Kimberly Kaye Terry

To Desire a Wilde


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graduating from high school and entering college, their time together was short. Between school and work, Shilah barely had time for much else. Life for Ellie became busy as well, with preparing for college and working in her father’s office part-time, the two grew apart.

      And then one day he came home and learned from her father that she’d decided to attend college out of state, and he hadn’t seen her since. Yet he had never forgotten her, never forgotten how important she was to him, how her smile seemed to light up the room when she came in.

      Never forgotten how much he loved her, even though they’d been so young.

      His gaze ran over her, as she stood a few feet away from him.

      She’d grown up a lot since those days. She no longer wore the brace she worn for years. His eyes went over the smooth, uninterrupted view of her long, brown legs. The hem of her skirt flirted just below knee level, and her high-heeled boots stopped at her shapely calves.

      His gaze traveled back up the length of her body. The weather was warm and she wore a light sweater over her blouse, yet her full breasts pressed against the soft-looking fabric.

      He forced his glance away.

      A frown creased her forehead at his question. “I don’t know why I left. I guess a part of me knew that if I stayed, I’d never experience life, in a way.” She shrugged. “After the accident, my parents were always afraid for me. They never really allowed me to be … free.” She halted. “That’s as good a word as any, I suppose.”

      For a moment it appeared as though she’d been about to say something else, but she placed a small smile on her face and glanced back toward the penned horse.

      Desperately wanting to replace the sad look in her eyes, and not wanting to delve too deeply into what else he saw, Shilah shifted the conversation. Soon she was laughing again over his exploits with his brothers.

      Somehow during their conversation they’d ambled toward a nearby bench. He motioned for her to sit.

      She glanced over the pasture before she turned to face him. One side of her mouth lifted in a small smile. Shilah’s gaze settled over her features. The look on her face was serene, beautiful, content. It was an image that immediately lodged in his heart.

      It was several minutes before she answered, and when she did the smile on her face was as enigmatic as her answer. And drew him to her, just as it had when they were young.

      His glance fell to her hands as they rested in her lap. With one hand, she toyed with the fingers of the other, sliding her forefinger around and around in a circular pattern in the palm of the other hand.

      “I guess I came home …” She paused, her hand movement stilling as her glance raked over his face, the look in her eyes one that sent his heartbeat thumping harshly against his chest. “Because, well, it was time.”

      Shilah barely refrained from reaching out and grasping her hand and tugging her toward him, silently wishing that part of her reason for returning home was because of him.

       Chapter 3

      Shilah strode into the sprawling, five-thousand-square-foot house he’d called home for nearly twenty years, withdrew his jacket and lifted his Stetson from his head, absently tossing both on the hallway table.

      He sidestepped the ladder that rested against the wall near the laundry room, along with a variety of other building materials, making a mental note to remind his brothers to tell the construction crew to clean up after themselves when they broke for the day. If they didn’t, he would be the first in line to duck and hide when Lilly came after them for “messing up my house.”

      Hopefully, the general mayhem and mess would soon be over, finishing the construction that would add two additional wings on the house to accommodate their growing family. Although their home was large enough now for everyone, with both of Shilah’s brothers engaged, the decision had been made to add separate suites for them, for privacy.

      The distant smell of lunch permeated the air, but there was no sign of Lilly or anyone else in the spacious kitchen. He glanced over at the antique grandfather clock in the foyer. It was almost time for Yasmine and the others to start preparing for dinner. But, as he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, he couldn’t wait for the others and made his way to the fridge. He withdrew a cold beer, and, twisting off the cap, he tipped his head back and allowed the bitter amber to slide down his throat.

      “You do realize that it’s not even four o’clock, huh, bro?”

      Shilah knew it had to be too good to be true—that he might actually have a moment to himself alone, when he could think in private about the bombshell life had just thrown, in the way of Ellie Crandall.

      He didn’t bother turning to face his brother, but simply finished off his beer before placing the empty bottle on top of the marble counter near the fridge. Reluctantly he turned to face Holt.

      As usual, a shit-eating grin was split across his youngest brother’s face, and as usual Shilah ignored it, simply lifting a brow. “I’m sure it’s five o’clock somewhere.”

      Holt nodded his head. “Yeah, guess you’re right about that.” Holt pushed away from the bar-style counter and walking farther into the kitchen.

      Shilah moved to the side, to allow him to reopen the fridge. When he pulled out an assortment of sliced turkey and ham, along with a variety of toppings, Shilah’s stomach rumbled in response.

      Holt glanced over his shoulder, meeting his eyes. “You missed lunch too?”

      “Yeah,” Shilah answered. “Just got back from the south pasture. I was hoping Lilly left me a plate from lunch.”

      “Naw, Lil is resting. Ellie and the new kitchen girl did lunch today.” He threw Shilah a forlorn look. “And Yaz didn’t even make lunch for me. Guess my baby missed the memo.”

      Shilah raised a brow. “Which one was that?”

      “You hungry?” he asked, and Shilah nodded his head.

      After withdrawing two plates from the overhead cabinet, Holt went about deftly slicing tomatoes and pickles. “The one that says the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” he groused, and Shilah barked out a laugh.

      Recently, Holt had become engaged to Yasmine Taylor, their housekeeper Lilly’s niece. Although Lilly was much more than a housekeeper to the men, having been a part of the ranch before Shilah, Holt and Nate had arrived as foster kids.

      Thinking back, Shilah had a hard time remembering when the woman wasn’t a part of their lives, as she’d been more like a surrogate mother to Shilah and his two brothers from the time they were young.

      Her niece Yasmine had been a part of the ranch for nearly as long, coming to live with them when she was a child, as well. Soon after graduating high school she’d left, and her visits to the ranch after that had been few and far between. She’d come home last month to help Lilly recover after her knee-replacement surgery and.

      Shilah glanced at his brother, holding back a laugh when he bit out a curse after slicing into his finger, again grumbling about his woman and her neglect.

      … And that was all she wrote, Shilah finished the thought. Penthouse—the nickname Holt had been given when he’d played pro ball, known for changing his women as often as most men changed their shorts—had fallen and fallen hard. And Yasmine had fallen just as hard, the pair inseparable since their engagement. When Holt wasn’t working, he could be found with Yasmine, helping her as she planned the opening of her own catering business, as well as meeting with producers for a cooking show that would begin taping in the fall.

      “Grab some bread. Yaz and I made some rye last night,” Holt said, making a sound with his mouth and smacking his lips.

      At that, Shilah turned to his brother, raising a brow. “You and Yaz?”

      “Yep, she’s been giving me cooking