To Claim a Wilde (Wilde In Wyoming Book 6) (8 page)

Chapter 9

“T
his time, nothing is going to stop us from finishing what we started. Are you ready, baby?”

Naomi’s heart slammed against her rib cage, her breathing coming out in short hitching breaths.

She opened her mouth, ready to speak, to admit what she couldn’t, hadn’t been able to for over seven years.

“Are you ready for all of me?” he asked, his cornflower-blue eyes staring a hole that seemed to go directly to her soul, reaching in and snatching it out. Her soul, defenseless and of no more use to her, or anyone who was there in his hands.

A garbled sound, a mix of pain and something else, wailed up inside Naomi as she watched him close his fist and crush her soul, her heart...her spirit.

Again, she opened her mouth to speak, to admit a truth she never had before. Not to him, her friends, her mom and dad. Not even to herself.

The sudden insistent
ding
of her alarm finally penetrated her hazy half asleep, half awake state of awareness.

Dare she do it? She’d dreamed of him off and on for years. And now here they were back where they started.

Why had she left all those years ago?

Even to herself, Naomi didn’t admit the truth; she’d run from it in the same way that she’d run from him.

But coming back home, lying in the same bed she had seven years ago, as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t completely lie or hide the truth. At least not to herself, not anymore.

She’d wanted to feel
everything
with him. She’d wanted to experience everything, not just bits and pieces. As good as those bits and pieces were.

She’d wanted it all.

But not just that. Besides the lovemaking, she’d wanted his love. She didn’t know him, had grown up with him in the way that anyone had with anyone else growing up in a community.

They hadn’t even been contemporaries in school, as she was a few years younger than him.

But that night seven years ago had sealed her fate.

And scared as hell, not wanting to give up on her dreams, she’d run. And run fast.

And now, seven years later, what was it that she felt, if anything? she wondered, and groaned.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You are not a kid anymore, with a kid’s crush. You are a grown woman.”

She spoke out loud, softly, ignoring that voice in her head that mocked and scorned her.
A grown woman with a schoolgirl crush
...

Naomi leaned up and grabbed her pillow from beneath her head, before falling back on the mattress, then she smashed it over her face. As though that would smother the very loud, very annoying inner mocking voice, one hell-bent on forcing her to admit a truth she didn’t want to challenge.

That realization of truth, one she wasn’t ready to address, hovered in her subconscious. To admit the true nature of her fear wasn’t something she was ready to confront.

Her eyes were shut tight behind the pillow she still held in place.

Yet a stubborn, single tear ran down her cheek before she slowly removed the down pillow and pulled the quilt her mother had made for her long ago up to her chin and stared up at the ceiling.

* * *

“So, baby, how did it go yesterday? I tried to wait up for you, but, well, I must have fallen asleep. Didn’t wake up until this morning. With your dad rustling around as loud as he is, who could keep on sleeping?” Roslyn McBride fussed, with a small laugh.

Naomi jumped up in bed and turned, startled and lost in her own thoughts, not expecting to see her mother come through her bedroom door.

With her hand hovering over her breasts in the universal sign of being surprised, Naomi sat further up in the bed, scooting her body until her head hit the wicker headboard. She turned toward her mother’s soft voice.

Her mother frowned. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asked, concern in her voice, and Naomi smiled, bobbing her head up and down, inviting her mother to come inside her room with a wave of her hand.

Her mother crossed the threshold and walked in, two steaming mugs of what Naomi knew was her favorite cocoa in her hands as she walked toward the bed. She placed the mugs on the side table before she sat on the bed, near Naomi.

A gentle smile graced her mother’s lightly aged face as she lifted a hand and pushed away strands of Naomi’s curls. Another habit held over from childhood. Naomi’s hair was always escaping whatever bun she tried placing it in.

This time it was made messier by all the tossing and turning she’d done last night after returning from her visit with Canton Wilde.

That, and a night of back-to-back dreams featuring Canton Wilde and her, doing things she knew had to be illegal in a few states.

If not, they should be.

And of course the intimate things she’d allowed him to do to her...

She felt her cheeks heat. Again, her mother frowned, and reached out a hand to touch her forehead.

“You’re not coming down with anything, are you, baby?” Her hand moved from Naomi’s forehead to touch her hair softly. “I told you that you shouldn’t have gone outside with your hair wet yesterday! You’ll catch a cold for sure,” her mother scolded, and Naomi laughed softly.

“Mom, first off, my hair wasn’t wet yesterday, but even if it
was
...you can’t catch a cold from going outside with wet hair.”

“Well, I know you’re the doctor in the family, but I’m still your mother. And I say stop going outside with a wet head, girl,” Roslyn McBride chided her only daughter as she lifted the mugs from the side table and Naomi just nodded.

She accepted the mug her mother gave her and leaned back against the headboard. “I’m fine, Mom. Just had a long day yesterday. I had my appointment with the Wildes,” she said, even though she knew her mother already knew that. In fact, she’d discussed it with her mother before leaving the day before.

“You didn’t tell Daddy, did you?” she asked, reminding her mother of her promise to keep Naomi’s involvement in trying to help her parents between them.

“Of course I haven’t, Pooh,” she said, calling Naomi by the nickname she’d been called since she was a child, which made her almost want to cry.

With all the complications going on in her life, her parents, her career, there were times Naomi wished she could go back to those days of long ago.

“And?” her mother prodded her, gently, concern etched deeply in her dark brown eyes, eyes that were a different shade but as uniquely shaped as Naomi’s.

Naomi would do anything she could to permanently remove the sad and stressed-out look from her mother’s eyes.

After the deal she made with Canton, she knew she could, yet she hesitated, not wanting to give her false hope, but needing to tell her mother what happened.

“Well,” she started, dragging out the word. “I went out to the Wildes’ and remember I told you the meeting was supposed to be with Tiber?” she asked, and her mother nodded. “Turns out he’s away, overseas on business. So I ended up having my meeting with Canton.”

Seeing the optimistic look in her mother’s eyes, Naomi was torn. She didn’t want to bring her hopes up, but the outrageous bargain Canton had offered her, the ultimatum he’d given her to help her family, was one she had agreed to.

Although she was close with her mother and shared a lot with her, Naomi had never told her about the one-time meeting, up-close-and-personal encounter years ago with Canton.

And there was no way on earth she could ever tell her mother about what she had agreed to with him.

“No matter, sweetie, we’ll figure something out,” Roslyn McBride said, infusing what Naomi knew was false bravado into her voice. Obviously, her mother thought the meeting hadn’t gone well.

“Oh, Momma.” Naomi sighed, placing the mug back on the table to wrap her arms around her mother’s slight shoulders and hug her. Her mother hugged her back, her hands tightening around her before she gave her a light pat on the back.

Roslyn pushed her away and lightly caressed Naomi’s face.

If she didn’t know before, if her mind hadn’t been made up, looking at the fear her mother was trying to hide from her made the decision a no-brainer.

“Actually, Momma, I have some good news,” she began, and forced a bright tone into her voice as she proceeded to fill her mother in.

She left out the intimate details—there was no way she could ever tell her mother any of that—yet managed to tell her of Canton’s need for assistance as he attended events in place of his brother. Definitely glossing over all mention of anything of an intimate nature, she led her mother to believe it was simply a business arrangement.

In exchange for her much-needed help, Canton would help the family.

For a moment, while doing the whole
glossing
thing, Naomi felt her face heat with a blush, thinking of Canton and the part she was glossing over.

Naomi thought she saw a look or shadow cross her mother’s face, but it was fleeting.

“Are you okay with that, baby? You can take that much time off from going back to work?”

Naomi shrugged. “It’s fine, Momma. I spoke with my new boss, Dr. Mason,” she replied with a casual shrug. She moved to the side to allow her mother more room on the bed. “I don’t officially start at his clinic for a few more weeks. I told him I needed time to spend with the family before I began. He understood. It’s not the busy time yet, and the pediatrician I’m replacing is still at the clinic until the first of next month.”

“He doesn’t know about—”

“No, Mom,” Naomi interrupted, her temper rising. “He doesn’t know about the family’s problems. But really, isn’t that the least of
our
problems right now? I mean, is that all that matters to you and Dad? What other people think?” Naomi replied with a sigh.

Pride. Pride was the reason her parents hadn’t told her about the back taxes. She brushed aside the irritation.

“You know, Mom, there’s no shame in what happened to you and Dad. If you all had told me earlier, maybe—” She stopped, not wanting to hurt her mother any more than she already had.

She turned toward her mother, immediately sorry for her criticism when she saw the hurt look in her soft dark brown eyes.

Her mother sat near Naomi, stretching her legs out. She propped her head against the headboard, mimicking Naomi’s posture. Something they had done from the time she was a child and her mother would come into her room, and they would talk about whatever was bothering Naomi.

Work it out. It was what her family always did. Together. Worked out their problems.

Now, it was her mother and father who needed her help. She knew at that moment, no matter
what
she had to do, she
would
do it for her parents.

The two were silent, both lost in their own thoughts.

“Yes, I think it’s all going to be fine, Momma. We’ll get through this together,” she stated softly, her mind immediately bringing up the image of the one man who had never been far from her thoughts, from the moment she’d returned home.

Naomi placed her head on her mother’s shoulder as her mother stroked her head.

Naomi wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince more, her mother or herself.

She forced away the sting of tears that burned the back of her eyes.

Chapter 10

“Y
es, it’s coming along as expected. No real bumps in the road to speak of. Hell no, uhh, I mean, no. No, sir.” He repeated his statement. “I’ve got that big oaf covered.”

There was a small pause as Cyrus White nervously rubbed the thumb of one hand onto the palm of the other, left eye twitching unconsciously as he did so. He felt his shoulder jerk in symphony.

It was what he did, he knew, whenever he was nervous.

Cyrus knew that his lapse of language etiquette was distasteful to his superior. The twitching got worse. He hoped the man didn’t notice it.

He was doing all that he could to move up the chain at Rolling Hills by literally kissing the man’s ass. He’d do that if he had to. His superior promised him if he did a good job
this
time, unlike the last job, with that other group of Wildes, he’d bring him in to work directly for him at Rolling Hills.

No more dirty jobs no one wanted to do. He’d be cruising with the big dogs. A grin replaced the twitchy one of moments before.

As he listened to the other man on the end of the line, Cyrus rolled his eyes and whirled his chair around in his seat, staring out over the downtown Cheyenne skyline, doing his best to curb his irritation with his contact and superior at Rolling Hills.

God, get me out of the godforsaken place,
he prayed, even though he wouldn’t exactly call himself a believer in any deity coming to his rescue. Or a believer in any deity at all.

That ship had sailed long, long ago.

Cyrus White held back a sigh of malcontent as he listened to the boring man continue his even more boring monologue on the importance of patience.

“Patience and due diligence will ensure we win this race,” he finished, his haughty voice filled with that irritating superior tone that made Cyrus want to stab the man’s eyes out. Repeatedly.

Cyrus’s mouth curled in a sneer.

He listened as the man droned on, and on, giving him instruction on how he expected Cyrus to conduct the meet and greet they had planned, in an attempt to finally get the Wildes to come on board.

“You understand this is important.”

It was several seconds before Cyrus realized he was expected to answer. He bobbed his head up and down in agreement and wanted to kick his own ass when he realized his nervousness was making him look stupid. He spoke up swiftly, assuring his superior that he did, indeed.

“Very good. Now, surely, I don’t need to reiterate to you the importance of getting that ‘big oaf’ to feel good about what we have planned, no?” he said, and again Cyrus cringed.

Ignoring the pompous way he spoke, along with the fake cosmopolitan accent he’d taken on, one Cyrus knew good and damn well wasn’t genuine. Cyrus should know; they’d both grown up in the same poor town in Texas. Despite all that, Cyrus knew his superior didn’t miss a thing.

He should have known he’d caught his lowbrow reference to Canton Wilde. He needed to make sure he was more careful in the future.

Like it or not, his superior was his way in, for now at least, to move up the ranks at Rolling Hills. For now.

“Yes, of course. I’ll make sure it happens. I’ll give him more warm fuzzies than a burlap sack of rabbits in heat.”

There was a moment of silence after Cyrus spoke.

Damn it!

As soon as he uttered the crude humor, Cyrus wanted to bite out his own tongue. Would he never learn?

He pressed his fingers to his suddenly throbbing temple.

Would he ever learn the sophistication he needed to impress his superior?

His superior’s startled laughter stopped him, mid–mental rant.

For long moments the other man laughed. Unsure if that was a good thing or not, Cyrus nervously laughed along with him.

“Awww, what am I going to do with you, my little friend? You make me laugh,
mon ami
. Awwww,” he replied, his surprisingly high-pitched giggle startling Cyrus. “You’re going to be just fine!” his superior finished after his laughter had died down.

He was so relieved that he hadn’t messed up....again... Cyrus didn’t allow the slur against his height to get to him this time.

Once he’d assured his superior that he had it all under control, he was ready to ask about when he could expect his much-wanted promotion, hoping to at least start the dialogue.

“I’ve been wondering about what we spoke about the last time, sir,” he began, only to realize he was talking to himself.

His superior had already ended the call.

One day...one day he would be the one calling the shots, he promised himself, staring out at the waning sun as it disappeared behind the steel building.

Half the time he thought his superior, whom he’d never actually associated with in person, was never going to do what he promised. Or how many more hoops he’d have to jump through, how many more “jobs,” dirty jobs some of them, he’d have to perform to finally get “in.”

He wondered. Sometimes he thought his superior was stringing him along, that he didn’t have any real faith that Cyrus could get the job done. Didn’t think Cyrus had what it took.

Cyrus was always overlooked and underestimated. He knew what to do and how to make it happen. He had orchestrated the oldest Wilde’s departure from the scene, and had paid the foreign...scabs, he thought, his lip curling, a lot of money to do so.

He sighed. But it was money well spent. Tiber Wilde thought he was brilliant, that he could outthink Cyrus just because he was a lawyer. Cyrus hated lawyers. They all thought they were smarter than everyone else, just like his superior.

But he had easily manipulated the eldest Wilde. All it had taken was a little money...a lot of money, he mentally calculated, and he’d created an incident the smart-ass lawyer Wilde hadn’t been able to get away from dealing with personally.

Which had left Cyrus to deal with the second in command, Canton Wilde.

He could handle
that
Wilde.

A grin stretched his lips wide, revealing perfectly even, symmetrical, capped teeth he’d paid an arm and a leg for...to replace crooked, yellowed ones that had been his legacy from a disenfranchised, poor childhood.

“Now that the smart one is out of the way, it’ll be cake dealing with the ex-jock.” Cyrus White spoke aloud, his tongue swiping over the perfection of his teeth, his face balled into a derisive sneer.

His fingers steepled together as he stared absently out the window.

True, it hadn’t been quite as easy to manipulate the big oaf, as he’d thought it would.

The Cheshire grin slipped.

But he had a plan. All he had to do was convince the Wilde that he could trust him.