Page 9 of Wilder Heart

He turned to look out the window. “Once a month, yeah. And regular phone calls.”

“We’ll get you set up with a prepaid cell phone this week, too, then.”

Wilder’s gaze fell to his lap, his thumb brushing the new denim. There was a curve to his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. He didn’t like accepting help. With any luck, he wouldn’t have to rely on them for long. Independence was important tohim, and Cash hoped, for Wilder’s sake, that he was able to find his footing soon.

CHAPTER 4

WILDER

Wilder hadn’t expected to like Cash as much as he did. No-nonsense and easygoing, he didn’t seem to mind Wilder’s rougher edges or his feeble attempts at humor. There was no judgment in his tone or demeanor when he helped Wilder find clothing for himself or talked about what he still needed to become a fully functioning member of society. After last night’s strangeness with Lain and this morning’s ogling among the other ranch hands, it was nice to be treated like a normal person again.

It also helped that Cash was the hottest thing he’d seen inyears. Tall and packed with muscle, his sandy brown hair was almost as short as Wilder’s, and his eyes looked like sun-shot honey, warm and gold. His skin was browned by the sun, like his body soaked up the rays.

Spending eight years in prison as a closeted gay man wasn’t ideal. He hadn’t even had a chance to come out to Lain as a teenager. He couldn’t risk Dad finding out. Things were hard enough without him learning he had a gay son. And then in prison, he’d done what he had to do to keep a target off his back. Weakness was exploited, and he wasn’t going to go on his knees foranyone. He’d never been allowed to look his fill withoutfear of discovery or retribution. Hell, maybe he still couldn’t. There was a chance Cash would realize Wilder’s glances were weighted with the heat of attraction and be repulsed by the very idea. He didn’tthinkso, but his perceptions about people were understandably skewed. Being suspicious of even the men he was on friendly terms with in prison was just a way of life.

So he kept his appreciative looks furtive, the brim of his hat hiding the way his eyes trailed up the line of Cash’s thick, splayed thighs. There was no harm in looking. No matter how nice he was, he doubted Cash would ever show any interest in an ex-con like him.

With a despondent sigh, he tilted his head back—and lifted his hat from his head when the back of the brim hit the headrest. Setting it on the empty seat between them, he carded his fingers through his short hair and turned his attention to the green and gold fields passing by outside. It was picturesque—and lonely. There wasn’t another car in sight. No houses or civilization of any kind outside Roselake proper. It was certainly not the kind of place where a gay man might find a community. He was no virgin, but his hurried encounters in prison barely scratched the itch. He’d never experienced real intimacy, and that didn’t seem likely to change any time soon.

“You look terribly introspective over there,” Cash said, drawing him from his maudlin thoughts. One hand was draped over the steering wheel. He was driving with his wrist more than anything, relaxed and confident. “Anything you want to talk about?”

Wilder huffed, but there was no humor in it. “No, not particularly.”

“Prison stuff?” Cash asked bluntly.

Wilder was surprised he’d asked. Most people so far seemed intent on avoiding the elephant in the room. “Yeah,” he said, fighting a smile. “Prison stuff.”

“I can’t say I know much about it. Never been and don’t know anyone who has—until now, I guess. But I’m a good listener, if you ever want to get anything off your chest.”

“That’s kind of you.” Wilder wasn’t stupid enough to confide in the boss, though. He didn’t know Cash well enough to give him that kind of ammunition. The man gave him a good feeling, and that was all the more reason to keep his guard up. He took a shiv to the back once from a man who gave him a good feeling.

“But hell no?” Cash guessed, his honey brown eyes far too knowing.

“But hell no,” Wilder confirmed.

Cash chuckled. “Fair enough. I won’t push. Just know the offer’s open.”

Wilder inclined his head.

They made the rest of the drive in silence. Along the way, Wilder realized he didn’t recognize any of the popular music playing quietly on the radio. It just drove home the fact that he was out of his element here. In prison, he’d learned the routine, mapped out the dangers. He’d become an expert at navigating any situation, because he had to. Out here, anything could happen. The unpredictability of freedom could drown him.

When they reached the ranch, Cash pulled the truck up right in front of Wilder’s door.

“Go ahead and take those in. I’ll park the truck and meet you over there at the horse barn.”

Hope seized his heart. “We’re going to ride?” Cash had said as much earlier, but Wilder curbed his hopes. Getting on a horse again would be a dream. He hadn’t really expected to be allowed to ride so soon.

“Yep. If that works for you. I’ll put you on one of our steady ones, let you get a feel for the saddle in the paddock before I give you the tour. I figure doing it on horseback will be okay, yeah?”He winked, and Wilder looked away to hide the way his whole body heated in response.

“Sounds good.” He pushed the door open and grabbed as many of the bags as he could carry. He couldn’t quite get them all, growling under his breath. “Be right back.”

He fumbled his key into the door and nudged it open with the toe of his new boot. Dumping his bags on the bed, he whirled around to rush back out and grab the rest—and smacked right into Cash, who was halfway through the door with the rest of the bags, which crashed to the floor as they collided. Cash’s big hands felt like brands on his waist, catching him as their legs tangled and they both staggered.

“Fuck!” Wilder cursed, fingers clenching in Cash’s shirt. “Sorry. I had no idea you were?—”

“No, it’s fine, I should’ve said?—”

They both stopped, the brims of their hats touching. Cash was slightly taller than him, Wilder realized. His body was warm beneath the fabric of his shirt, and Wilder’s mouth went dry as bone. It was harder than expected to pull away, and if he didn’t know better, he’d say Cash’s hands lingered on his waist a beat too long. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

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