Forever Starts Tonight (Wilder Family #4)

Chapter 1

Jax

Four years ago

“I’m not sure the beer is worth this,” I yelled to my friend Cameron. The music was so loud in the bar, he couldn’t hear me, though.

He tilted his head, cupping a hand over his ear. “What?”

I managed a slight eye roll, shaking my head in a never mind gesture. Tipping my beer back, I grimaced when the last swallow was lukewarm. Holding it up, I tilted the bottle toward the bar. “Want another one?” I yelled.

When he furrowed his brow in confusion, I said it one more time, and his features lit with understanding. Cameron shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Why are we here again?” I asked.

“What?” he yelled.

I sighed. “Never mind.”

Under normal circumstances, my best friend and I stuck closer to home if we were going to go out for a drink or two. In our hometown of Sisters, Oregon, we had a handful of options if a couple of beers sounded good on a Friday or Saturday night, but he’d dragged me to the neighboring town of Redmond. The list of options was slightly longer, and the present faces were slightly less familiar, which was always my preference for a night out anyway.

Especially when I felt like this.

A restless sort of energy built under my skin, a rolling, slightly unpleasant warmth, seeking an outlet.

Finding someone to leave with would be the best option to save my night. I’d been busy at work, pulling longer than normal days because Cameron was short a few guys, and even though my body was tired, it had been a couple of months without evening companionship.

That was all it ever was, really.

The evening.

It was almost like this giant barrier in my head to the possibility of more than that—something invisible to the naked eye but thick and impenetrable all the same. No matter how that energy spit and hissed when it was ready to be unleashed, I never, ever wanted more. There’d never be any fruitless searching for something I wasn’t even sure existed. No twisting myself—my life—up in knots over the idea of some soulmate who could solve all my problems simply by existing.

Thanks for that, Mom, I thought dryly. Not that she could hear me. She was somewhere on the East Coast, living with her latest husband in some giant mansion that made her blissfully happy. What was his name again? Rick? Ron?

It was Ron. I’d met him at their wedding—his big, dopey smile and overly large ears gave the appearance of an overgrown child who was happy to have someone pretty at his side.

A new song, loud and boisterous, interrupted any thoughts of husband number four.

The live band playing on a small stage was good, doing covers of popular eighties and nineties songs, but it would likely take my eardrums a week to recover. Slowly, I approached the bar, weaving through a group of college-age kids with giant arms, big mouths, and backward caps, then a whooping line of bachelorettes, holding hands, wearing bridal veils with ropes of beads around their necks.

One of them eyed me as she passed, but despite the inviting smile, the giant ring on her finger and slightly glassy expression had me keeping my face impassive when she brushed past my chest with an intentionality that was best ignored.

The line at the bar was easily three people deep, and I let out a slow, deep breath when the reality of another cold beer was at least fifteen minutes off yet.

“Fuck this,” I muttered.

I was just about to turn and tell Cameron he was on his own when I saw her.

She stood all the way down at the end, elbows braced on the bar and leaning forward to be heard by the bartender. Her sleek pale blue dress showed a considerable amount of toned legs and firm, tan thighs. I tilted my head, eyes trailing over the dip in her waist, the curves of her backside, the straps crisscrossing over her back. An inviting amount of skin was visible when she shifted on her dangerously spiked high-heeled feet. Her hair—a mass of dark, messy waves that hid her face—was long and thick, and a hot curl of interest unspooled immediately through my gut.

Her.

Her .

The slightly unpleasant warmth under my skin turned lava hot in less than a heartbeat.

My feet moved before I clocked the decision to head in her direction, and the graceful line of her arm waved in the air as she spoke to the bartender. No ring.

Show me your face, pretty girl, I thought.

The bartender finished making her drink, a fruity-looking concoction paired with a light green shot on the side that raised my eyebrows. If she was shit-faced drunk, this would be a short conversation and a quick return to my friend .

To her left, the couple parked against the bar gathered their drinks and walked away. I slid immediately into the spot they vacated, my arm brushing slightly against her shoulder as I kept my eyes forward on the bartender and settled in against the bar. She wasn’t short, thanks to the heels boosting her height, but still, I could probably tuck her head underneath my chin.

Next to me, she’d gone unnaturally still, and even in the crowded bar, I caught a whiff of something clean and citrusy. The band finished a song, and after the applause died down, they said they’d be back after a ten-minute break.

Thank God.

The bartender caught my eye, and I held up the bottle. “Another one of these, please. And I’ll pay for what she just ordered,” I said smoothly. My hand tightened into a fist on the bar when she raised a hand to gather up her dark hair and pull it over the opposite shoulder. The bartender handed me my beer, taking the cash I’d held out in a deft move. “Keep the change,” I told him.

Beside me, the woman sucked in a quick breath, then slowly angled toward me. Her head was down for a moment, but in my peripheral vision, I caught a glimpse of perfectly mouthwatering cleavage—high and firm—pressing against the low neckline of the dress, and ignored the screaming impulse to stare.

One of us would have to speak eventually, but given I’d just bought her drinks, I’d know within a few seconds if there were any possibilities here.

God, I hoped there was.

An insistent, screaming instinct had my body fighting the urge to turn toward her, and I pulled in a slow breath through my nose, locking my muscles to stay in place.

Next to me, her head finally lifted, and anticipation had my pulse racing.

Finally, finally, she spoke. “Happy birthday to me, I guess. ”

Her voice hit my eardrums, and I froze, my chest icing over immediately.

No .

There was no fucking way.

Moving slower than I ever thought possible, I turned my face toward hers, eyes taking in the sex-bomb hair and the gloss of heavy makeup, the likes of which I’d never seen on my best friend’s little sister.

“Poppy,” I said evenly even though that wild, fierce energy now screamed at me to run the fuck away. Jaw tight, I let my gaze track over her face. “When did you get here?”

“About fifteen minutes ago. We came in through the back,” she answered. “I knew Cameron was here somewhere, but he didn’t say you were coming too.”

And she smiled up at me, bright and happy and so fucking earnest that I wanted to scream. I knew why she was here, so I didn’t even have to ask. It was her twenty-first birthday, something I’d heard about all week at work.

From my best friend Cameron.

Who was her brother .

I wanted to punch myself in the fucking nuts for ever walking up to this bar. Gritting my teeth, I stared down at her, keeping my facial expression even.

She picked up the mint green shot and knocked it back, licking at her bottom lip when she set the shot glass back down on the bar with a decisive clack. I kept my eyes firmly on hers and nowhere near her mouth or that tiny flash of her tongue.

“Yum. Thank you,” she said.

I grunted, backing away from where she stood. “Your brother’s back there,” I said, tilting my head in the direction of our table.

Poppy picked up the other drink and took a sip from the straw, her big, dark eyes locked on my face in a way that had my heart thudding uncomfortably.

Leave .

Leave now , something screamed in my head. Probably my conscience, currently working overtime trying to get me the fuck out of that mess.

The last person in the entire fucking world I should buy drinks for was Poppy Wilder.

Because she was too young. Too pretty. And too … in love with me.

Had been for years. Every time I walked in the room, from the day she turned fifteen, that girl looked at me like I hung the fucking moon.

I swallowed. Hard. Then gripped the reins of my sanity and let out a deep exhale.

“Happy birthday, Poppy,” I told her, giving one last glimpse at the front of her fucking dress that got us into this mess.

Where were her jeans? Her T-shirt and tennis shoes? The ponytail?

The Poppy I knew didn’t wear skintight dresses and have sex-messy hair and look like a motherfucking model.

The image of her legs and ass would be burned into my brain for a solid month, and God, there was no escaping the truth of that.

As I walked back to the table, I could feel it. The need to run. The need to clear my head of anything unwanted.

And a lot of unwanted thoughts were running wild at the moment. About perfect tits and long legs. Pink lips and soft tongues. The crack of a whip in my mind had me corralling those baser instincts.

All the things I actively avoided? The forevers and the I love yous and the open-heart search for something lasting. Those were all the things Poppy wanted. Which is why it didn’t matter what was under that dress or how good she looked or how she turned my stomach into knots with a single look .

Cameron was typing on his phone when I got back, and he gave me a nod. “My sisters are in the back,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” I answered grimly. “Thanks for telling me that’s why we came here, by the way.”

His eyebrows rose. “You saw them?”

“Just one.” I took a long drink of my beer. It was the ominous way I answered that told him exactly which of the sisters I’d seen.

Cameron grinned. “Oh, I bet that made her happy.”

I glared, which made the asshole laugh heartily. “It’s not funny. I thought she was … not her. I bought her a drink before I realized it.”

His laughter faded immediately. “Poppy?”

I gave him a short nod, my gut churning with unease.

Cameron eyed me, a healthy dose of brotherly protectiveness sparking in his gaze. “Do I need to worry about that?” he asked lightly.

“No.” I met his look steadily. “No. I promise. I’ll never … I would never .”

His expression eased. “I know you wouldn’t. Poppy is just … she’s got stars in her eyes, man. She wants the fairy tale. Always has.”

There was no need to respond, but I knew that too.

I wasn’t in the business of delivering anyone’s happily ever after unless their happy ending came in the form of one really great night. I didn’t want the fairy tale. I just wanted my freedom.

Cameron knew that too.

“Why don’t you go find someone?” I said, voice tense and tight.

Cameron laughed under his breath. “I’m too damn busy to date anyone.”

I gave him a look. “I didn’t say date.”

“I know,” he answered easily .

Wilders didn’t do casual. It was like embedded in their DNA or something.

I couldn’t pinpoint what was embedded into mine. Never really wanted to.

But when I took a drink of my beer, I closed my eyes, and stamped on the back of my eyelids was a blue dress, long hair, chest-tightening smile, and great fucking legs.

No.

No .

I set the beer down, a plan formulating in my head before I had the chance to think it through. “I, uh, think I might get away for a bit,” I told him. “I was thinking about heading up to Washington for a couple of weeks.”

Cameron nodded. “No problem. Just let me know when you’ll be back.”

I slapped him on the back, smiling when he winced. “That’s why you’re the best boss ever,” I told him.

Cameron rolled his eyes. “Give me a break. You and I both know you’re doing me the favor in this situation.”

“True. I am a very benevolent friend.”

He snorted. “I’ll remember that the next time you piss me off.”

“That won’t take long,” I said.

His sisters arrived at the table in a loud, giggling blur of dark hair and big smiles, dragging Poppy behind them, who was now wearing a twenty-first birthday sash over her blue dress. I kept my facial expression even, noting the pink tinge to her high cheekbones when she glanced over at me.

On second thought, maybe I’d leave for Washington now. Because I should’ve been out of this bar ten fucking minutes ago. At the moment, it felt like being in the same state as Poppy Wilder was a horrible idea.

“Drunk already, Pops?” Cameron asked his little sister.

She laughed. “Getting there.”

Adaline, the middle Wilder sister, slung an arm around Poppy’s shoulders. “She made a list of all the drinks she wants to try. What kind of sisters would we be if we didn’t help her?”

Cameron sighed. “Good ones, I’d reckon, depending on the size of the list.”

Poppy laughed. “Three checked off already! It’s gonna be a good night.”

Looking desperate for a subject change, Cameron lifted his chin at the gift bags that Adaline set in the middle of our table. “What did you guys get her?”

Poppy hissed something under her breath. Adaline merely smiled. “Greer got her a vibrator,” she proclaimed loudly.

The people at the table next to us swung their gaze in our direction immediately.

Cameron and I froze. He pinched the bridge of his nose while his other sister Greer laughed. Poppy picked up another brightly colored shot from the table and knocked it back. The motion made the length of her hair sweep down her back, and all the blood rushed between my legs as I registered it.

No.

No .

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m out of here,” I told Cameron under my breath.

“Take me with you?” he begged.

I slapped him on the back again. “Not a chance. You have to stay and babysit.”

I said my goodbyes, leaving my unfinished beer on the table, and even though I could feel Poppy’s gaze on me as I weaved through the crowds, I ignored the fact that I could breathe just a little bit easier when she wasn’t in sight.