Page 36 of This Wild Heart

“How’s married life?”

They snapped a few pictures while I cued up the music in my earbuds, and no matter how much I wanted to ignore them, the idea of these three jackals joining me on my run made me want to break something.

“Hey guys,” I said with as friendly of a smile as I could manage. “Mind letting me go for a run without the interview? Just trying to enjoy a quiet honeymoon at home.”

Oh, what a crock of shit. My husband dropped my ass into the guest room, and I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since. If it wasn’t for the big, big shoes he’d kicked off by the garage door and the Voyagers hat on the dining room table, I would’ve thought he was staying elsewhere.

“When’s Parker coming home?”

What a good freaking question.

“Later,” I said vaguely. “You’re not coming with me, are you?”

The first one, with the big camera, snorted. “Not likely.”

“Excellent.” I set my hands on my hips and gave them a look, wheels turning in my head. “Tell you what, if you three give me some privacy, I’ll bring out a plate of the best blueberry muffins in the entire world. I can’t imagine you’ve left to get food since you showed up this morning.”

The guy with dreads narrowed his eyes. “They’re not the shitty box kind with the dinky little blueberries, are they?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course not. Homemade. Fresh as of this morning, I think.”

I still hadn’t figured out how they were warm when I got up. Louise must’ve left the batter in the fridge before going home the night before, and I just missed it. The thought of Parker baking muffins scrambled something in my brain, so I tried very hard not to imagine it.

The three of them shared a look, and the first guy, with the giant camera bag strapped to his back, gave me a nod. “Fine.”

“No running pics,” I instructed firmly. “My face gets all red, and I look like I’m dying.”

They laughed. He held out a hand. “Deal.”

I let out a quiet sigh, feeling more like myself than I had in the past couple of days. While they took a seat in the back of the first truck, which they’d parked by the curb, I let myself back through the large gate in the middle of the black fence surrounding the front patio area.

When I returned, they were whispering, staring at their phones.

“As promised,” I said.

Like a pack of freaking vultures, they inhaled the muffins, moaning and groaning about how good they were. The third guy, who was quieter than the other two, watched me shrewdly. “Did you see?”

I sighed because honestly, I just wanted to go for my fucking run and get some of my restless energy out. “See what?”

“Max’s post in response to your marriage.”

My stomach dropped. “No, I didn’t.”

God, good for me. I sounded very unbothered. But inside? Inside me, instant, white-hot flames licked through my chest.

His eyes held mine, and the challenging flint made me want to slap him. “Says it’s a hoax. That you’re lying, likely paying Parker to see this out because you’re embarrassed after the two of you broke up, and you’re trying to save face.”

The other two traded glances.

“Well,” I said lightly, “he’s entitled to his opinion. Given his own history with lying, I’m not sure I’d put much weight to it. I’m not paying anyone, and if he’d been with us in Vegas that night, he’d know exactly howrealthis is.”

The words hung in the air, and the glint in his eye shifted to satisfaction real fucking quick.

“Off the record with that?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he watched me.

Yes. It hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t force the word out.

Instead, my chin rose an inch, and I held his gaze unflinchingly. “Enjoy the muffins, boys.”

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