Page 18 of Turbulent Fires

“You’ll figure it out, and in the meantime, I can keep teasing you. It’s a win-win for me.”

“We enjoy each other suffering a little too much at times,” I tell her with a laugh.

“Of course we do, as long as it’s this kind of suffering. Neither of us ever wants the other to truly hurt,” she says.

“That goes without saying. I love you. I’m going to finish my work and crash early tonight so I can have a full day tomorrow.”

“Love you too. Can’t wait to read the next blog. I hope the ghosts tickle your fancy tonight,” she says.

I laugh hard as I hang up the phone. With how achy my body has been since meeting Wolf Young, I wouldn’t mind a ghost helping me out. Wow! I’m pretty dang desperate if I’m wanting to be violated by a ghost. I really should pull my act together.

I toss and turn all night, and am a bit cranky in the morning when I wake up to walk down the path from the inn to the beach. I laugh when I realize it’s only a little cove. There will be no morning jog at this secluded place. I manage to get in a nice run on the trails surrounding the area, though, so I feel good enough to munch through some more snacks as I travel the Oregon Coastline. I send Wolf a picture of the woods before I begin my drive. It doesn’t take him long to respond.

Wolf:Hot. Thinking of you in the woods sounds like a great setup for a romance... or a thriller. Text me you’re alive when you’re out safe and sound.

I laugh again as I quickly respond.

Me:I’m tucked safely in my vehicle now. I might’ve spotted Bigfoot behind a tree, but he was too shy for me to get a picture.

Wolf:Too bad. I’ve always had a thing for Bigfoot.

Me:If you’re into the whole hippie thing, you’ll be sadly disappointed in me.

Wolf:Baby, I’ll take you just as you are. There’s nothing about you that disappoints me.

Me:Smooth talker. I’m gonna drive now, so no more texting.

Wolf:MMMMMMMMM, I love a bossy woman. Wanna pull out your whip and make me behave?

Holy hell! This man! I blush as I put my phone down. I’m not going to go there. I clench my thighs together and drive. Maybe I need to stop at a toy shop and pick up a vibrating boyfriend. If only that sounded as appealing as Wolf, but it doesn’t come close, dammit.

I manage to go the entire day without messaging the man. I tell myself I’m not going to. But when I get home and sink into my oversized tub filled with soapy water, I reach for my phone.

Me:I made it home. It was touch and go for a while because I stopped at a park where a bandit squirrel tried to steal my granola bar.

Wolf:I’ll kick the squirrel’s ass. No one messes with my woman.

These words send a shiver down my entire body. I don’t like how good it feels for him to call me his. I’m in much deeper trouble than I realized. I decide not to acknowledge his second sentence.

Me:You’re a silly man. I can fight my own battles.

Wolf:You love all sides of me, and you know it.

I gaze at the screen far longer than I should as I read these words. He’s not wrong. I truly can’t name anything I dislike about the man. He’s not only flirty, but he’s attentive and remembers what I say to him. He knows my favorite places to go, asks me about my writing, and even sends me voice messages of him humming silly songs that make me laugh. Without me knowing when, my walls started to crumble. It’s happening slowly, but it’s certainly happening. I should pull back immediately. Spoiler alert, that’s not going to happen. No, I don’t think I’m going anywhere right now... or in the near future.

Chapter Seven

Wolf

Catalina Island is definitely my reset button. From the moment I touch down on the tiny airstrip at the top of the mountain, I can smell salt in the breeze and feel my blood pressure drop a solid ten points. There aren’t a lot of areas of California that are still paradise, but this island is a place all to itself, a whole other world away from bustling cities. I dare anyone who comes to the island not to instantly fall in love.

I arrived early in the morning and spent the day hiking on my own. Tonight, though, is boys’ night out. There will be no fawning women, no work, no worries, just the Young brothers, Armstrong brothers, and a whole lot of alcohol that always tastes better on the island, where all worries are instantly carried away in the breeze.

I move from the house to JL’s Sports Bar and can hear the excited buzz as I step through the doors. There’s the usual mix of locals, yacht guys in flip-flops that cost more than some cars, such as the eighteen-thousand-dollar Chipko’s, and tourists trying to act casual while taking selfies with their buffalo milks and Jello shots.

I make my way to the back, where our usual spot has been secured. A few high-top tables have been pushed together, and they’re already full of pitchers of beer, expensive shots of tequila, and enough testosterone to knock a hole in the wall.

Cooper raises his glass as I confidently stride toward them. “Look what the ocean breeze blew in.”

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