Page 48 of Wild Then Wed
Sage’s laugh vibrates through her blanket burrito, just dark hair poking out over the fleece as she drifts off. Across the couch, Lark fiddles with her wedding ring, her messy blonde braid sliding over her shoulder. I sink deeper into the cushions, Ridge’s worn crewneck swallowing my hands, still smelling faintly of crisp fabric softener.
Sage lets out a muffled groan. “God, it’s bleak out here. I hate dating.”
“It’s fucking criminal,” Miller says. “If I wanted to raise a man, I’d have kids of my own.”
She says it like a joke, but there’s something a little sharp underneath it.
The fire pops softly behind us, filling the room with warm, sleepy air. It’s one of those nights that feels stitched together by small things—blankets, popcorn, easy company. Old Faithful—Boone and Lark’s house on the Wilding Ranch property—used to be decrepit and half-collapsed until Boone fixed it up. It was an old ranch house with a sagging porch, broken windows, and weeds clawing up through the floorboards.
Now?
Boone rebuilt it from the studs out—every beam, every stone. It’s still got the bones of what it was, but now it smells like woodsmoke and warm vanilla and feels like a real home instead of the ghost of one. Outside, the wind rattles the windows, but inside it’s warm enough to pretend the world’s spinning without us for a little while.
Miller shifts on the couch like she’s too restless to sit still. Even her version of “casual” looks expensive —an over-sized cream turtleneck flowing over tailored leather joggers, both of which are probably some sort of designer. Her idea of “girls’ night comfy” is…aspirational at best.
She tosses another piece of popcorn in the air, tries to catch it in her mouth and misses. “Honestly, I’m about three months away from adopting a dog and calling it quits.”
“You hate dogs,” Sage says, narrowing her eyes.
“I hatebaddogs,” Miller corrects. “I could find a chic dog. A minimalist dog.”
“Like what?” Lark says, laughing now. “A hairless one you carry around in a tote bag?”
“Exactly,” Miller says, unbothered. “I’ll name her Blanche and we’ll grow old together.”
I stretch my legs out on the ottoman, my knee bumping Sage’s under the blanket, and close my eyes for half a second.
We’re all sitting too close, laughing too loud. The popcorn bowl shifts between hands. The world feels smaller here. Easier. I feel like I can breathe.
Miller flops back against the cushions like a Victorian lady succumbing to a dramatic faint. “I’m taking a vow of celibacy.”
Lark doesn’t even look up from her water. “Mhm. Just like last time.”
“And the time before that,” Sage adds, poking her head out from her blanket nest. “Right before you hooked up with Car Wash Carl.”
Miller waves a hand. “First of all, his name was Ryan, and second—”
“—and second, you said you were ‘assessing liquidity options,’” I finish, grinning.
“Exactly!” Miller sits up, pointing at me. “He owned abusiness, Wren. A profitable one. And he had dental.”
Sage blinks. “You checked his insurance before having sex with him?”
“I’m not an animal, Sage,” Miller says, reaching for the popcorn. “I checkedafter. A woman has to have her priorities straight.”
Lark rolls her eyes. “Thisis why you’re still single.”
Miller gasps. “Excuse you, I’m single because the universe is still curating my soulmate. As we speak, some divine being is probably hand-stitching his Italian loafers or teaching him how to properly pronounceGivenchy.” She pauses. “Or, ideally, both.”
I snort. “So what you’re saying is…you’re holding out for a man who’s basically just…you, but taller?”
Miller considers this for a moment, then shrugs. “I mean, if the shoe fits.”
Sage throws a piece of popcorn at her. “You’re impossible.”
Miller catches it effortlessly. “And yet, here you all are. Adoring me.”
Lark sighs, but she’s smiling. “Against our better judgment.”
