“We should.”
“Really?” I asked, giving him a smirk. “You’re a howler?”
“Oh, I’m all sorts of things.” He jumped up on the log, his snug jeans teasing me as he moved. He cupped his hand around his mouth and howled like a lost wolf—or maybe like a man alive. “Come on, it was your idea!” he teased.
He was right, of course. I took the hand he offered as I stepped onto the log.
It wobbled, and I started to lose my balance. “Shit!” I cried, regaining my footing.
“I gotcha,” he said, and instinctively balanced me at the waist. His hands were warm against my clothes, and I wished they were against my skin once more.
“Thanks,” I said, slightly embarrassed.
“Now howl!” he ordered.
I raised my chin and I let out a howl. Well, maybe more like a whimper, because he egged me on, saying I could do better than that.
He was right. I cupped my mouth like he had done, and I howled—loud and clear and fierce. I thanked the moon with a cry, and then on second thought, asked the moon for direction with a howl. I hoped she would answer.
“What the hell’s going on?” Another voice came from behind us, but this time I didn’t jump. I’d had enough jumpiness for one day. I turned to see the tattooed guy from earlier, and I couldn’t resist a smile.
“Oh, just your everyday sort of howling. No biggie.” Ashton smiled at me conspiratorially.
“It’s like she was begging for it,” I added, pointing up to the sky.
“Begging, huh?” the tattooed guy asked. “I didn’t know the moon could beg.”
“Oh, she can do all sorts of things,” I continued. “She’s magic.”
“And you?” he asked. “Are you magic?”
“I think she is,” Ashton answered for me. “What kind of girl walks alone at night with a mug of whiskey to talk to the moon?”
“The kind of girl I’d like to meet.” The tattooed guy lit a joint and took a puff. “I’m Jude, by the way.” He offered it to me. I took a few hits before handing it off to Ashton.
“I’m Willow.”
“You’re the girl from the lobby,” Jude said. “The one we’ve been talking about all night.”
“All of you?” I said, suddenly feeling like I was under inspection. I gave Ashton a long look, but he shook his head in denial.
“No, not all of us. Just the two of us,” Ashton explained. “Our friends have other things on their minds.”
“And you, what do you have on your mind?” I asked, as I passed Jude the tail end of the joint, knowing exactly what I had on my mind.
“I have too much on my mind,” Jude said.
“I hear you,” I said.
“Why’d you come out here, anyway?” Ashton asked Jude.
“Oh, right—fuck, I almost forgot. Liam wanted us to get some firewood out by the general store. The fire’s almost out.”
“Fuck,” Ashton said. “I spent hours on that beast this afternoon. We should do that now, or the cabin’s going to be freezing in a few hours.”
“Agreed.”
“Okay, I’ll see you guys around, then,” I said, my eyes meeting Ashton’s, wondering why he had fucked me like that only to leave me wanting more.
“I can walk you back,” Jude offered. “You shouldn’t walk alone.”
“Good call,” Ashton said. “I’ll see you at the cabin then. Bye, Willow.”
Surprised by Ashton’s sudden departure, I turned to Jude. “Shall we?”
He gave me a nod, and I pointed out the trail my cabin was on.Chapter Seventeen“Have you ever been to this resort?” Jude asked as we walked.
“No, but I’ve wanted to for a while. I like how mellow it is this time of year.”
Mellow, except for the late-night sex on the beach. When I’d decided to come here, I’d had no idea I was going to become a cocktail.
“Have you been here before?”
“Yeah, we come a bunch of times throughout the year. My friend works here full-time. I wouldn’t mind a gig like that.”
“I get what you mean. I live in the city and it can be a grind.”
“Yeah, I’m into the idea of the Walden Commune shit, you know? Even if it is naive. But life is fragile, and I want to surround myself with beauty, saturate myself with nature’s grandeur while I can.”
“That’s so poetic,” I say, impressed. “You should be a writer.”
“I am, actually.”
“Oh, well, there ya go,” I said, laughing softly.
“And you? What are you Willow?”
“I’m….” I paused, literally and figuratively. On the dark trail, where I could just barely make out the rough eyes of this man’s face, I stopped and decided to be honest. “I’m floundering.”
“And you don’t like that?” he asked, leaning closer.
“No, I don’t. It’s scary. Not knowing what I should be, or where I should be. Or what I want to be.”
“No, that’s where you’re wrong,” he said slowly, shaking his head. “The thrashing is where the beauty lies.”