Running Wild（Wild #3）
K. A. Tucker
To everyone who loves spending time in this world as much as I do, especially those willing to go into this story with an open mind and a soft heart.
PROLOGUE
August 2018
“I’m in love with you. Haven’t you figured that out yet, you big dummy?” The stark declaration competes with the crunch of gravel beneath my boots as I trudge toward the steel-gray building. Nearby, an Otter’s propeller hums, preparing for takeoff. At least the fog that stalled my flight from Anchorage this morning has lifted, but the sky is murky, and the drizzle has me squinting.
I release a shaky breath, my heart racing. Am I really doing this? After practicing some iteration of those words in front of my mirror countless times, will I finally work up the nerve to say them out loud to Jonah’s face?
I’ve only been secretly pining for him for a few years.
Ever since that day I walked up to the red Cessna, my veterinarian bag in hand, to meet the bushy-faced pilot. I felt the spark instantly. There was no mistaking the returning interest in those stunning blue eyes, the color of an Alaskan sky on a cloudless winter’s day. And, by the end of those two days, flying to remote villages to vaccinate and treat animals in need, all while contending with Jonah’s piercing gaze, barking laughter, and flirtatious banter, that spark had erupted into a smoldering fire.
I knew I was in trouble, the diamond engagement ring heavy on my finger, outweighed only by guilt for my disloyal thoughts.
I said goodbye to my pilot and flew back to my side of Alaska, convinced myself that the attraction would dwindle, that what I was feeling would vanish. I already knew that was a lie, one I clung to for an entire year, while quietly falling in love with a man who wasn’t my fiancé under the cover of providing philanthropic aid to the villagers and their four-legged family members.
The thing is, Jonah is one of the smartest men I’ve ever met, as well as the most perceptive. Deep down, he knows how I feel. He must. I’ve dropped enough hints over the years. All our late-night phone calls and days spent flying together. For God’s sake, I kissed him once, that night so long ago, emboldened by liquid courage and the knowledge that he had hopped in his plane and flown hours over the mountain range to see me the very same day I told him I’d ended my engagement. As if he’d been waiting for his chance.
I didn’t imagine the chemistry, either; it wasn’t one-sided. I felt the way Jonah responded—those seconds that still burn in my memory, his lips eager against mine—before the worry of destroying our strong friendship ruined the moment.
He acknowledged his attraction to me. He told me he thought I was beautiful, kind, and brilliant.
And then we both agreed to put aside those feelings for the sake of our friendship. Just box them up, pretend the kiss didn’t happen, and go on being Jonah and Marie. Best friends.
It’s been years since that night, and I’ve honored that promise, gritting my teeth while watching him cycle through shallow relationships with women who never had a chance of keeping his interest. But my feelings have only grown stronger. Lately, they’ve become unbearable, bottled up like this.
Jonah is my person. I can read every glower, every smirk, every grunt. I can call him on his bullshit when he’s being an ass and sink into his arms when he’s showing his gentler side. He’s the first one I call when I need to talk, the only one who knows me better than I know myself, the one I miss terribly whenever I’m not here.
He’s the man I want to experience the rest of my life with.
He is it for me.
And after receiving the stomach-curdling message from Agnes about Jonah’s plane crash, I decided it’s time I said all this out loud. Maybe hearing it will make the brute finally put aside his fear and see what he’ll be gaining rather than risking.
The aqua-blue Alaska Wild sign looks more vibrant than usual, but that could be the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Swallowing my nerves, I wipe away wet tendrils of hair that cling to my forehead and push through the door. The familiar and welcoming smell of coffee fills my nostrils.
“Marie!” Sharon shrieks, her hand on her swollen belly as she charges for me. I should have expected this greeting; I wasn’t supposed to arrive until Monday, and I didn’t tell anyone except Crystal, the local animal rescue group leader who lets me crash in her guest cabin while I’m in town.
Alaska Wild’s pregnant receptionist seems to have doubled in size since I last saw her. I drop my bag, my attention stalling on her only for a split second before traveling beyond, to the brawny frame leaning against the reception counter, the grinning, handsome face I’ve been aching four long weeks to see. Except … I frown. Jonah’s wild blond mane and beard that I tease him about regularly have vanished, replaced by a tidy beard a fraction of its original size and shorter hair that looks styled with product?