Wild Card

by Elsie Silver

“The thing is, Gwen, next time you want to watch me, you should just ask.” My brain function stutters as my eyes snap to his. “Pardon me?” “You heard me.”

“I did hear you. And I heard you whisper my name when you came too. So maybe if you wanted me to watch, you should have told me.”

She’s beautiful. More than that, the way she sees the world is beautiful. She’s good for me. Hell, she makes me laugh. Living in my head feels like a constant battle sometimes, but standing next to Gwen with my feet in the sand makes everything feel a little bit better.

“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.

“That poor kid waxed poetic about you all night,” Bash cuts me off, speaking between languid kisses down my chest, his tongue darting out over the tops of my breasts. “For all the wrong reasons but still. I had to sit there and pat his back over it. And do you know what I was thinking about the entire time?” I blink. I had no clue Tripp was still upset over our breakup. “What’s that?” “That he was a fool to let you get away. But that it was just as well because I could fuck you better.”

And me? I do us both a favor: I walk inside and respond to the job offer from the resort in Costa Rica. I tell them I’ll be ready to start on August first.

“Is this the game where we pretend there’s nothing going on between the two of you?” Fucking Clyde. “You’re not supposed to be this snoopy.” He scrubs a hand over his wiry, gray stubble. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just that I’m invested. I worked really hard to get you both under one roof.” My head snaps in his direction. “You what?” I suspected something at the hospital—but hearing him so bluntly confirm it still shocks me. “Don’t act so surprised. I love that big doofus like he’s my own, and to be frank, you’re feeling an awful lot like my second doofus.”

And with you two, I’ve seen it since he came back from that night stuck in the airport and wouldn’t stop bringing you up. Never seen the guy check his phone as much as he did in the weeks and months after that. He tries to be all bland and grumbly, but I know he never gave up hope that you might contact him.”

“Gwen, listen. I’ve known him for years now, and he might be one of the best people I know. Prickly and ornery and set in his ways, but good. He’s been hurt. He’s been told a few too many times that he isn’t good enough. Between his ex-wife and Tripp’s mom, he’s learned the hard way that people use him as a stepping stone to the life they really want. He expects to be left behind.”

But when he met you? You shook him up. It changed something. It changed him. And I reckon that if you have the fortitude to keep at him, he might just soften up for you. It won’t be easy. But nothing worth having ever comes easy.”

Helping Rhys get an alarm system set up for Tabby while he was away? Also satisfying.

I know what it’s like to not be able to stop thinking about someone. I know because I’ve been there with Gwen. Even during an active fire, I think about her. Even when I know I shouldn’t, I think about her.

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.

“I’m going to kneel on your bed and rub this into your temples. Please try not to get a boner.” The laugh he coughs out is sudden, and genuine, and something of a relief. “Okay, Gwen. If that makes you feel better.” With a soft smile, I crawl onto his bed. “Yes, I’m doing all this to make me feel better.”

So I focus on loving myself. And most days, I do. Especially my ass and side boob. I’m a big fan of them,” I add, to lighten my gloomy monologue. “Fuck. Me too,”

he’s pulled the covers open—a silent invitation for me to join him beneath them. I stare at the spot where I know I’ll fit so perfectly, wondering if I’m crossing a line I shouldn’t. I decide I don’t care. I decide that where Sebastian Rousseau is concerned, I’ll take what I can get. It might not be forever, but I’ll settle for right now. So I slip under the duvet and let him hold me.

I’m past pretending I don’t want this, at least—someone to wake up with. To share a coffee with. To enjoy the view with. It’s not even the sex I miss. It’s companionship. The comfort of knowing that if I’m sick, someone will be there to help. That when I get home from working a brutal wildfire, I won’t have to sit with it alone. That at the end of the day, I’ll have someone to hold for the night, letting my breathing fall in time with theirs. It’s the simple things. It’s building a life with someone. I’d settle for just that. But it can’t be just someone. I think deep down I want it to be the one. I’ve been hurt too badly for it not to be. And when I think of the one, I think of her.

“My wife,” he says plainly, like this isn’t the first time I’m hearing about her. “Got all her pictures up at my place. You’ve never noticed them?”

“I’m sorry, Clyde. I don’t think I ever paid close enough attention. Next time we’re there, you could show me?” I say, trying to smooth over the lump of guilt in my gut. “It was a long time ago. She’s been gone for forty-odd years now.”

“Blood clot got her. She passed peacefully. Though I’ll never get over taking her to the hospital and being told it was a migraine. Got sent home that night. She died in her sleep. So anyway, enjoy your life while you’ve got it. That’s what I say. Tomorrow is never promised.” He says it like it’s not one of the saddest stories I’ve heard. Like it wasn’t wholly unnecessary. And suddenly, little bits of Clyde’s personality slip into place for me. His mistrust of the medical system. His belief in so many zany things. Why wouldn’t he? Why shouldn’t he? An event like that would have a profound effect on a person.

“Hey, Clyde, was Elvis Presley’s death faked?” “Hey, Clyde, was the moon landing faked by the government?” “Hey, Clyde, did they add fluoride to water sources just to make people sickly?” “Hey, Clyde, is the earth flat or round?” “Hey, Clyde, who built the pyramids, Egyptians or aliens?” To that one he says, “Of course the Egyptians built the pyramids, but aliens commissioned them.”

Sleeping next to Bash had been peaceful in a way that I don’t know I’ve experienced before. It was a quiet companionship, a soothing connection. It was just more. Everything with Bash has been, since the first time we met.

We’re just… We’re being mature. It’s complicated.” Clyde scoffs. “It’s not complicated. You look at her like she hung the moon, and she’s the only woman in the world who finds your shitty attitude to be endearing.”

“Honestly, I kind of want some of everything? It looks amazing.” She sounds bashful admitting she wants it all, whereas I’m just thrilled she doesn’t hate what I made. “Coming right up. What my girl wants, she gets.”

“You liked it?” “No.” He tenses, and I smile. He’s so easy to rile up sometimes. “I loved it.” “What did you like the best? So I know for next time.” My heart does this girlish pitter-patter in my chest. Next time. God, I hope so. “I couldn’t choose. I loved all of it equally. Can’t go wrong. And I’m not just saying that to flatter you.” He lets out a low grunting sound as his hands twist on the steering wheel. “Fine. I’ll just make it all again.”

I’ve never known a man with a heart so big. And I think that’s the thing I love about him the most. Love.

“Sorry, concentrating is hard right now. Have you heard of competence porn? It’s kind of my thing. And you, Bash, are extremely competent.” He shakes his head, amusement curving his lips as his hands work to restrain me securely. “Just trying to keep you safe.” “You will,”

“Head out of the gutter, Rousseau. I’m trying to be strapped in safely here.” I get an eye roll as he settles in front of me and lifts an oversize headset over my head. His gaze locks on mine as he grumbles, “My head’s been in the gutter since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

“Look at you go!” Bash laughs now, the deep sound vibrating through my headset. “Gwen, this is my job. It would be like me clapping when you roll out a yoga mat. Even though when I see that ass in leggings, it makes me want to.” I cough out a slightly surprised laugh at the absurd comparison. “If you don’t clap the next time I do, I will be deeply disappointed.”

“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’d fly around all day just to watch her gaze out the window in awe. That breathy little giggle she makes is music to my fucking ears. I’d sell my soul to hear that more often.

My eyes narrow at her jeans like they’ve done something unforgivable. Because they have. By merely existing. I want Gwen in my lap. And I want her naked while she is.

“What about Tripp?” I hold her gaze but reach forward and flick open the button on her jeans. “He’ll have to get over it.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. Because I’ll never forgive myself if I let you get away again.”

“Is that all? Oh?” I ask, circling now, watching a flush creep up her chest and over her throat. “Yes,” she says, chin dropping back down as she presses her pussy against my hand. I draw it away with a knowing smirk. “Yes, what, Gwen? I’m going to need you to use your words. Because I’m about to snap and fuck you right here in this plane, but I need to know you want it first.”

“I’m close.” “Yeah?” She nods, and I add a third finger, reveling in the desperate cry that spills from her lips. “Good. Come on my fingers. Then I’ll make you come while you ride my cock.”

“Here?” I lean in closer, trailing kisses up the side of her neck, my tongue darting out to taste her sweet skin. When I reach her ear, I return the favor and bite down on the lobe. “Yeah. And then at home. In my bed. In my shower. Bent over the balcony with a view of the lake. God, I’ve dreamed of this ass.”

“Lose the fucking jeans, Gwen,” I bite out, trying to hang on to some shred of control. “Or what?” she taunts, twisting her grip again and giving me her best bratty look. “Or I’m going to blow all over your hand instead of in your tight little cunt.”

Luckily, Gwen is agile—thank god for yoga—and peels her jeans off easily. All that’s left are her white lace panties. She hooks a finger under the waist, ready to pull them off too, but I reach forward to stop her. “Leave ’em. I can’t wait. I’ll pull them to the side.”

Now I can see her properly. Curved hips tapering into her waist. Full, tear-dropped breasts heaving. Pussy on display. Puffy lips glistening with her cum. “I am really regretting this small space because I want to see you from every angle, Gwen.”

“I love you like this.” “Like what?” she murmurs, entranced. “All mine.” Our eyes meet in the dim cockpit. “I am.” And fuck, it’s music to my ears. “Mine,” I repeat, increasing the speed of my shallow thrusts. “All yours,”

“You know I can get into the truck myself,” I say, curving a brow in his direction. He shrugs. “Yeah, I know. But I think I’ve spent enough time not touching you.”

“Does that count as our first date?” he asks, making me smile into the warm light. “I’d say so.” “Thank fuck.” I glance his way, curious about his response. “Why?” He shoots me a borderline playful glance from the driver’s seat. “Now you have to tell me your full name.”

I told him then that my full name was first-date material…and he remembered. “Guinevere.”

“Bash, this is actually so romantic,” I tease. “You planned me a big birthday party? The perpetual bachelor and town loner invited other people to his trash can just for me?”

He kisses me back, so full of longing that it makes my chest ache. “Thank you,” I whisper, pulling away slightly. “I needed that.” He plants one more quick, firm kiss against my lips, and then another, like he just can’t help himself. Like he just can’t get enough.

When he looks at me like this, I feel like I might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. I feel like I’m his.

So let’s go get this over with. Start early and end early. Then you can follow through on all the things you said because it would be plain rude to break those promises on my birthday.” His lips curl into the most subtle of smiles. “Yeah, that’s probably true. Can’t be lying to my girl on her birthday.”

“It’s nice to see him like this. He works so hard. He’s so tightly wound sometimes. Now he’s out there getting all wild. Bare feet, shirt buttons undone one too far…”

“A beer in his hand, big old hickey on his neck.”

“Hey, listen. I had to follow you up here because…” My words die as Bash steps out of the closet, shirtless and utterly distracting. I lick my lips, scanning the hard lines of his chest, and finish in a breathy voice. “Because I needed to get you alone.” His head tilts, then he trails a finger from his torso up to his face. “Gwen, my eyes are up here.”