Forbidden Fling (Wildwood Book 1) (10 page)

He paused beside Ellen and bent to wrap his free arm around her shoulders in a gentle hug, then kissed her head. “Hey, Auntie.”

She didn’t respond, but she lifted a hand to pat his.

Ethan pulled out his mother’s chair and scooted it in for her as she sat, then pressed a hand to her shoulder and rested his chin on her head. “What’s for dinner?”

“There’s a plate for you in the oven, honey. Fried chicken, spicy roasted green beans with the candied bacon you love, and buttermilk cornbread waffles.”

“
Damn
, that sounds good.” He straightened and met his father’s gaze across the table. “Sorry I’m late. Dad loaned me out to the Fischers.”

One corner of Jack’s lips twitched in a dry smile, which translated into annoyance with Ethan’s subtle complaint.

He turned into the kitchen, grabbed a hot pad, and pulled his plate from the oven as his father asked, “How’s their pool house coming along?”

“Just fine,” he said, returning to the table. “Definitely not something I needed to look at on a Sunday.”

“Your schedule’s so full. He told me he’d have to wait three weeks for a routine inspection.”

“Jack,” his mother scolded softly. “Ethan deserves a day off, too.”

“He had one. Yesterday.”

Yes, he had, and it had been one of the longest damn days of his life. A day filled with thoughts of Delaney. Of how badly she could hurt him. Of how badly she could hurt his family—again. A day of minutes passing as slowly as hours as his thoughts turned to their night together, to how badly he wanted to feel her touch, her kiss, her body against his. When he shouldn’t have been thinking about her at all.

Ethan shook his head, lifting a drumstick to his mouth. “Forget it, Mom.” He deliberately took the spotlight away from his father in an attempt to actually enjoy his Sunday dinner with the family for a change. “How’s the investment world, Uncle Wayne?”

“Oh, depends.” He put down his fork, picked up his wine, and started talking about some type of stock being compromised by a merger. Ethan’s eyes glazed over within thirty seconds, but the way Wayne went on and on gave Ethan a chance to eat while the others finished off their desserts. “Ethan, you should really look at real estate investment. Finish up that cottage of yours, sell it for a profit, and do something with that cash.”

“I was working on just that when I was called away. See, I’ve got two schedules, Uncle Wayne—my regular schedule and the mayor’s favor schedule.”

“And the best use of Ethan’s time,” Jack cut in, “is putting one hundred percent focus on those schedules. Do you have a demolition contractor lined up for the Hart property? I want them on-site at dawn with a wrecking ball the day their deadline runs out.”

Ethan looked at his mom. “This is amazing.” He traded the chicken bone for his napkin and wiped his hands, then his mouth. “You did something different—I can tell.”

His mother beamed, clasping her hands under her chin. “I didn’t think you’d notice. No one else did.”

“Oh, hell yeah. How could you not notice? It’s got deeper, richer flavor. The spices . . . I don’t know—they’re just perfectly balanced. The coating is crunchy but tender. The meat is juicy.” He picked up another piece. “What’d you do?”

She laughed. Giggled, actually. “You know that Octoberfest that you thought bombed, and I asked you to bring me some because I know you never—”

“Make a bad beer.” He grinned. “Yes.”

“Well, I was reading about beer pairings and how the Octoberfest had all the perfect elements to balance with fried chicken, so I combined the brine and the buttermilk and added a few bottles of Octoberfest and marinated it overnight.”

He sat back, wiping his mouth again. “No way.”

“Yep.” She leaned her forearms on the table, her eyes twinkling with delight.

She was so proud of herself, and Ethan was touched that using his beer brought her such pleasure. She was the only one in the family who gave a damn about his deepest passion. A passion she used to share with Ethan and Pops before the tragedy split their family. The only one who still asked after Pops’s well-being.

Ethan covered her hand with his. “I want the recipe.”

“You haven’t even started renovating your kitchen,” Austin said. “You can barely cook macaroni and cheese in what you’ve got.”

Ethan didn’t look away from his mom as he batted the air at his ear. “Is there a gnat in here? There’s something whining in my—”

Austin shoved Ethan’s shoulder. Adam laughed.

Ethan cut a look toward his brother, who was usually outfitted in his deputy’s uniform. “Why aren’t you on duty?”

He had that shit-eating grin on his face. “My day off.”

Ethan lifted his hands in a what’s-up-with-that gesture, then turned his gaze on his cousin. “What about you, Adam? The lumberyard ever give you a day off?”

His cousin grinned. “Two days. Every week.”

“Huh.” He challenged his father’s dry expression. “Funny how that works.”

He chanced a glance at Ellen. She’d given up on the patterns and set down her fork. Now she just sat there like a zombie, her arms crossed, staring at nothing.

An old, familiar guilt tore at Ethan’s heart. He couldn’t even imagine having children, let alone losing one, so he couldn’t even begin to conceive the depths of despair Ellen had suffered since Ian’s death.

He looked at Wayne, but his uncle didn’t have an answer to Ethan’s silent question of whether or not his aunt was okay. Instead he brought up the last topic Ethan thought ought to be discussed, considering Ellen’s current state of distress.

“I heard you did a walk-through on the bar with Delaney Hart.”

Crap.
Word in this town traveled at freaking warp speed. He’d been half expecting Pops to bring it up earlier.

Ellen’s gaze flickered back to the present. Her watery hazel eyes darted to Ethan’s face, then away.

“Yeah.” Ethan picked up his waffle, but he’d suddenly lost his appetite. He tore at the bread to give his hands something to do. “Nothing official.”

“What are her plans?” Wayne asked.

“Her plans don’t matter,” Jack said. “That building is coming down. Ethan will see to it—”

“Dad. Don’t make promises for me. I have rules—
laws
—I have to follow.”

“Bullshit.” His father sat forward, and the stare he leveled on Ethan was that you’ll-do-it-or-else look. “You have a lot of leeway in your position. A lot of power. And there is no place for that eyesore or that woman in this community.” He tapped the tabletop with a rigid index finger to emphasize his point. “That building has to come down, and she has to go.”

Ethan sighed and popped a piece of waffle in his mouth. Once he’d finished the bite, he said, “You know, it’s ironic if you think about it.”

“What is?”

“That you’re the reason Delaney Hart is back in town. And you’re the reason she’s looking at the bar. Yet you’re the person most interested in seeing them both gone. That’s called irony.”

Wayne’s gaze dropped to the table, but Ellen’s questioning frown turned on Jack.

God, his family was so screwed up.

Jack flashed an indignant look between Ellen and Ethan. “I didn’t—”

“It was your visual nuisance ordinance that forced the Harts to do something with the property,” Ethan said. “If you’d never pushed that law, Delaney wouldn’t have come back, and she sure as hell wouldn’t be messing with that bar.”

“Jack,” his mother said, her voice troubled. “You told me the citizens brought that ordinance to the city council.”

“They did. That ordinance is a mandate for the people by the people.”

“Some
people
just have louder voices and bigger wallets.” Adam speared a strawberry, then looked at Wayne. “Ain’t that right, Dad?”

Ellen’s gaze snapped to her husband. “Wayne?”

He wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders, pulling her close, and treated all the men at the table to a glare. “And to think we almost got through a normal outing. Thanks, guys.”

“Thank Jack.” If there was one thing Ethan had learned over the last few years, it was to place blame—or credit—where it belonged. “Someone reminded me recently that at the end of the day all roads lead to the mayor—right, Dad?”

“Shut your mouth,” his father bit out.

Ethan stuffed another piece of waffle in his mouth to keep himself from adding fuel to the fire.

His mother stood as Wayne helped Ellen to her feet and started toward the front door.

Adam heaved a sigh, stood, and fist-bumped Austin and Ethan. “Later, dudes.”

Once they were all out of the room, Austin pushed his plate back, crossed his arms on the table, and leaned forward, smirking at Ethan. “Way to clear a room, bro.”

Ethan shook his head. “Not me.” He pointed at Jack with the remainder of his waffle. “Him.”

One look at the fury stewing on his father’s face and Ethan grabbed his tea off the table. Jack’s fist slammed the wood, rattling all the silver and glassware like an earthquake.

“Whoa . . .” Austin shoved his chair back, but not quickly enough, and the liquid spilled into his lap. “Jesus Christ, Dad.”

Austin’s fumbling attempt to stop the spill of tea was just the comic relief needed to break the stress, and Ethan started laughing.

“Don’t
ever
talk to me like that in front of other people again.” Jack’s irate demand cut through the chaos, but it didn’t faze Ethan. He’d experienced every level of his father’s rage.

Ethan’s laugh at Austin eased into a chuckle. “Extend me the same courtesy,
Mayor
, and I’ll consider it.”

Jack shot to his feet, face scrunched in a furious scowl, lips pursed to form words—scathing, condescending, demanding words, Ethan knew from experience—just as his mother turned into the dining room.

“What in the hell?” She looked at the mess Austin was still mopping up with stress etched into her forehead and bracketing her mouth. Then her gaze shot right to her husband. “Really, Jack? I can’t leave you three alone for thirty seconds?”

Ethan’s father shoved his chair aside and marched out of the dining room in the direction of the den. His mother watched him go, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, as if she were thinking. In moments like this, Ethan wondered why she hadn’t ever left Jack. She deserved so much better.

“Later, bro,” Ethan said, pushing to his feet. He picked up his plate and paused beside his mother on the way to the kitchen. “Thanks for dinner. Sorry Dad’s pissed off.”

She shook her head. “Never mind him.” She patted his chest, and her expression softened. “Thanks for coming, honey. It’s really good to see you.”

“How about dinner next week? Just you and me.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead, then plucked the last waffle off his plate and grinned down at her. “I’ll treat you to Italian at DaVinci’s and a bottle of your favorite merlot.”

“That’s sweet, but maybe after all this has died down. It’s hard enough to live with your father as it is.”

Disappointed, he managed a nod and walked to his truck, wondering when his family had become such a mess—or if it had always been a mess and he just hadn’t been able to see it as a boy.

On his way home, Ethan stopped at the warehouse to check stock so he could put in an order for supplies. He saw the lights on over at The Bad Seed and Delaney’s Jeep sitting out front.

He parked and stared at the property for a long time, ticked that he couldn’t get Delaney off his mind. And twisted over the turmoil this situation had created in his family, which all stemmed from his father—the prick. He created chaos everywhere he turned. Despite all that—or maybe because of it—Ethan made his way over to the bar. While things between him and Delaney might not be good, they still weren’t as backward and fucked up as things between him and his family.

With his hands in his pockets, head down so he didn’t trip over the uneven ground, he realized that he was headed toward the person whose presence in town had whipped up chaos in his life, because she was the one person who seemed to be able to quiet the chaos inside
him
.

He kept hearing her sweet voice saying,
“As much as I would love to get another taste of what we had last night . . .”
And it reminded him that despite the problems, she still wanted him.

Which made this visit even more asinine. But it didn’t stop him from climbing the front steps toward the bar’s open front door.

He paused at the new screen that had been installed—one of those removable, draping screens that kept bugs out—and scanned the interior, telling himself he was really just checking up on her. He was just about to call out her name when he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye, and his gaze snapped that direction.

Delaney was on her knees, curled over something on the floor in a way that spiked alarm through Ethan’s chest. He swiped the screen aside, stepping inside. “Delaney?” He was halfway to her when she straightened and glanced over her shoulder.

“What?”

He stopped, taking in the small box she’d been looking through, and let a relived breath slide from his lungs. “What are you doing? I thought you were hurt.”

She sat back on her heels and gazed up at him. “Just looking through old photos. Worst thing that could happen is a paper cut.”

Her smart-ass attitude annoyed him, but seeing her like that, looking openly, confidently up at him with that sassy spark in her eyes, flung him back to their night together. The “goddess on her knees” metaphor filled his mind and punched heat between his legs. He’d never met a woman worthy of that title—until Delaney.

Ethan rubbed a hand over his face to force the sexual images from his mind. That wasn’t why he was here.

Delaney stood and carried the box toward the long mahogany bar. She had on ripped jeans, a tank top, and flip-flops. With her hair down and tucked behind her ears and no makeup, she looked young and fresh and just as sexy as she’d been in heels and a tight skirt.

“What brings you by, Inspector Hayes?” She slid onto a stool and pulled one foot to the padded top, hugging her knee close to her chest. “Checking up on me?”

He wasn’t going to go there. “I really didn’t like the way our walk-through went.” He strolled toward the bar and leaned against it, facing her. “Can we, I don’t know, find common ground to share?”