Wild Card

by Elsie Silver

“Careful, Gwen.” She chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. And she doesn’t back down. Instead, her lips move closer to the shell of my ear. “Or what? You might man up and take something for yourself for once?” I snap. I take something for myself for once. My hands dart out and grip Gwen’s waist. “You know what?” I snarl, yanking her toward me, staring at her plush mouth as her lips softly part—no doubt to say something infuriating. But I don’t let her get a word in edgewise. “Fuck it,” I mutter. Then I kiss her.

“Fucking look at you,” he says, his breathing labored. “Fucking perfect. And so fucking off-limits.”

“That he was a fool to let you get away. But that it was just as well because I could fuck you better.”

Gwen: Is it as bad as it looks? Bash: Yeah. It’s pretty bad. Early for fire season too. Gwen: How long do you think you’ll be gone? Bash: Hard to say. Why? Does Clyde miss me? Gwen: No. I do.

“Wow,” I sigh. Because no other word seems to do this view justice. “This is beautiful.” “Yeah. It is,” Bash agrees. But when I turn back to face him, he’s not looking out the window. He’s looking at me.

“I love you like this.” “Like what?” she murmurs, entranced. “All mine.” Our eyes meet in the dim cockpit. “I am.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “This is not helping me want to leave.” I shoot him a sultry wink. “Gotta keep you coming back for more.” He sobers for a beat. “I’m never going to get enough. I can promise you that much. I’ll always be coming back to you.”

“You’re a fucking wild card. Unpredictable and never what I expect. You scare the hell out of me every damn day. But today more than any of them. Because I thought I lost you.” His voice cracks. So does my heart. “And I love you, and I hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell you.”

“I love it here,” she finally whispers. “It’s beautiful,” I reply simply. “No. I mean here. With you. This life. I love it all.”