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Back Walk on the Wilder Side Save as PDF
Chapters (46)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. Epilogue
  43. Excerpt from Wilder With You
  44. Also by Serena Bell
  45. Acknowledgments
  46. About the Author

I am in love with Brody Wilder. This is not a thing I have to agonize about, discuss with my girlfriends, or realize in a sudden, shining moment. It’s just so obvious. Possibly I loved Brody Wilder from the moment he first picked me up by the side of the road where I was standing with my bike, its front tire flat.

Possibly I loved him before that, from afar, watching him play with Connor and knowing that I would always be on the outside of that boy awesomeness, telling myself I didn’t care.

More likely, I fell in love with him sometime this month. Maybe when I realized that he would do just about anything to make things right for his family’s business and his family. When he somehow managed to take in stride the fact that I’d unexpectedly brought sex toys on his boat. When he taught me to picnic without a plan and jump without overthinking it.

When I saw how much he loves Justin. How even through his anger and frustration, he has such a big, loving, giving heart.

It doesn’t really matter. The point is, the problem is, I’m in love with Brody Wilder.

And I don’t want to be the girl Brody Wilder fucks. I want to be the woman he loves.

I don’t want to take a walk on the Wilder side.

I want to live there.

I want Brody Wilder to be the awesome boyfriend in step six, the man in my plan.

Now I just have to figure out how to tell him that.

32

Brody

It takes us a long time to get out of bed the next morning. Rachel makes us coffee, and I cook us bacon and eggs.

We’re not out of the bed very long, though, before we find ourselves back in it.

Not that either of us minds.

By the time we manage to get ourselves dressed and the kitchen cleaned up, it’s late morning. And I still don’t want Rachel to go. My eye falls on a copy of the Five Rivers Gazette that I tossed with a pile of mail on my counter. “You know what we should do? We should take Justin and go to the Five Rivers Summer Festival.”

Even before the brides and grooms and spa-seekers showed up, Rush Creek was a tourist town. There’s always some kind of festival going on. Quilts. Crafts. Art. Blues and Brews. Spring, summer, fall, holiday … there’s always something.

Up until now, I’ve never been much of a festival goer. But if it means I get to spend another day with my two favorite people, I’m in.

Her eyes meet mine. “We might run into people we know.” She’s watching me carefully.