Page 187 of Burn the Wild

“Bastard. Stole it right out from under me,” Charlie grumbles, but he’s grinning. They’re all grinning. They’re happy Ford is staying, their rugged faces relieved and full of joy.

Ford reaches for my hand and settles it in his lap. “Maybe have a couple of babies—do that picket fence shit y’all seem to enjoy.” Ford’s gaze flickers to me and locks. My heart pounds. In a room of so many, it feels like there’s only me and Ford. I stare at him, knowing he’s everything I ever wanted. A protector, a hero, my backup. But most importantly, my freedom.

Anything I ask for, he’ll give it.

But all I want is him.

“Grow old and happy?” Dakota says.

“Something like that.”

“Aw, Ford,” Ruby croons. “I always knew you were a romantic.”

Ford grins. “You know, Fairy Tale, I think you might be right.”

With the cake finished and the happy thoughts proclaimed, it’s time to hit the dance floor. Davis and Dakota are the first ones on it, while Charlie heads to the bar for another pitcher of beer. I sign two autographs before slipping back to rejoin Ford and Ruby at our high-top.

“Having fun?” Ford murmurs.

“So much fun.” I kiss him, then pull back. “I’m not sure about those two.”

He follows my line of sight and sighs.

Across the room, in a darkened corner, Fallon and Wyatt are deep in conversation—or maybe it’s an argument. Either way, it’s like love, hate, and everything in between is exchanged during their heated looks.

Fallon storms for the exit, but Wyatt follows, catching her wrist. She whirls around and hits him with a look that would scare a fully grown man. But Wyatt doesn’t back down. They stand inches apart, eyes blazing.

Ford leans in, flipping his baseball cap backward. “Fallon chooses violence, and Wyatt says,Please, may I have another?”

“Everyone, hush, my show is on,” Ruby says, waving a hand, her eyes glued to Fallon and Wyatt.

Charlie settles beside us. “Ah, Christ, not this again.”

“You’re all very invested in this,” I say, slurping a bright pink concoction Ruby recommended. The furnace in my stomach tells me it’s working.

“We have to be,” Ruby says solemnly. “They want to kiss each other.”

“Or knuckle box,” Charlie says wryly. Then he growls, running a hand down Ruby’s ass. She squeaks and practically dives into his broad chest. “C’mon, Sunflower. Let’s dance.”

Ford holds out a hand to me. “Want to show ’em how it’s done, Birdie Girl?”

“I do.” I bite my lip, watching as Fallon slams out the front door. “One second, though.”

“Don’t go far,” he says, always worried.

“I won’t.” I give him a smile. “Pick us a song.”

His face softens. “I can do that.”

Outside, I find Fallon kicking gravel in the parking lot. A cigarette dangles from her lips. Wind tears at us, and a rumble comes from the sky.

“You know,” she says as I approach, “I’d like to lightly pummel someone or destroy something or gnash my teeth until I feel like someone real and deserving again.”

“Are you okay?”

She takes a drag on her cigarette. Looks toward the window where our group dances inside. “Everyone’s too goddamn cute. Too goddamn happy.”

“And what are you?”

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