Page 12 of Wrong Number, Right Cougar

A loose photo fell from the album, and I picked it up. Dad was holding me, I must have been three months old, and Father had his arms around both of us. On the back in Father’s handwriting was my name and birth date.

I rubbed my thumb over the crinkled photo, wondering why Brett had never been in my life. Putting the photo in my pocket, I slammed the album closed and more dust billowed out.

Next I opened a scrapbook with newspaper articles about Cougar Lake and more photos of the grand opening. A man that reminded me of Noah—maybe his father—was standing beside my uncle.

There were more pics, nothing that caught my eye until one section that contained photos in the woods, with Uncle and other people and cougars, their eyes glinting from the camera’s flash. No one was panicking, hiding behind trees or running away. There were no weapons, and if I covered up the cougars, the pics were nondescript, just evidence of people enjoying a day out.

I examined the photos, looking for tampering, but couldn’t see any. Not that I was an expert. And these photos were taken decades before the public had access to AI, but it was possible they had been manipulated. Though when I looked at Uncle’s shadow, it fell over one of the beasts, exactly as it should have.

I tucked one of the pics in my pocket so I could show it to Wilder or Noah, and I was about to return it to the shelf when a page with a newspaper clipping caught my eye. It was Father’s funeral notice. Dad’s and my names were listed, along with Father’s other siblings. But not Brett. He’d been wiped from the family archives, something that death had not done to Father. He was still very much a part of our family when I was growing up. There were photos and stories and Dad reminiscing.

I had few memories of Father, but one stood out of him pushing me on a swing in our backyard.

Perhaps Noah or Wilder could give me a hint as to what had happened, as Dad wasn’t forthcoming. In the years that “Alexei” had lived here, maybe he’d unburdened himself to his handyman or the lawyer. Or perhaps Brett had a best friend. Those people in the fake pic with the cougars might be a good place to start.

Though there were broken windows upstairs, Wilder had boarded it up, so I closed the living room one because I didn’t want the memories in here destroyed.

Now my thoughts drifted from cougars and my uncle to Wilder. He said he lived not far from here, and while there were various small sheds on the site, none appeared to be habitable.

As I wandered to the car, I picked up his cologne. He didn’t look like the kinda guy that wore cologne, but what did I know? Was there a list of criteria or characteristics that men possessed before they used cologne? Again, I pushed back against my preconceived idea.

But as I got into the driver’s seat, I sat with the image of Wilder scrambling up a ladder and over the roof. He could scramble over me any time. There was no indication the guy was into me, and I was here for such a short time, it’d be a two-night stand at best if we slept together.

And it could get messy. Not with slick, though my butt was covered in the slippery stuff, and I would have to creep into my motel room and hope the manager didn’t notice the wet stain on my pants.

No, messy as in complicated. He was either still working for me or I was paying him an hourly rate. I didn’t want his dick to get in the way of doing the repairs. Besides, his cock could go elsewhere, like in my hole.

I shifted my weight as I pictured Wilder in the car with me, the seat pushed back and me hugging the steering wheel while he plowed in and out.

This was silly, thinking of having sex with a man I’d just met and one who I might never see again. But his eyes reminded me of the ones in my dream, and when he was close, I experienced a pull toward him. Not just to his body, but I wanted to see inside his head and learn his favorite food and watch a movie together while we ate popcorn.

But I had other problems to deal with. I’d come back to Wilder and his sexy-ass walk later tonight when I was in bed, naked, with my hand curled around my length and rubbing up and down my shaft.

If we were going to undertake the renovations—and by we I meant me paying and Wilder doing the work—it would take longer than a week. I’d use up all my vacation time and sick leave, and I’d probably have to come back a few times in the coming months.

I went to the diner for a meal and sat in a corner booth typing out a proposal I’d submit to my boss. Working from home was what I was suggesting. My temporary home. I did have colleagues who only came into the office two days a week and worked from home the remaining three days. But I’d be asking for a block of time where I’d be away from the office.

A car drove past, what we used to call an old banger in college, and the driver’s silhouette reminded me of Wilder. I had to stop thinking of him and get in touch with my boss.

But my mind wasn’t taking its cues from me and it gave me an image of a naked Wilder, not that I’d seen him without clothes. Air whooshed out of me and an older man in the booth opposite chortled.

“I used to do the same thing when I was away from my husband and longing for him to come home.” He leaned toward me and whispered, “I recognize when someone is conjuring up naked images.”

My face burned because I was so predictable and I’d been caught out. What if anyone in the diner guessed who the naked guy was?

I put my head down and typed what I was going to say to the boss. When I was happy with my proposal, I downed the rest of my coffee and headed out. The conversation had to happen in private, otherwise all of Cougar Lake would know my business.

Not that they didn’t know a lot already, especially if the older gentlemen told everyone I was imaging naked guys. But it was just one man I was thinking of.

I made sure the door to my room was closed before I called the boss. I explained what was happening and how I proposed to work from home. I was worried some of my colleagues would take the opportunity to leapfrog over me and get the promotion I was aiming for.

“Don’t worry, Thorn. Your job is secure, and I’m pretty sure you’re first in line for that managerial position.”

That took a huge weight off me, and I thanked him. Now the only weight I wanted, the one I cared about, was Wilder’s. Him on top of me, naked, his hands clawing my skin and telling me he wanted me so bad.

How did I make it happen?

8

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