Wild Card

by Elsie Silver

And that voice? It’s the furthest thing from girlish. That voice is all grown-up. It’s not giddy or overly bright. It’s all honey and spice, smooth with a hint of heat—borderline sensual without even trying.

He’s just encountered a modern-day Marilyn Monroe—but she’s even more buxom. Loose, platinum waves fall next to full cheeks and a button nose. But it’s her big blue doe eyes that are a fucking kick to the gut. They’re so vibrant, I swear they trend toward a lavender tone.

I deemed her pretty before, but I was wrong—she’s fucking gorgeous.

So, no, Bash, the grump whose dark, heavy brows are tugged down tight with an adorable little wrinkle at the top of his nose, does not put me off at all.

It would appear “Bash” is short for Sebastian Rousseau. Even his name is hot, I think to myself distractedly.

Yeah, she’s hot as hell. She’s fucking trouble.

She doesn’t give a fuck what I think. Nor should she. And I admire that about her.

“Oh, tonight? Tonight is just our meet-cute. It’s the night we’ll tell our kids about one day. Remember?”

It’s hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that I’ve met a lot of people in my life but they don’t get under my skin the way Sebastian Rousseau has.

The entire week has left me feeling low. Until Gwen sat her fine ass in the chair across from me and made herself at home. She made me feel better.

To the outside observer, it would appear that I’m staring at the guy I showed up here with. But they would be wrong. I’m staring at his dad.

What I do know for sure is that it’s been eight months, and I still think about Sebastian Rousseau every damn day.

“The fuck did you just say to her?” Bash’s voice is cold as ice from across the table.

Then I regretfully turn my attention to West and the cake. It’s delicious. But not delicious enough to steal my wandering thoughts away from the woman seated across from me.

“For example, right now my thoughts start to turn to what must you think of me? I was often told growing up that I’m too much⁠—” “Who the fuck told you that?”

All I know is that the first thing that comes to mind is, If I live, I’m coming after you.

My eyes catch on the lavender as I turn back to Gwen. Pretty flowers and pretty Gwen. The color reminds me of her eyes.

“God. I really should not want you this badly,”

“The thing is, Gwen, next time you want to watch me, you should just ask.”

All I can think about is…how good they’d be together. Not as good as she and I would be.

So now, while hiding in the shadows, I soak her in. 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.

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

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.

She’d be warm and soft, and she’d smell like lavender. I’d pull her closer and stare at her for so long that when I closed my eyes, the shape of her would be burned on the back of my lids.

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.

But it’s so much more than that. It’s the realization that she’s everything I want.

For someone who spent so many years working to find beauty in her body, I don’t need to try at all with Bash.

“Coming right up. What my girl wants, she gets.”

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

“My head’s been in the gutter since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

“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.

“Yeah. Because I’ll never forgive myself if I let you get away again.”

“The only thing I’ve been able to think about is that I don’t want him so much as looking at what’s mine.”

There have been times in my life when I might have felt self-conscious in a moment like this, but with Bash, every insecurity evaporates. With Bash, all I see in his eyes is love. Or, well, not love but definitely admiration. And certainly affection.

But the truth of the matter is I did meet her first. It was only one night, but in an endless sea of nights that were only ever numb, she made me feel something.

With her, the world looks so different. So much better. For the first time in years, I feel excited about the future. With her, anything is possible.

Where my father found faults, Bash only finds beauty.

“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.”

“You’re my limes, Bash. I’m the tequila. You and me? We’re gonna spend the rest of our lives making margaritas, okay?”