Captured by Mr. Wild (The Men Series Book 4)
Captured by Mr. Wild: Chapter 11

“HEY, DAISY?” I MURMUR, pulling her back against my chest and pressing a kiss to the soft, silky skin on her shoulder.

She stirs in my arms but doesn’t wake.

I gently slide my arm from underneath her and roll onto my back on the bed, blowing out a breath.

Did that really happen?

I look over at her, sleeping soundly.

I just had sex with my childhood friend.

Correction. I just had sex with my childhood friend who’s come back after a decade.

And I loved it.

I fucking loved it.

Every. Fucking. Second.

I prop myself up on an elbow and watch her chest rise and fall as she breathes. She looks so peaceful when she’s asleep. The constant anxiety and apprehension I’ve seen on her face—smiles that don’t meet her eyes, chewing on her lip—are gone. She looks so much more like the Daisy I know.

I lean over and brush a strand of dark hair from her face. I wonder why she cut it and dyed it. She always loved her long, blonde hair—braiding it and weaving daisy flowers through it. It would catch the sunlight and shine like a halo around her.

Her brows pull together and her eyes screw up as my fingers linger in her hair.

“Stop, Mickey.” Her voice is tiny, quiet as the breeze, as it breaks through from her dream.

I pull my hand back, unease clawing at my chest from the way she sounds.

Scared.

“It’s just me, Daisy,” I whisper.

“Blake… Blake Anderson.” A small giggle dances from her lips before she falls quiet again, returning to a deep sleep.

I shake my head with a silent chuckle. I’m glad I amuse her. Even if she must be semi-conscious to do so.

The clock on the bedside table reads 00:50. I need to get back to Betsy. She’s a wonderful dog, and she’s happy to sleep outside on the back porch sometimes, especially on hot summer nights. But I know she’ll be waiting for me, wondering where I am. I never leave her all night.

I take one last look at Daisy, relieved that she seems to be sleeping soundly now, her face calm once again. Then I get up and move around the room as quietly as possible, retrieving my clothes and going out onto the landing to get dressed.

The keys are on the floor by the front door, dropped by Daisy when I lifted her up and carried her in. I let myself out and lock it behind me, posting the keys back through the mail slot. One last glance up at her bedroom window, and I climb into my truck and head home.

Betsy and I do our usual run the next morning and beat our personal best by two minutes forty.

“Way to go, girl. We smashed it!” I beam at her as I do some stretches.

My eyes wander over to Daisy’s house. There’s no way of knowing if she’s even up yet. I glance at my watch. It’s still early by most people’s standards. I’ve got time to take a shower before I head over and see her.

I can’t wipe the grin off my face. What a fucking amazing night. Unexpected. But amazing.

I lean down and ruffle Betsy’s ears.

“You, my little champ, can have steak for breakfast today.”

Despite being worn out from our run, the mention of the word ‘steak’ has Betsy springing to her feet and bounding behind me into the house. She only usually gets it on special occasions, but even so, she’s learned the word perfectly. I laugh as she looks up at me, her tail going crazy.

“All right, all right. I’ll get your breakfast first and then have a shower.”

Twenty minutes later, the two of us are standing on Daisy’s doorstep, waiting.

Nothing.

I take a couple of steps back and shield my eyes from the sun as I look up at her bedroom window. The curtains are open, which would indicate she’s up. But were they open last night?

Fuck, I can’t remember.

All I can remember is her.

Her smell. Her touch. Her taste.

I reach forward and knock on the door again. We’re only met with silence from inside the house.

“C’mon, Betsy. She’s not home.”

Betsy gets up and pads behind me to the truck, her head down, looking as disappointed as I feel.

Maybe she’s in there, ignoring us. Would she do that? She said she wouldn’t regret it in the morning. But she’d had a few drinks. What if she was more drunk than I realized? But she sure didn’t seem like it. In fact, she was insistent about what she wanted.

I look over at the house one more time and rub my hand across my jaw as we climb into the truck and leave.

“Hey, man.” I slap an arm around Trav’s shoulders as we greet each other before sliding into the booth seat at the diner.

“Hey. You got Dee home okay last night?”

“Yeah.” I smile and pick up the menu, pretending to read it, even though we’ve been coming here our whole lives and I know it better than the back of my hand.

Trav’s palm slaps down over it, pushing it onto the tabletop as he studies my face.

“What aren’t you telling me?” His eyes widen. “Blake!” he hisses, lowering his voice and leaning forward. He glances around the diner, tipping his head in greeting to one local we both know, before honing his gaze back on to me. “Tell me you didn’t.”

I shrug. “I didn’t.”

He drops back in his seat and blows out a breath. “Thank fuck, man. I mean. She’s our friend.”

I don’t take this opportunity to remind him that Kayla was also our friend—before he married her.

“I know that.” I look at him, and he narrows his eyes at me, leaning forward again.

“So why do you have that smug-as-shit look on your face that you get whenever you get laid? Did you hook up with Cindy again?”

“What? No! I told you that was finished.” I frown at him.

He clasps his hands together in front of his chin and runs his index fingers over his lips as he thinks.

“Okay. I believe that. Because you never looked like this afterward. You’re like extra smug as shit today. With an extra lump of shit thrown on top.”

“Thanks for the detailed comparison.” I smirk at him.

He’s still studying me. I know he will not let this drop.

“You said you didn’t?” he says again slowly so it sounds more like a question.

I shrug my shoulders at him again. “You said tell me you didn’t, so I did.”

“But did you tell me you didn’t because you actually didn’t? Or did you tell me you didn’t because I told you to tell me you didn’t?” Travis says.

“What the fuck, man? You’ve lost me.” I chuckle as I throw my hands up in the air.

He fixes me with his serious look, brows pulled down, eyes slanted. “Blake. Did you have sex with Dee last night?”

I run a hand over my jaw as I consider his question.

“Well, that’s a tough one to answer. Because I’m still getting to know this Dee who’s come back into town… but Daisy… Now, I know Daisy.” I grin at Travis as he drops his head to the table and lets it bang against the hard surface.

“God, kill me now,” he mutters.

“I don’t think it works like that, Trav.” I smirk as he lifts his head and scowls at me. “Okay, fine.” I lower my voice. “Yes, okay. I had sex with Daisy last night.”

“Blake!” He raises his voice, which gathers the attention of some of the other diners.

I lift a hand in apology as Trav decides now is a good time to give me shit for something I do not—and will not—ever regret.

“Doesn’t your dick get enough action with all the tourists that pass through, and until recently, with Cindy?” he hisses.

“Hey. It wasn’t about giving my dick action!” I fire back, glaring at him.

“Then what the hell was it, Blake? I’ve known you for years. You’ve done some stupid shit, but this tops it.” He shakes his head.

“It was…” I blow out a breath, dropping my head to stare at the table. “It felt right, man. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

When I raise my eyes to meet his, Travis stares at me like I’ve grown an extra head.

“What does she think about it all? I mean…” He lifts his brows as he studies my face. “How was she this morning? Is this something she wants to make a thing? I mean, she’s going back to England soon, isn’t she?”

I let out a deep sigh and stare out the window. The server, Helen, who’s one of the duo who runs the diner, comes over and takes our order. Despite my appetite suddenly waning, I order a turkey sandwich and smile at her as she heads back to the kitchen.

“I don’t know how Daisy is,” I say to Travis as I look back at him. “She wasn’t there when me and Betsy stopped by this morning.”

Travis slants his eyes at me again, the serious expression firmly back. “Called around this morning? Didn’t you stay all night?”

I shake my head. “I couldn’t. I stayed until she fell asleep, but I’d left Betsy at home. I had to get back to her.”

“You left a note though, right?” Travis looks like he’s about to bang his head against the table again when one look at the frown on my face tells him all he needs to know.

“How did you not leave a note? God, do you know nothing?” Travis fixes me with a stare as he tuts.

“I’ve never…?” I furrow my brow in confusion.

Travis snorts and shakes his head at me again. He’s going to have neck ache later if he keeps it up.

“I forgot. You never stay, do you? And you leave when they’re still getting their breath back.”

“Hey!” I growl.

He raises an eyebrow at me, and I glare at him. He just stares back, waiting. Travis has been my friend since we were kids. He’s the only one, along with my brother, who calls me out on my shit and gets away with it.

“Fine. That’s a fair point,” I mutter, my shoulders dropping as Helen comes back with our food and drinks.

“You all right, Blake?” she asks in her usual cheery manner. It’s what keeps the customers coming back in again and again. She’s always pleased to see you. Even if you’ve got a face on you like you’ve had a reeking shit thrown at you—which is what mine probably looks like right about now.

“Yeah, all good, Helen.” I plaster a smile back on my face as she nods at us both and tells us to enjoy our lunch.

“You think Daisy’s pissed that I left without saying anything?” I pick up my sandwich and force myself to take a bite and chew. Helen’s sandwiches are legendary, yet I can barely taste a thing right now.

“I think she’ll be even more pissed off if you keep calling her Daisy,” Trav says as he digs into his lunch.

I run a hand through my hair and drop my sandwich back onto the plate. “I’m trying, man. It’s just hard not to. That’s who she is.”

“Not according to her,” Travis says with a shake of his head.

“Hey… What do you know? Did Kayla say something?” I tilt my chin, waiting for him to swallow.

“Only that she thinks Daisy had a jerk of an ex who didn’t like her going out without him. And gave her shit about her job.”

“Daisy told her that?” Travis lifts an eyebrow at me, and I blow out a breath. “Fine. Dee told her that?”

“Apparently.” He nods.

My jaw clenches as I consider his words. Daisy has an ex, who, by the sounds of it, was a controlling bully. It makes sense now why she almost legged it out of my truck to get changed that first night when I commented on her dress.

“You reckon he did something to her?” My eyes bore into Travis’ as all kinds of sickening possibilities run through my mind.

“If he did, she didn’t tell Kayla. Kayla would have mentioned it. If she thought Dee was in trouble, she would tell me.”

“Married life, eh? No secrets,” I murmur as I pick up my sandwich and take another bite.

Travis snorts. “You make it sound like a chore. Getting married is the best thing I ever did.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” I throw him a wink, so he knows I’m joking.

“So, what are you going to do?” Travis asks carefully.

My shoulders sag as I consider the option that last night might have screwed up our friendship. I wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe I shouldn’t mention anything? See if she brings it up first. That way, if she wants to make like it didn’t happen, I will know before saying anything that may fuck things up more.

“I dunno, Trav.” I drop my head into my hands with a sigh. “I dunno.”

I came into the diner pumped up by the incredible night we had.

But now?

Now I’m feeling like a prize asshole.