Page 72 of Wild and Wanted

‘We’d both just got our first sizeable cheque from our agent and Yolly bought a car with it. A brand new Mustang she called Fancy.’ Stevie’s mouth curved into a smile at the memory of seeing it for the first time. ‘Top of the range, all the bells and whistles, painted in orange fury.’

His low chuckle vibrated through her chest. ‘Good choice.’

Stevie laughed. ‘I told you, you would have liked her.’ The thought stuck in her throat. Her sister would have liked Clay.

She would have freaking loved that he’d popped Stevie’s cherry.

‘It was a powerful car and Mom was not impressed with Yolly blowing almost all her money on it.’

Why her mom had expected Yolly to get a more sensible vehicle, Stevie had no idea. Yolly had always loved flash.

‘But Yolly loved it and drove it everywhere, always volunteering to be designated driver if she went out with friends so she could show Fancy off. Mom worried whenever she went out in it and even tried to slip an AirTag into it until Yolly found her doing it and was furious.’

The sift of his fingers in her hair was drugging and Stevie leaned into it, appreciating how the soothing stroke was offsetting the turbulent memories.

‘The night of the accident Yolly had gone to the mixing studio we used to lay down some backing music for the album we’d been working on and had told Mom she’d be back by ten. When she wasn’t home by eleven Mom started calling her. She called and called. It wasn’t unusual for Yolly not to answer Mom’s calls but as midnight turned to one o’clock then one thirty, Mom really started to worry. I wasn’t overly worried, I figured she was with this muso guy from the studio she liked. But normally she’d respond to me if she was ignoring Mom and she hadn’t done that either.’

A build-up of moisture pricked at the backs of her lids and Stevie squeezed them tight. ‘And then at 2 a.m., I had just fallen asleep and… there was a knock on the door. It was the police telling us she’d been in an accident and that she’d been admitted to ICU in a critical condition.’

The hand in her hair slid to her shoulder, holding her firm, his thumb brushing rhythmically against her bicep. A tear slid from Stevie’s eye, splashing on his chest.

‘That must have been pretty frightening.’

‘It was. She was in ICU for four days on life support but… she was brain dead. Catastrophic cranial bleed. It was just… so hard to perceive because there was hardly a mark on her. I don’t think I stopped crying the entire length of her stay.’

‘Stevie…’ he whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’

But she barely heard him as her eyes flickered open. ‘When they switched off the machines it was… awful. Mom was… I’d never seen her like that. She crawled on the bed and gathered Yolly up like she was still a little girl.’ Stevie’s voice broke. ‘And she… wailed. I’ve never heard that noise come from anyone before. Not in real life. It was…’ Stevie shivered just thinking about the absolute human misery of it. ‘Haunting.’

Another tear fell then and Stevie didn’t know whether he could actually feel the moisture on his chest or not, but he held her a little tighter and did so for a long time after that, his lips nuzzling her hair. And it felt good, his presence in the silent desolation of her grief a true comfort.

‘Do they know how the accident happened?’ he asked eventually.

‘There was an investigation. She’d driven out of the city. Kelvin, this guy from the studio, told the police that she was going for a drive to let the pony loose for a bit. She did love doing that, finding a quiet road away from the city and planting her foot. They think from the skid marks on the road, maybe an animal ran out in front of her and because she was going really fast she lost control and it flipped several times before smashing into a tree.’

More silence then because what could he really say that wasn’t some kind of trite platitude which Stevie had already heard a thousand times? Yolly’s death was horrible and would continue to cast its long shadow over her family’s life, and that wasn’t something clichéd words could temper.

‘I miss her,’ she whispered. She missed her impulsive, vivacious, one-of-a-kind sister so damn much.

‘Yeah,’ he murmured as his fingers returned to gently play in her hair. ‘Yeah.’

Stevie shut her eyes then, letting his company and his caress wash over her as they lay in the silence and drifted to sleep.

21

CLAY

A few hours later, fully dressed, steaming mug of coffee in hand, Clay stood looking out his bedroom window which opened onto the back porch and the views beyond. The undulating expanse of pastures and trees provided the sweeping foreground to the rise of the distant mountains, their jagged peaks crisply defined against the backdrop of clear blue sky. Icy snow crowned the very tips and shimmered in the sunshine.

And he normally couldn’t get enough of this view. Until this morning. Where a much more fascinating view lay just behind him.

Turning, he leaned his ass against the pane, his gaze falling on naked, gangly limbs playing peek-a-boo with his sheets, the curve of an ass cheek, the long line of a spine, a hint of nape, the fall of silky hair against his pillow, the jut of a shoulder, a relaxed profile, mouth softly parted in slumber.

Stephanie Everhart in his bed.

The sight of her filled up his chest. So full he found it difficult to breathe and look at her at the same time.

Last night had been a smorgasbord of sexual delight. Stevie had been eager to learn all the ways and Clay had been hell-bent on teaching her, showing her how to give and receive pleasure in all its many splendored forms. And, just as with her riding, she had grown in confidence throughout the night.