Wildfire (Maple Hills, #2)

by Hannah Grace

“Listen, this isn’t working. You’re too fucking hot and the presidents aren’t helping, I’ve moved on to Stanley Cup winners, but with you just here”—he gestures to my thighs spread across him—“looking like that,” he says, gesturing up my body, “it’s going to take forever.”

not that I’ve never been told I’m hot before, I have, but this guy seems tortured by it. Like he’ll never recover from it. Like I’m the tipping point of his sanity, and that is a feeling I could get addicted to.

For all the romance books I’ve read and all the happy endings I’ve enjoyed, I can’t imagine my own. I’d like to hope I’ll have one, but hope can be dangerous.

something poetic and clever about love being when you give someone the power to hurt you but trust them not to, but I can’t imagine ever trusting someone that much. If I want my feelings hurt, I am more than capable of doing it to myself. It’s a skill I’ve honed over many years, and arguably my best one. I’d like to trust someone one day, though, maybe.

“There’s no way that’s going to fit. I mean I love a challenge, but I can only be challenged so much, y’know?”

“We’ll make it fit.” Oh Lord.

Why did I think I had the stamina to go on top? “You’re taking it so well, sweetheart.” I work a little harder, clearly motivated by words and moans. “That’s it, good girl.”

Holy shit. Who cares about basketball when hockey players exist?

The balance between being the perfect daughter and my own person is like walking a tightrope. Except there’s a hurricane. And the rope is on fire.

“I don’t think I’d like being crushed by a hockey player, funnily enough.” “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” I say quietly without thinking.

“If it’s a bull shark, we’re both screwed because I’m dragging you with me. You’re bigger, you’ll taste better.” “Trust me, you taste incredible.”

“Who knew you could be such a good girl.”

“What’re you doing?” “I’m watching you go in so you don’t have to watch me leave.”

“Well, green is my favorite color.” “What type of green? Ogre green?” “Whatever shade your eyes are.”

“Oh, my sweet summer child.” He laughs. “You’re a straight white man. That’s your red flag.”

As someone who’s perpetually single, I think it’s probably more shocking that I like them to begin with. It’s a bit of a conundrum now that I think about it, how I have such faith in fictional happy endings, but have never considered what my own might look like.

“What do you need?” he asks, massaging my inner thighs. Everything. “I want to feel close to you.”

The praise makes the sex better and I’m not embarrassed to admit that. Russ Callaghan can call me a good girl anytime.

“You can’t put it in my butt.” Goose bumps spread across my body as he laughs into my neck. “I wasn’t planning on that, but thanks for letting me know.”

“Will you still be here when I wake up?” “Yes, I promise.”

“I’d wait forever for you, Aurora.”

“Never had you down as the possessive type.” There’s nothing hurt or sad in her tone. “It’s always the ones you least suspect.” “You get that way when you know how fucking special someone is. How they have no goddamn idea how much brighter they make everything. You’re like sunlight, Rory. I want to bask in everything you have. And I absolutely don’t want to share that with Clay. Not even for a minute.”

I wish I could go back to earlier and slap that Russ. I wouldn’t have spent the day worrying about whether we’re a good idea.

“He doesn’t know how much everyone loves him. He only ever assumes the worst and jumps to the worst conclusions. Sometimes you’ll need to spell the good out to him.”

Sometimes I want to shake this man, because he doesn’t realize how happy his handing over those pieces of himself he keeps so tight to his chest makes me.

“You take it so well, sweetheart. You’re such a good girl.”

“Are you going to judge me for putting out on the first date?”

“Technically you put out before the first date. Loophole.”

“We can both play dirty, sweetheart,” he huffs.

I never understood the phrase “My heart skips a beat” until right now, when I see how Russ looks at me when he thinks I’m not watching.

This is what being wanted and valued feels like. This is the feeling I want forever.

“I just want to be wanted.” “You are. Let’s both stay. Let me show you how wanted you are.”

“And I want to want you because you’re worth it, sweetheart. And you make me feel good, too.”

“I’ve never claimed to be the perfect mother. I know we have our differences, but I love you enough for both me and Chuck.”

“I’ve never been in a relationship before, but I want to see where this can go. I want to be your

Going our separate ways isn’t an option for me, and if she leaves, the only person I’d have to blame for that is myself. I’ll have been the one who pushed her away when she was trying to pull me close.

“He makes me happy, too. Thank you for teaching him to fake being confident long enough for him to talk to me that night.” “Thank you for letting him see himself the way we see him.”

“Tell me a secret, Callaghan.”

“I’m falling in love with you, Aurora.” Ten million butterflies. “I’m falling in love with you, too.”

I love stories about people I don’t know, and places I haven’t been to. I’ve lived a thousand lives between a thousand pages, but no story, no life, no page has ever made me as happy as you do, Russ Callaghan.”

Thank you for giving me a life that feels too good to be true. Thank you for letting me bring home animals even when you say no. Thank you for letting me live my dreams every day.”

“To happy endings.” She raises her glass. “And unlimited pets.”

“To happy endings and unlimited pets,” the room echoes.