Page 29 of Drive Me Wilde

"Well, we talk sometimes, the young man and me. I know the rest of the town thought those boys were trouble, but I think theyjust needed the right person to love them. Heaven knows they weren't getting that from their dad."

And then it hits me. "So, one of the Wilde brothers has been putting flowers on my dad's grave?"

"Yes, the handsome one with the pale blue eyes. Such a nice young man." And there I have my answer. There is only one Wilde brother with light blue eyes. Jameson has been putting flowers on Dad's grave. My reaction is a mix of anger and bewilderment. Seems like that's my usual reaction whenever Jameson comes up in conversation.

I leave the cemetery chewing on this new piece of information and still don't know if I'm angry or just shocked. I climb on the bike. It's easier to ride without clutching flowers, and without giving it any thought, I find myself heading in the direction of Jameson's house.

The wind burns my cheeks, and I'm breathing embarrassingly hard by the time I reach his street. His truck is in the driveway. I stop at the entrance to the street and put my feet down, balancing the bike between my thighs. It's entirely possible that deep down I was hoping he wouldn't be home, but now I'm here, and so is his truck. I hop back on the seat and let the bike mostly roll down the street to his house.

I can feel my heart beating in my chest, and it's not from the ride. I park the bike out front, walk up to the door and knock. The front stoop and nice mahogany door look different in the sunshine and with my head clearer from sleep and food. I reach my hand to knock and then lower it. I have no idea why I'm here or what I'm going to say. I turn to make my escape when the door opens. Rio is standing in the doorway wearing a straw cowboy hat and pink leather cowboy boots under her jeans.

"You're just in time. I need help deciding which pictures to post." She reaches for my hand and pulls me inside. "Dad is a terrible photographer, but I think I can salvage a few. Sir James,we have company." She lifts her phone. "I saw you on the porch camera." Rio stops and looks up at me. "Were you leaving?"

"Uh, no, I was just going to check that my bike wasn't blocking the driveway."

Jameson steps out of the hallway, shirtless with his thick, wet hair combed back off his face. It takes me a second to find my tongue. "Uh, sorry to interrupt your day—" I say lamely.

"You're not interrupting, is she, Dad? I'm going to show her the pictures and see if any of them are useable." She adds an eye roll.

"Nope, shower first. You smell like Irish, and as much as I love that pony, I don't want to smell her inside the house."

Rio grunts. "Fine." She turns back to me. "Stay please. I desperately need your help. This man is absolutely useless when it comes to creating good posts." She stomps down the hallway to the bathroom.

It's hard not to laugh. "And I thought our age group was addicted to social media," I say.

"Trust me, it's way out of control. They post everything online, and that seems to be the way they communicate. I've never heard her actually speak on the phone. I'm worried about her generation, and there you have it—I've officially finished my transformation to boring, grumbly old man. Next, I'll be raising my fist and yelling at kids to get off my lawn."

"I don't think you have to start wearing stretched out corduroy pants with thin leather belts quite yet." We stare at each other for a second. "I'm sorry about earlier."

He looks down and shakes his head as he rakes his fingers through his hair. "No, I shouldn't have gone off like that."

I'm having a hard time keeping my gaze from sweeping down his muscular chest and six-pack abs to the dark line of hair that trails down below the waist of his jeans. I came here to talk tohim about the flowers at my dad's grave, but I'm finding myself distracted by his half-naked body.

The shower turns on in the bathroom. The light banter is over, and Jameson's unearthly gaze grows more intense as he moves a step closer. I can see the Adam's apple move in his throat, and something about it sends a rush of heat through me.

"Did you forget something?" His deep voice pops me out of my unexpected trance.

"Forget?"

A crooked smile turns up his mouth. I always hated that cocky grin, but now, seeing it, I'm thinking hate is way too strong of a word. "You showed up here, remember? I was sure you wouldn't be back."

"I was going to leave, then Rio saw me on the porch camera, and the next thing I knew, I was being hired as official photo picker."

His smile vanishes. "You came here, but you weren't planning on knocking?"

Something about the way he asks it, puts me back on defense. "You've been putting flowers on my dad's grave." I don't mean to make it sound like an accusation. At least I don't think I meant it that way, but it comes out like that anyway.

His Adam's apple moves again. Why the fuck does it have me so mesmerized? "Who told you that?" He nods once. "Berniece, the bird feeder."

"Why are you doing it?"

He stares at me, and suddenly, we're back at the day when we met face-to-face after Dad's accident. He couldn't look me in the eye, and I couldn't look away. I walked straight up to him, sobbing uncontrollably and pounded him on the chest. And he let me. It was as if he needed the punishment as badly as I needed to give it.

"Just something I need to do," he says curtly. "Do you want me to stop?"

I nod and then shake my head. "I don't know."

"That day, the day your dad died, sticks in my soul as much as it does yours," he says.

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