Walk on the Wilder Side by Serena Bell

18

Rachel

We clean up, then dry off in the sun, then get dressed and pack up our picnic. I’m relaxed and contented, and haven’t thought for hours about the train wreck that is my old life.

We must have been out of cell phone range for a while, because as we get close to Rush Creek and home, all of a sudden, my phone chirps and coughs up a whole bunch of notifications. Texts, from Louisa, from my mom, from Amanda. I sift through them—nothing essential. Louisa wants to know what’s up with the bad boy, my mom tells me one of my cousins is passing through tonight on a trip from the Redwood National Forest to Seattle and she’s making ropa vieja so I should be back by 7:30 and hungry, and Amanda is nailing down our plans for tomorrow night. Can you meet at Oscar’s at 7? she wants to know.

Then I get distracted by a voicemail. From Hettie at the library.

“I’m just going to listen to this voicemail. It’s from my ex-boss.”

“Sure.” Brody hums, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Not scowling, not at all. I smile, too, thinking of how totally bowled over he looked after I made him come. Gratitude is hot.

Rachel, the voicemail says. Don’t hang up on me, even though I know you might be tempted. We can give you your job back.

I think I make a small, startled sound, because Brody’s eyes leave the road and find my face for a second, making sure everything’s okay. I smile, signaling that it is, but he still looks concerned, and his hand finds my thigh again.

I like them both, that concern and that hand on my thigh.

I listen to the rest of Hettie’s explanation, which is long and complicated and concludes with, Call me first thing Monday.

Right, the call came in on East Coast time right around five p.m. on a Friday. Not gonna learn anything more till Monday.

“They can give me my job back,” I tell Brody.

His eyes leave the road again. “What?”

“So apparently one of my coworkers gave notice yesterday and they can reallocate her position as long as I’m willing to leave children’s for adult, which I totally am. So I have my job back!”

“That’s great!” Brody says. “You must be psyched.”

“Uh—” I say.

To be honest, I can’t figure out what I’m feeling. Relieved? Maybe. I mean, this is huge, right? Basically, the plan is back on track, minus Werner, and the only way to think about Werner is as a wrong turn.

But I am enjoying my strange Rush Creek detour. This time out of time, nothing happening the way I expect. There’s something about knowing it will end—and how—that is disappointing.

“I think I’m not quite ready for my vacation to be over,” I tell Brody. That’s a thing, right? Of course it is. And as soon as I say it, I feel better, because no one wants to go back to work.

I hadn’t realized Brody was tensed up, but when I say that, his jaw loosens a bit and his shoulders drop.

“I’m not ready for it to be over either,” he says, and his fingers tighten on my thigh. I can feel the echo of that all the way in my core, and my clit perks up.

“Either way, I have to stay till my mom’s foot is healed,” I remind him.

But it’s only two more weeks until the date the doctor threw out to her, and suddenly that doesn’t feel like very long.

I squeeze Brody’s hand, and he flips his hand to squeeze mine back.

I remember that I never responded to Amanda.

“I have to text your sister. We’re having dinner tomorrow night.”

Brody’s eyes meet mine again, startled. “Wait, what?” He pulls into my parents’ neighborhood as I text Amanda back, Yes, perfect, can’t wait.

“Amanda and Lucy and Hanna and I are having dinner tomorrow night.” I glance at him to find him staring at me with a look I can only describe as horror. “What? Is that bad?”

“No,” he says, and then, more firmly, “no. It’s good. They’re good people. Have a good time. Say hi from me. If Easton’s there, don’t talk to him.”

“What?”

“He’ll flirt with any woman with a pulse, and he’s especially prone to trying to seduce women his brothers are interested in. We’ve almost disowned him several times, but he’s such a magnet, we can’t afford not to keep him around.”

I giggle.

He pulls into my driveway and parks, then leans over and kisses me. Hard. Sweeping his tongue into my mouth, cupping my head, leaving me breathless.

Drawing back, he smiles at me. “Damn. Now I don’t want you to get out of the truck.”

“My cousin’s coming for dinner and my mom made ropa vieja, so I have to. But I’ll see you Sunday. For a Perez-Wilder family dinner.”

“Oh, right,” he says. “Oh. That’ll be—challenging. Maybe I should just tell Connor before that so we don’t have to pretend nothing’s going on.”

I tilt my head. “Is it worth telling him, when I’m leaving?”

Brody scowls, which he hasn’t done for a while. And I have to admit, as much as I love his smile, I love his scowl, too. “I guess not,” he says. “Why rock the boat when it doesn’t have to be rocked?”

I give him one more kiss, then exit the truck. As I’m walking around it to the house, he lowers the window and calls, “Rach.”

“Yeah?”

“When you go out with the girls tomorrow night?”

“Mmm-hmm?”

“Don’t believe everything they tell you.”

Then he drives away.

I replay that line in my head a bunch of times.

He doesn’t sound like he’s teasing.