Something Wilder

Prologue

Laramie, Wyoming

October, Ten Years Ago

LILY WILDER’S BOOTS crunched through smooth gravel as she made her way from the barn to the lodge, surveying her favorite place on earth. Behind her, horses stepped up to slurp from the water tank, thirsty after a long night out in the pasture. Smoke drifted from the chimney of the big house and into the clear gray sky. The dawn was cool, the sun just breaking over the mountains.

She’d already been up for hours.

On the porch, a long shadow waited for her, holding two mugs. Her heart gave a heavy, infatuated jab at the sight of Leo—sleep-rumpled and grinning, bundled up in sweats and a fleece. Without question, this was how she wanted to start every morning; she still couldn’t believe that from today on, she would. Lily jogged up the three rickety steps, stretching to fit her smile against his, feeling like it had been days, not hours, since she’d last touched him. His lips were warm, soft against her wind-chilled ones. The heat of his fingers on her hip ignited bottle rockets inside her chest.

Where is he? Lily asked, wondering if her father had left the ranch without saying goodbye. It wouldn’t be the first time, but it would be the first time she didn’t care.

Leo pressed a warm mug into her hand and nodded to the caretaker’s cabin across the river. He walked over the bridge to Erwin’s, he said. Saying goodbye.

Was it odd that she had no idea where her father was headed or how long he’d be gone? If it was, Lily didn’t let the thought penetrate very deeply; more demanding was the way her pulse banged out a celebratory blast of a song: her life was finally starting, and somehow, this summer, while she’d learned how to manage nearly every aspect of the ranch, she’d also fallen in love. It was a love that surprised her—anchored and assured, clothes-shredding and fevered. She’d spent the first nineteen years of her life being tolerated and planned around, but here, with Leo, she was finally the center of someone’s world. She’d never smiled so much, laughed so freely, or dared to want so ferociously. The closest she’d felt before was saddling her horse and racing across her family’s land. Those moments were fleeting, though; Leo had promised he was here to stay.

She tilted her chin to gaze up into his face. He’d inherited his Irish father’s build and his Japanese American mother’s features, but the soul inside was all his own. Lily’d never known anyone as quietly, firmly grounded as Leo Grady. She still couldn’t believe this steadfast man was willing to uproot everything for her.

She’d asked him Are you sure? a hundred times. Wilder Ranch was her dream; she knew better than to expect running a guest ranch year-round to be anyone else’s. It certainly hadn’t been her father’s, though at least he’d put in the bare minimum to keep it solvent. For Lily’s mother, the ranch was just another thing she gladly left behind. Sometimes Lily felt like she’d spent every day of her life waiting for the moment when she could make this ranch her forever. And now it was here, with Leo to boot.

I’m sure, Lil. Leo’s free arm came around her shoulder, guiding her right up into his side, where he tucked her close and bent to kiss her temple. You sure you want a rookie like me here, though?

Hell yes. The words were loud in the quiet morning. In the distance, her new foal whinnied back. Leo looked at her with adoring eyes. He was new to ranching, true, but he was also a natural with the horses, capable in a million tiny ways, and a convenient top-hook-in-the-tack-room kind of tall. But none of that was why she wanted him there. She wanted him there because Leo Grady was undeniably hers, the first hers she’d ever had.

He smelled clean from the shower, and she curled in, pressing her face into his neck, searching for some hint of his sweat, the intensely masculine scent she’d felt gliding over her skin late last night.

I made you breakfast, he murmured into her hair.

She leaned back, smiling hopefully up at him. Your mom’s scones?

This made him laugh. You act like she invented them. He bent, covering her mouth with his, and spoke around the kiss. She usually makes us rice and fish. Pretty sure these are Rachael Ray’s scones.

Duke Wilder strode across the frosty grass and onto the porch, a small twitch of his bushy salt-and-pepper mustache the only indication he’d seen how pressed together they’d been.

But then the moment passed, and his eyes brightened. Duke was always happiest when he was on the cusp of leaving. When Lily was little, his work took him as far as Greenland, but his radius of adventure had shrunk dramatically when her mother left them seven years ago and Duke became anchored down by a daughter and—in the summers, at least—the guest ranch in Laramie. Now she was grown, and he was finally free to enjoy being a niche celebrity who was deeply fixated on his childhood dream of finding the piles of money some outlaws hid in the desert more than a hundred years ago.

Lily wasn’t the only one who was glad she was finally old enough to take on the burden of his family’s land.

He shifted his gaze over her shoulder, and Lily watched Duke’s face as he carried on some silent exchange with Leo. Sometimes Lily thought she barely knew her father; other times she could read him like a book. Duke had no love for Wilder Ranch, but right then Lily could hear his thoughts as if he’d spoken them aloud: That kid doesn’t look like a cowboy.

Because Leo wasn’t a cowboy. He was a college student, a math whiz, a New York City boy who had come to the ranch for a summer job, fallen in love, and upended his life to stay on with her in the off-season. Shy and quiet and thoughtful, he was everything Duke Wilder wasn’t. Only twenty-two, staring at a fifty-year-old man with the local reputation of Indiana Jones and the confidence of Captain Jack Sparrow, Leo Grady didn’t shrink or shift at her side.

We’ll be fine, Duke, she said, snapping the moment shut.

You’ll look after her until I’m back, Duke commanded, eyes still fixed on Leo, so he missed his daughter’s exasperated grimace.

I will, Leo assured him.

I don’t need looking after, Lily reminded them both.

Duke reached forward, mussing her dark hair. Sure you don’t, kid. I left y’a note in the dining hall.

Great. A riddle. A puzzle. Some cipher for her to decode. Her father had raised her on the games he loved, always poking at her like a kid prods a beetle, unable to understand how she ended up so different from him. A wrestling match between resentment and curiosity would ensue until necessity would beat them both, and she’d finally sit down to solve whatever puzzle he’d left for her. It was entirely possible that the note would translate into something asinine like See you later or Don’t eat all the oatmeal cookie dough, but it was just as likely that he’d left some critical piece of information just out of her reach that Lily would require in order to run this place. Everything Lily had ever wanted or needed had always been hidden somewhere complicated, sometimes miles from home, and if she didn’t have the motivation to look, Duke had figured she hadn’t needed it after all.

Maybe today she wouldn’t bother. Maybe she and Duke would finally agree that they didn’t have to love the same things—they didn’t even have to love each other—to coexist. For the first time, that sat fine with her. Maybe Duke would go back to his world, where he hunted artifacts and dug up lost treasure, and Lily would stay at the ranch with her horses and her land and her love and ignore the note on the table forever.

The tension stretched and then snapped when Duke took one last sweeping glance at the lodge, the barn, the rolling hills beyond. His parents had bought this land and raised two boys here—Duke and his brother, Daniel. Daniel had turned it into the Wilder Ranch, living here year-round and welcoming guests each summer until he died two years ago. Lily and Duke kept the business limping along, but it was never his priority and always her dream to be here full-time, to take it over, to bring it back to what it had been in the golden summers of her childhood. Seventy-eight horses and two hundred acres of glimmering Wyoming beauty were her idea of perfection, but Duke resented every single fence on the property like he was a cat in a cage.

Her larger-than-life father fit his cowboy hat on his head and nodded to the two of them. Well. I’m off.

There weren’t hugs. Leo and Lily didn’t even step down from the wide porch. They silently watched the long, strong shape of Duke Wilder stride over to his old hulking truck and climb in.

Lily turned to Leo, bouncing on the balls of her feet, joy bubbling up inside her with a force that might shoot her off into the gray-blue sky.

You ready for this, boss? he asked.

Lily answered Leo with a kiss she hoped told him the things she sometimes still struggled to say.

She let it all sink in. Right now, everything was exactly right. No one and nothing rushed her past this single, perfect moment. With the dust of Duke’s truck still swirling in his wake, all that mattered was the love at her side and the bejeweled galaxy of land around her. Her galaxy. She took a breath to speak but was caught in a double take at the tender expression on Leo’s face as he looked down at her. Lovesick City Boy, all the cowboys had called him from that very first day he met her, five months ago.

Laughing—blissful—Lily cupped his cheek and stretched to kiss him again. Promise me we’ll be happy here forever.

He nodded and brought his forehead down to rest against hers. I promise.

Chapter One

Hester, Utah—Archie’s Bar

May, Present Day

IN HINDSIGHT, LILY said, wincing, I know better than to ignore a bar fight going on behind me.

Archie extended a meaty hand, passing her a dripping cloth full of ice. I’m more concerned you took an elbow to the back of the head and barely flinched.

Is that a joke about me being hardheaded? She sucked in a breath at the shock of ice against the nape of her neck.

Archie leaned over the bar. I’m saying you’re a tough little cowgirl, Lily Wilder.

Lily shoved him away with a laugh. Kiss my ass, Arch.

Any time you want, Lil.

With an elbow resting on the scuffed wood, she held the ice in place and watched condensation track in slow, fat streams down her pint glass. But as soon as she dragged a finger through it, the glass got muddy. All day long, wind worked the red desert dust into the creases of her clothing, into her hair. Hands, arms, face. Thank God for showers and sunscreen. With the kind of crowd one found at Archie’s, though, it was never worth showering before coming in—whether Lily was sitting at the bar with a beer or working behind it in the off-season. The errant elbow to the back of her head was proof enough.

The door opened, briefly blasting the dim room with light, and Nicole arrived in a flash of messy blond hair and checked red-and-blue flannel. Sliding onto the stool beside Lily’s, Nicole lifted her chin to Archie in both silent greeting and beverage order. He pulled a lager into a questionably clean glass and slid an even more questionably clean bowl of peanuts toward the women. More starving than fastidious, Lily dug in.

Nicole gestured to the ice pack. What the hell?

Petey and Lou were at it. I was collateral damage.

Need me to kick their asses? She moved to stand, but Lily stopped her with a hand on the arm.

Nicole was taller and stronger than Lily, and her loyalty made her nearly feral when provoked. Lily wagered that Petey and Lou would have a pretty fair fight on their hands. If Lily gestured for Nic to go at it, she’d die trying. But Nic was all she had, so Lily tipped her head instead toward the small stack of papers on the bar near her friend’s arm. Is that the new group?

Nicole nodded. Arriving tomorrow.

Dudes? Lily asked. Their clients were almost always men coming out to hunt treasure and play at being outlaws. A group of women felt like a breath of fresh air. Those trips were quieter, more easygoing. They almost made the job worth it. Almost.

Yeah. Four of them.

Bachelor party? Birthday?

Nic shook her head. Looks like it’s a group of friends just taking a trip together.

At this, Lily groaned. At least bachelor parties were on some kind of mission, usually to sneak booze and have a week of debauchery they’d talk about for years to come. But the groups that came to Lily’s tourist expedition company, Wilder Adventures, just to get away always needed more babysitting, more structure. Sometimes that was fine—helping people enjoy a vacation on horseback had been Lily’s joy growing up and was to this day—but right now she was running on fumes.

All of them signed the waiver? Lily asked.

Nic scratched her cheek, hesitating. Yeah.

Pointing, Lily asked, What’s that mean?

Well, Nicole said, it kind of looks like they were all signed by the same person.

Lifting her beer to her lips, Lily muttered a quiet Shit.

Dub, it’s a formality.

Unless it isn’t, she said. I can’t afford a lawsuit.

Girl, you can barely afford this beer. When she ducked to catch Lily’s gaze, Nic’s wild hair fell over half her face, leaving one glimmering blue eye free to study her best friend. How are you thinking this will be our last trip out?

Lily squinted down at the whorls in the scuffed wood bar. Truthfully, she had been hoping more than anything that this would be the last hurrah for Wilder Adventures. She wanted this to be the last time she took city slickers out into the desert to team-build and rough it and hunt for fake treasure. She wanted to put her dad’s journal away and never have to look at it again. She wanted to live where no one asked her about Duke Wilder’s maps or his stories and she could forget all about Butch Cassidy. Lily wanted to never again see a man wear polished dress shoes while riding a horse or hear another woman wearing a Prada western shirt complain how sore her ass was after a half hour in a saddle. She wanted to be running a ranch, to tack up Bonnie at sunrise and wrangle her own horses across sagebrush and frost-tipped grass that glimmered like diamonds and crunched beneath hooves. She wanted enough money to move out of her dad’s old run-down cabin and leave this dusty shit town. She wanted this to be her last trip out more than anything.

But wanting didn’t get her anywhere. She’d learned that lesson a long time ago.

Still, quitting this gig consumed Lily’s every waking thought; seven years into this business and she felt trapped. She scraped by leading tourists around the desert, but horses were expensive, and Lily needed horses to lead tourists around the desert in order to scrape by. Chicken, meet egg.

How did things go at the bank? Nic asked, coming at it from a different angle.

Lily shook her head.

Again?

Who’s going to give someone like me a loan? What’s my income going to be if I stop leading treasure hunts?

Nicole leaned in again. "Did you tell them that was your plan? What do they even know?"

Lily looked over at her. I didn’t, Nic, but they’re not dumb. The guy said, ‘So if you buy some land and start up a new outfit, how are you going to make money until it’s solvent?’ And I told him that it would take a couple years but that I knew the area, knew the business, and knew what people wanted in a Wild West vacation, but it didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what I say; I’m not a good investment.

Nicole blew out a breath and stared down at her hands. It was then that Lily noticed an envelope with her name poking out of the stack of mail and liability waivers. She’d recognize the return address anywhere. It used to be hers.

Immediately, she was buried under a deluge of memories—the astringent, crisp punch of sagebrush; herding horses as the sun tipped its hat over the top of the mountains; fat, warm butter biscuits in the mornings; the precise moment she’d laid eyes on him, and, weeks later, the heat and fever of his body—

Rubbing the ache beneath her breastbone, Lily cut those thoughts off at the pass, pointing at the envelope. What’s that?

Nic tucked the envelope away again. Nothing.

It’s from Wilder Ranch. And it’s got my name on it. She reached for it. Give it.

But Nicole slapped her away. You don’t want it right now, Dub, trust me.

Right now?

Is it about the ranch?

Let it go, Lil.

A rare fire ignited in Lily’s veins. Did you open it? I swear to God, Nic, you are the nosiest little— She went for it again, but Nicole dodged to the side, evading.

"I said no."

Lily’s blood turned to steam at the implication that she couldn’t handle whatever was in there. Nic was the hothead; Lily was the measured one. But suddenly, she’d never wanted anything more than she wanted to see the contents of the nondescript white envelope.

Lily shoved Nic’s arm, but Nic knew it was coming and leaned in, caging around the papers, unmoving. Diving for her midsection, Lily knocked Nic off the stool and tackled her onto the floor. Suddenly paling in importance, the liability waivers rained around them, landing among the discarded peanut shells in the layer of sticky beer on the floor. Behind the wrestling women, men hooted and clapped, cheering them on. Normally Lily would get up and take this argument elsewhere, but she had a singular focus, and it was to dig that envelope out from under where Nicole had rolled onto her stomach, covering it with her body.

No fucking way, Nic yelled into the floor, even as Lily smacked uselessly at her shoulders, tickled her ribs, and then began to punch her ass.

"It has my name on it, you dick."

You don’t want it!

You’re committing a felony! Lily glanced over her shoulder. Petey! You’re a cop.

Off duty, he answered, laughing into his beer. Punch her in the ass again.

I’m gonna punch you in the dick next if you don’t help me.

Honey, you’re welcome to hit on any part of me.

With a savage growl, she dug with all her strength under her friend’s body, reaching blindly for the envelope. She got her fingers around it, tearing off a corner as she yanked it free. Lily scrambled up and away, hiding behind Big Eddie near the dartboard in case Nicole decided to come for her.

I’m telling you, Nic warned, you don’t want it. Defeated, she stood, swiping bar floor grime from her cheek with the back of her hand. She returned to her stool, and her beer, and the bowl of nuts. Just don’t come pouting to me when you see what it is.

Back in the corner, Lily pulled the letter free. A bar full of eyes lingered on her as she read it, at first uncomprehending—the words swam in swirls of black and white—and remained glued to her face as she returned to the beginning to start again. Sentences took shape, meaning coalesced, and all of the ache and loss and empty blackness she’d packed into a solid brick in her chest broke free, becoming a swarm of horseflies.

The letter was from the man who now owned her family’s land. A man she’d met only once, barely a week after that other, brutal heartbreak. As much as Lily hated Jonathan Cross, she’d wanted to read these words every day for ten years.

… retiring… ranch up for sale… like to give you the first opportunity…

It didn’t matter how good a deal he was offering her. There wasn’t a single thing she could do to get her family’s ranch back.

Once something was gone, it was gone. Lily thought she’d dealt with her sorrow, her longing for that place, but she felt bruised all over again.

It took every ounce of physical strength she had to maintain her composure. She tacked her lower lip to her teeth, nailed her jaw shut. She forced her shoulders steady, working to keep them from rising up around her neck, to keep her back from curling. No one alive—at least, no one in this room—had ever seen her break. Finally, when everyone had lost interest or turned away out of respect, she made her way back to the bar.

Nicole had already ordered her friend a fresh beer and pushed it over as Lily settled onto the stool beside her.

Told you, Nic said.

You did.

What’re you going to do about it? she asked.

I’m going to do a whole lot of nothing, Lily said, and brought the glass to her lips.

Chapter Two

New York City

May, Present Day

THE DOWNSIDE TO leaving for JFK at 8:15 a.m.: in the past twenty minutes, the tangle of morning rush-hour traffic had not once moved faster than ten miles an hour. Potential upside: Leo was free to answer the litany of questions his boss could ask literally anyone else still at the office… but wouldn’t.

When his phone chimed with the tenth text in five minutes, Leo closed his eyes, groaning.

Just put it on silent, Bradley said, rolling the cab window down as far as it would go, then quickly rolling it back up against the plume of truck exhaust that barreled inside.

Leo typed out a quick reply. It’s fine.

The phone immediately chimed again.

Leo, this happens every year.

Typing, Leo said, It’s just how Alton gets when I’m going to be out of the office.

Exactly my point. He acts like there’s no one else in the tristate area who can use a calculator.

This time, the phone rang in Leo’s hand.

Bradley gave him a warning look. Leave it.

Shrugging helplessly, Leo gestured to Alton’s name on the screen. They’re making decisions about the VP role next week and I’m on vacation. I can’t not answer.

Leave it.

Leo brought the phone to his ear. Hello?

Bradley groaned and leaned forward to tell the cabdriver—who absolutely did not care—He never lets his boss go to voicemail.

I do, Leo whisper-hissed before returning to Alton on the other end of the call and telling him, The code for the Daxton-Amazon algorithm is in the C drive under the folder named ‘Daxton-Amazon.’

Bradley turned and gaped at him, but Leo waved this off, continuing the call. That’s right. You can forward it directly to Alyssa or save it to the cloud—

Bradley yanked the phone from Leo’s hand and bent, pressing his mouth close and faking static. Can’t—crackle—hear—crackle—tunnel—crackle. He hit End and slid the phone into his own coat pocket with a smirk.

Leo stared blankly at him. Dude, seriously?

My year, my trip, my rules. Rule number one: no phones.

Leo reached for it anyway, explaining, He was calling to find out where the—

Bradley slapped his hand away. "If your boss can’t find an algorithm named Daxton-Amazon in a folder also named Daxton-Amazon, I really have no idea how he ended up in a corner office."

Leo turned to stare out the window, unable to argue. It was time to stop worrying about work anyway, and start wondering where Bradley was taking them. This annual trip with his two best friends from college was his only time away, and as their lives had gotten busier, the status quo had transitioned from It’s my year to do the planning to Absolutely no details will be shared until we arrive at our destination. Knowing they were flying into Salt Lake City told Leo nothing, and whenever it was Bradley’s turn, the other two men were justifiably wary. Bradley prioritized telling a good story down the road over personal comfort and common sense every time.

His phone rang again, and Bradley pulled it out, grinning when he saw who was calling. It’s your other boss. He turned the screen around, showing Leo.

Cora.

Bradley swiped to answer. Leo’s phone, Uncle Bradley speaking.

Leaning in again, Leo tried to take it from him.

But Bradley put his entire hand on Leo’s face and pushed him away. How are you, darlin’?

Leo could hear nothing but the tinny hint of his sister’s voice through the line. Resigned, he deflated into the seat. Cora adored Bradley. Even if Leo managed to grab the phone, she’d just tell him to hand it back again.

Congratulations on graduating, Cor. That’s incredible. Bradley nodded, smiling at whatever she’d said. Is that right? He turned and looked at Leo. "And Paris tomorrow? No, your brother absolutely did not tell me that he was sending you and a friend to Paris for your graduation gift."

Shit. Bradley would be relentless about this.

I bet, Bradley said, eyes widening as he stared at Leo in mock alarm. That does sound like a special night. He paused, listening. I will definitely pass that along. You have an amazing trip. Love you too, kiddo. He ended the call and, with a derisive grin, finally handed Leo his phone. That was enlightening.

Dropping it into his backpack, Leo leaned his head against the