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The shitshow that is my life.
And now Angel Harbor, the quaint little town I call home, has turned into a true crime documentary—or will be soon.
And I’m falling for one of the guys who seems to be in the middle of it. Wilder. Okay, that’s not the entire truth. He’s not dead center, but being a Reckless Soul, he’s a big part of it.
He’s also young and very fucking pretty. And I’m in love with him. That’s all kinds of stupid.
Sure, he’s a far better man I thought when this all began. He’s a good man with a big heart and a bigger dick. So many of the qualities any woman would want in a man. But he still does bad things and doesn’t lead a law-abiding life.
What’s happening to me, my home and this town is concrete proof of that.
Still, I know what’s in my heart. I also know I wouldn’t have let last night happen if I didn’t love him. That kind of trust doesn’t come easy to me, and for some reason, with this man who kidnapped me and held me hostage, that trust came easily.
I shiver just thinking about the look in his eyes while he fucked me. It was a look of something beyond lust, as if I matter to him in a big way.
Wilder’s the worst possible man I could fall in love with, especially now. I know it’s not his fault, the things that happened to me with Cyrus and the Iron Kings. I know that down to my bones, but he is a part of this. His mere existence is part of the reason I’m in this predicament.
It’s also the reason I’m in love again.
Too many thoughts are battling in my mind. As soon as the lines die down, I make my escape back to the kitchen where peace and quiet reside.
I can’t be in love with Wilder, I tell myself. Yet, I am.
He’s too young for me. Too wild. His life is too unstable and dangerous, two things I’ve worked like hell to stay away from. There’s danger all around, and being with him means I’ll be in perpetual danger.
And I’m really too old for this shit.
My shoulders sink as reality crashes down over me.
So instead of thinking about the man, I prep more cake batter and lose myself in the dance of baking.
Dry ingredients plus wet ingredients and stir. More fat if necessary, bake and cool before decorating. I don’t know how much time passes while I bake cakes, cool cakes, and then decorate cakes, but the fist-squeezing I’ve been doing all morning finally loosens. I can—blessedly—breathe again.
Willow is looking after the customers, and at this point, I’m sure she’s cleaning up after the breakfast crowd. God bless ‘em, but they always leave a big fat mess in their wake.
Willow pushes into the kitchen with a frown that puts me on high alert.
“Um, Maven. someone’s here to see you.”
My shoulders tense automatically, visions of Cyrus and his biker buddies forming a long, intimidating line at my front counter. “Who is it?”
“Po-po. Five-Oh. The boys in blue.”
Despite her serious words, I can’t help but laugh. “The police?”
Willow nods.
“Shit,” I growl and take my time scraping every last bit of batter from the stainless steel bowl and into cake pans. “I’ll be out as soon as I get these cakes in the oven.”
Willow nods, but one of the officers makes his presence known, and I signal for Willow to leave us alone.
“I’m afraid this is important, Ms. Yates.” The officer smiles, a move that highlights his boyish good looks. “When was the last time you were at your home?”
I sigh and shake my head. “It’s been a few days,” I tell him honestly. “I’ve been staying with a friend.”
The officer nods and scribbles something on his tiny black pad. “There was a report of gunshots, and your place has been vandalized.”
I swallow and feign the shock I know he expects. “Gunshots? Vandalized? Do I need to do anything?”
