.

Oakley shrugged. “That’s fine. I need to go buy some baking supplies, get some decorations for this house because it’s just sad, and it’s time to start thinking about Christmas. Then, I can pick her up from school and surprise her.”

I was sure Barry would love that. He’d asked me if he could have her number last week. The look I had given him shut him up. He should be thanking me from saving him from her. Not that he had a chance. Oakley was in a league well above the one Barry Powell dwelled in.

“Thanksgiving isn’t until next week,” I pointed out.

Oakley rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, this place needs some holiday cheer early. Besides, watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade is better with Christmas decorations up.”

“We will be at my mom’s on Thanksgiving Day,” I pointed out, and she’d have her fucking tree up. I didn’t say that though.

Oakley turned her face to look away from me. “Of course you will,” she replied, her voice tight.

What was her issue with my mom? She’d never met her. Thank fuck because my mom would love her.

“Can I leave my bag here, or do I need to take it to the car and bring it in when I come back with Sarah after school?” she asked, swinging her gaze back to mine.

I looked down at the thing. “Take it to the guest bedroom across from Sarah’s. That’s where she will want you.”

Oakley nodded. “Thanks. Will do. Now, go back to working, and I will be gone and out of your hair. It’ll be like I was never here.”

If it were only that damn easy.

Ten Years Ago

It was raining when I pulled up to get Oakley. I’d gotten here early, not wanting her to stand in the rain, waiting on me. The past month of getting her after cheer practice had been the best one of my life.

Wells wasn’t speaking to me. She’d broken up with him. He cried like a damn baby. It was dramatic as fuck for someone who had been cheating on her for months. He claimed the other girls meant nothing. Oakley just wouldn’t have sex with him, and he needed it. He had been trying to give her time and not pressure her. So, he had fucked other girls. In his head, that twisted shit made sense. To Oakley, it hadn’t. Thankfully.

When he had found out I was getting her after practice and he’d seen us getting ice cream one afternoon, he hadn’t taken it well. He got out of his Mustang and started cursing me, and then he made the mistake of getting in my face. My reaction could have been better, but I hadn’t hurt him. There was that at least. I’d just warned him. Thoroughly. To back the fuck down. He did. Now, he acted as if we were both invisible, and I didn’t care. It seemed that she didn’t either.

The door to the gym opened, and she came running out with a tight white tank top on and a pair of those ridiculously short shorts that could have been panties for all they covered. I was instantly hard. I couldn’t help it. I was attracted to her on several levels. The first being the obvious—Oakley Watson was a smokeshow. The second being that I liked her. I enjoyed being around her. She was witty and smart. She made me laugh and was always up for an adventure.

Stopping in the rain, she spun in a circle, throwing her head back and letting it hit her face before continuing her race to my truck. Things like that. The uninhibited joy she seemed to always possess. As if nothing in the world could get her down. I wanted some of that. Being close to her made me feel as if I had it too.

When she opened the passenger door and climbed in, my gaze dropped to her wet white tank top. Thank God she was wearing a bra. It was pink. I wondered if her panties matched.

“If you were truly chivalrous, you would have met me at the door with an umbrella,” she announced with a bright smile, the scent of her sweet lotion filling up my truck.

“But then you wouldn’t have been able to dance in the rain,” I pointed out.

She brushed the wet hair back off her face. “True.”

Her shirt wouldn’t have been wet and clinging to her cleavage either. I didn’t say that though. Instead, I reached into the backseat and grabbed the towel I had brought with me, just in case she got out early and was wet.

“Here,” I said, handing it to her, then turning on the heat so she didn’t get chilly.

“Ah, my hero,” she replied, taking it and drying off her face and hair before moving down to her chest.

I tore my eyes off her. I didn’t need to watch that. She already starred in every damn fantasy I had in my morning shower.

“Buckle up,” I told her, shifting the truck into drive.

“Tell me one good thing that happened today.”

This was what she asked me every day when she got in the truck, and every day, I wanted to say, You. I never did. That would be crossing a line I wasn’t going to touch.

“Can’t think of anything,” I told her.

“Hmm, that’s just sad. Let’s fix it. Drive to the Taco Barn. We can eat tacos until we’re sick.”

Which meant she was going to eat three.

Any reason to stay with her longer I would take. I might not allow myself to touch her, but I would soak in her presence all that I could. In the fall, she’d leave me. Go off to college. Guys would flock to her. She’d meet one, fall in love, get married. With those thoughts, my mood soured considerably.