Wild (Wild #1)

Three

I bundled up in a chunky cardigan with a scarf, wool socks, and boots, and headed out for the library.

The temperatures had dropped below freezing last night and I was dressed in layers because the furnace had gone to shit in the wee hours of the morning. I'd known there was a problem when I'd bought the furnace filter—it was a last ditch effort to rectify the situation with no such luck.

My lips felt like frozen icicles and a shiver ran through my body as I darted to my car and cranked the old engine. It flared to life and I cranked the heat immediately. It blew cold air, but I didn't care; I needed the warmth the very second it kicked in. The only upside to the furnace going now was that it wasn't the dead of winter when the nor'easters blew in and froze the cabin from the inside out.

I flew up the steps to the library, taking them two at a time and bursting through the door, thankful for the heat. I didn't live far out of town, so I was at my new job before the heater had really even kicked in. I started peeling off layers and hanging them on the hook next to the door as I glanced out the window. Leaves danced across the sidewalks and gathered in gutters. Some stubborn ones still hung on as the wind curled and flipped in the bright September sunlight.

My eyes scanned the small park across the street. It was empty except for a man with a camera taking pictures. I squinted to get a better look. My heart kicked up in my chest and my palms tingled with the sense of being watched. I stood stock-still as the photographer aimed the camera at the library and presumably snapped a few pictures. I clutched at the old windowsill as I tried to control my breathing. Finally, the photographer turned and tilted the camera toward the treetops.

Jesus, he was taking pictures of the fall colors. And the library was a historic building. Probably a tourist that had come to enjoy fall in a small New England town.

I needed to stop my nerves from getting the best of me.

Not everyone was out to get me. I was far, far from home. In a town where nobody knew me, or where I came from, or my name. I was safe.

I straightened and steeled my spine as the photographer ambled along the walkway and continued snapping pictures of the sights surrounding him.

"It gets a lot colder than that up here. I hope you're prepared." Claire stepped out from the back room and took in my excessive clothing with a chuckle.

"Oh, I know. The furnace went out this morning," I mumbled and turned away from the window.

"Oh, honey, you must be frozen half to death. I'll call William and get him to fix it before you get home today."

"Thank you." I smiled and went straight for the coffee that she'd made in the back room. I stepped back out and we chatted for a few minutes while I sipped the hot liquid before I got to work, restocking the shelves.

I pulled into the narrow dirt driveway of my cabin later that afternoon. Claire had said her husband would take care of the furnace, but I was surprised to find a truck parked up by the cabin. One I'd seen before: black matte paint, a row of lights on the hood, oversized in every way, just like the man that drove it.

What on earth was he doing here? This was seriously beginning to feel like it crossed into full-on stalker territory.

I narrowed my eyes as I slung grocery bags over my arm. I stepped out of my car and stomped up the steps and through the front door. The house was silent. I scanned the shoreline, looking for the stranger that I couldn't seem to escape. The one I'd shared a wild, passionate night of the best sex of my life.

I thought about our night together, before we'd left for his place.

Up against the wall in the bar, he'd captured my lips with his own and thrust his hand down the front of my dress, his fingers kneading my breast almost painfully. My fingers raked through his dark and disheveled hair, a moan escaping my throat. His blue eyes blazed as he took me in, writhing underneath him, so close to losing it, I thought my body would explode from his gaze.