Page 33 of Wilder Heart

“Itisa lovely view,” Wilder agreed. He’d certainly developed a healthy appreciation for a sight that wasn’t interrupted by iron bars and chainlink fences.

“So, want to open up the box, give one a try?” Cash prompted, nudging him with his elbow.

He really did, although his excitement for the food paled in comparison to the all-encompassing sense of satisfaction he felt from being in Cash’s steadfast presence. If this man had been in his life when he was eighteen, he might’ve turned out entirely different. He made Wilder want to slow down, appreciate what was in front of him and mend the chip on his shoulder.

When he tore into the box, he handed a package to Cash, who chuckled as he took it. Their fingers brushed, and their eyes met for a lingering moment. The tension between them was as thick as a January snow.

Stuffing the wrappers back into the box, they bit into their treats at the same time. Wilder stretched his legs out as he chewed, crossing them at the ankle and then laying all the way back so he could look up at the stars. Cash followed suit a moment later. The Twinkie was just as ridiculously sweet as he remembered, with fluffy yellow cake and a sweet, creamy middle. When he finished it off, he licked his fingers and reached into the box over his head to grab another.

“You want another one?” he asked Cash, who laughed.

“No, I think one was enough for me. Help yourself. I take it they’re as good as you remember?”

“Wonderful and terrible all at the same time, really,” he said, tearing the wrapper open and stuffing half of it into his mouth, to a snort of amusement from Cash. “They didn’t have much in the way of sweets in prison, so I don’t have the tolerance for the richness that I used to. But hell yeah, they’re still good.”

Cash raised up on his elbow and smiled down at him. “Good. I’m glad. You can come with me again if you’d like, pick out something else you want.”

Wilder’s stomach turned at the thought—or maybe the second cake wasn’t sitting as well as the first—and shook his head. “Naw, I couldn’t. Gary doesn’t want me there.”

“All the more reason for you to come with me. I told him to leave you alone. If he doesn’t, we won’t be doing business there anymore. It’d be a good test to see if he’s a man of his word.”

Those words didn’t compute. Wilder blindly stuffed the wrapper back into the box and looked closely at Cash. “What?”

“The ranch sells him some of its angus beef, Wilder. We’ve done business with his store for years. But if he’s not willing to let bygones be bygones, we can sell our meat somewhere else. I won’t have him mistreating any of our employees, no matter who they are.”

He couldn’t imagine Lain would abide something like that, not just for Wilder. “Lain wouldn’t…”

“If I asked him to, he would. He values my judgment, and if I tell him there’s a problem, he’d accept it.”

“Gary’s is the oldest grocery store in town,” Wilder said. “Why would you do that for me?”

Cash cradled the side of his face, and a needy shudder rattled Wilder’s bones. He wasn’t sure anyone had ever touched him so softly, like he was something to be cherished. A sea of starlight reflected in Cash’s warm gaze, each one fitting into the cracks of his broken soul and filling them with golden light.

“Because,” Cash’s honey-sweet voice rolled down his spine, “in case you haven’t noticed, I like you.”

Wilder’s mouth was dry. He felt like a teenager again. Was this a date? Had Cash brought him on his very first real date, and Wilder was too stupid to realize that’s what it was because his brain didn’t operate like normal people’s anymore?

“Cash,” he breathed, his hand finding Cash’s side and fitting into that space that seemed made for him. He tangled his fingers in the fabric of Cash’s chambray shirt.

Cash leaned in, his whiskey brown eyes falling to Wilder’s mouth. “Say that again. I love the way my name sounds when you say it.”

Blazing heat burned through him, turning every other thought to ash. All that existed in the world was Cash’s hungry gaze, the warmth of his hand on Wilder’s face and the strong length of his body lined up beside his own. Much closer and they would be tangled together. There were probably a dozen reasons why they shouldn’t do this, but Wilder couldn’t remember a single one right now, not with Cash occupying his every sense.

“Cash,” he said again, weaker this time. A part of him hated the needy pitch in his own voice, but he stopped caring when it spurred Cash into motion.

Cash’s lips sealed against his own, and Wilder felt like a lit firework, like sparks shot from his fingers and toes. Something caught fire inside his breastbone, and he turned his head, pressing into it, turning it hard and hungry. His hands left Cash’s shirt to slide around his back instead, closing the space between their bodies. Cash’s interest was a hard bulge against his hip, and his own body responded in kind. Desperately, achingly hard.

He didn’t realize he was shaking until their lips parted and Cash pressed their foreheads together, murmuring, “It’s okay, I’ve got you, you’re okay.”

Some little sound left him, like a whimper, and when Wilder’s head fell back, it didn’t meet the hard truck bed but Cash’s protective forearm instead. Cash left soft kisses on his jaw, and Wilder turned his head, taking those kisses to his mouth instead. Each one was sweeter than Twinkies.

When they parted again, Cash smiled down at him. “See? I like you a little bit.”

Wilder laughed, curling up to hide it in the curve of Cash’s neck. “God knows why.”

“I know why,” Cash said. “You’re amazing.”

“No the fuck I’m not.” He was rotten on the inside. Always had been. The rest of the world had made it clear that only a rotten son of a bitch could have done the things he’d done to survive.

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