Forbidden Fling (Wildwood Book 1) (19 page)

God, that was so classic Delaney. The hell he didn’t know her.

“You want to talk about lies?” Pops tossed back. “Let’s talk about your Delaney’s-just-passin’-through-town story.”

Ethan rolled his eyes and rubbed a hand down his face. “I didn’t see the point in upsetting you for nothing. It’s nothing to worry about. The clock is ticking. She’s not on my schedule. Hell, she hasn’t even made up her mind what she wants to do. There is no way she can get it all together in a couple of days.”

Harlan’s gaze held on Delaney as she put Homie through the obedience paces. His lips pursed, and his gray brows pulled together, creating a deep V of folds on his forehead. “She don’t look worried to me.”

“She doesn’t know enough to be worried.”

His grandfather’s gaze cut to Ethan’s with a combination of irritation and disbelief. “I just love the way you think you know it all.”

“You know different?”

“I know a lot more than you, but with that thick skull o’ yours . . .” Harlan shook his head and hobbled toward the Scrub-a-Pup melee. “Guess you’ll always have surprises in your future. Go on with your jabberin’, boys. I’ve gotta get my dog back and get home. Got hops to farm.”

“What did that mean?” Caleb asked Ethan.

“I don’t know.” He glanced at his friend. “You’re the information center. You’re the one who’s supposed to know everything.”

Caleb’s brows rose, his focus still on the dog wash. “What I know right now is that Delaney has just turned your grouchy old grandfather into a happy-go-lucky charmer in front of my damn eyes.”

When Ethan refocused on his grandfather, Harlan hadn’t gotten his dog or gone home. Ethan didn’t know what Delaney said, but she’d gotten Harlan to let her wash, dry,
and
brush Homie, all while Harlan sat on a bench nearby chatting and laughing with her.

“Holy shit,” he murmured.

“You were right on about that dog,” Caleb said, turning his gaze on Ethan. “How did you know?”

“Humans are creatures of habit, patterns are developed for a reason, and character is built over time. People don’t change overnight.”

Phoebe’s words filled Ethan’s head and made his lips curve. “Because I know Delaney.”

“I might have to rethink you hooking up with her,” Caleb said. “If she can do that for Harlan, just think what she could do for you given a little time. Just sayin’ . . .”

Ethan smacked his friend’s chest. “Asshole.”

But Caleb was right. She’d walked into his warehouse and made a huge change with one minor suggestion. She’d slept with him one night and turned his damn world upside down. And her own self-confidence had created a whole new sense of certainty within Ethan.

The woman made sweeping changes simply by being herself.

And he wanted more of it. More of her.

He didn’t give a shit who knew they were seeing each other or what trouble it caused. He didn’t give a shit if the smart thing to do would be to stay away. He only knew he needed more time with that woman. A lot more time.

EIGHT

Delaney sat at a corner table in Patterson’s, her elbows on the scarred wood, tired eyes scanning the screen of her laptop as she scrolled through countertop materials on a vendor’s website.

The bar was relatively quiet, with most of the customers watching the Giants game from their stools at the scarred length of wood. Someone with a love of classic rock kept pumping the vintage jukebox full of quarters, and Delaney was about ready to arm wrestle the oldies addict for a little Seether or Lifehouse or Buckcherry.

Instead she calculated finishes, prices, and square footage in her head. As she jotted numbers, watching the total amount rise, her anxiety mounted in tandem.

Under normal conditions, she’d already have everything picked, calculated, scheduled, and ready to order once the final go-ahead had been given. Only this go-ahead was all on her. All the cash supporting the go-ahead was on her, too. And she could easily see that keeping the costs contained to her every red cent was going to be more than just a little challenging. It was going to be impossible.

And wouldn’t that just give Jack Hayes all the arrogant satisfaction he craved?

God that ate at her.

She sighed, groaned, and rubbed her eyes. Sleep had been in short supply as she’d taken the necessary steps toward obtaining a building permit over the last week. Even though she wouldn’t make a final decision until all the facts and figures were in, Delaney knew exactly how much work went into the drawings and documents required in this process. And if there was one thing she’d become over the last decade, it was prepared. Prepared to pick up where her mother left off raising her sisters. Prepared to run the bar when her father was passed out drunk. Prepared to survive when she’d left Wildwood. Prepared to take opportunities as they arose in the years since.

And the moment Phoebe had twisted Delaney’s mind around to see the bar as an opportunity—whether she wanted to admit it or not—that innate survivor inside her wouldn’t allow her to simply throw it away out of spite. Especially not when her sisters still needed so much help. Or when her guilt over walking away while they’d been too young to do the same still gnawed at her conscience.

But shit . . . just thinking about the magnitude of the job and the emotional stress it was taking on her, on Ethan, on Ellen, on their whole family, kicked up her body heat, and she pulled at the buttons on her sundress, flapping the material at her chest for air as she lowered her gaze to her work again.

Delaney’s mind tugged back to her run-in with Ethan’s father on the street earlier in the day. The entire ten minutes fast-forwarded through her memory in seconds, and her gut knotted.

She’d anticipated lingering resentment and hard feelings among the Ryan and Hayes families, but Jack’s belligerence had been over the top. He wasn’t even Ian’s father. Jack and Wayne weren’t even brothers. On the one hand, Delaney knew she shouldn’t judge someone based on how they grieved. On the other, Jack’s response to her presence in town for a short time—to do something good for the community, something
he’d
mandated—was extreme.

An eerie tingle prickled along her shoulders. Something was going on beneath the surface here. She’d stepped on a hidden hornet’s nest of some kind and was sure she would get stung any minute. But without knowing what festered beneath the surface, she had no idea what to expect next. And that, more than the animosity itself, unnerved her most.

She pulled out her phone to call Phoebe and get her take on the renovation situation, maybe pop in a few questions about Jack, but the time shone back at her. At only 8:00 p.m. her aunt would still be at the store.

The waitress came by with a refill on Delaney’s soda. She thanked the woman, then forced her attention back to the numbers in front of her and reminded herself she would have to spend money to make money. But this project encompassed so many roadblocks she couldn’t even see them all. Which meant she couldn’t prepare for them. And in renovation, that never—
never
—turned out well for the financier. In this case: her.

For the hundredth time since she’d arrived, she wondered if demolishing the damn place and taking the hit would end up being the better plan for the long haul.

But without knowing what the long haul looked like . . .

Delaney heaved a sigh, picked up her phone, and redialed Avery. This would be the fifth message if she didn’t pick up. At the click of Avery’s answering machine, Delaney’s stomach pulled in disappointment.

“Hey, just me, your psycho sister. Hope you’re okay. I know you probably don’t want to deal with this any more than I do. Believe me—I get it. And I know I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, so you’re probably thinking, ‘Screw her—I’m not calling her back.’ That’s okay, too. I’m really trying to be there in the future for you and Chloe by doing something with this dive that’s going to benefit all of us. But without knowing what your plans are, that’s pretty tough. I’d really love to hear your voice, talk about your life, maybe bounce a few ideas off you. If you know how I can get ahold of Chloe, I’d like to check in on her. Phoebe’s pretty worried. Okay. That’s all. I love you.”

Delaney disconnected and dropped the phone. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her forehead, then rested her head on her hand.

“Are you okay?”

Ethan’s voice startled her. She jerked her head up and dropped her arms to cover the papers and catalogs scattered over the table as if she were a teenage boy caught looking at a stack of
Penthouse
magazines.

“You scared me.” She shoved everything into folders and those folders into her laptop case. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“You’re not answering my calls or texts. I stopped by the bar, but it was locked. I’ve been worried.” His gaze darted to her briefcase. “What are you doing?”

“Research.” She pushed her indecision over the bar away and focused on Ethan, whose brow was creased in concern. When was the last time a man had cared enough to worry about her? “I was hoping we could talk a minute.”

He slid into the booth without hesitation and right to her side until their thighs pressed, then covered her hand on the table with his. The gesture tugged at her belly, and she tried to pull away only to find he wouldn’t let go.

“I’m
so
sorry about my father. He’s out of control.” Ethan’s eyes flooded with guilt, his voice with apology. “I’m going to sit him down and set him straight—”

“Ethan,” she cut him off, pulling their joined hands beneath the table. After a quick glance around the bar to make sure she didn’t recognize any Wildwood faces, she pushed the words out before she changed her mind or lost her nerve. “Do what you need to do with your father for your own sake, but regardless, we need to stop this . . . this
thing
between us.”

A flicker of confused panic lit his eyes. “Look, I know that thing with my dad this morning was rough, but—”

“I’m not afraid of him,” she clarified, only half lying. “I won’t be here long, and as much as he might want to, he can’t hurt me. But I’m afraid of how his anger could turn on you.
You
he can hurt. We just need to stay away from each other so things like what happened today won’t happen in the future.”

“Hold on, hold on—”

She shook her head and met his eyes directly, but her stomach felt as if it were cramping around a sharp rock. “What we had was one night, and it’s done. I just came here so I could tell you in person without being seen with you in Wildwood again.”

He let out a sigh so deep, his shoulders sank. The hurt that reflected on his face both surprised and pained Delaney. He broke eye contact and scanned the bar, but he still held her hand tight. His gaze focused on the game for a few seconds, and she closed the lid on her laptop. He wasn’t even gone yet, and she already felt his absence in her life.

When he looked at her again, his jaw was set with determination. “If we could keep it quiet, just between you and me, would you want to keep seeing me?”

“What? I—that’s—”

“Because I want more, Delaney.”

The deliberation in his words, in his expression, in his tone stole her breath.

She had to regroup. The thought of a few wildly passionate nights with Ethan was so tempting she actually considered it for a hot second. Then reality struck, and the risks they would be taking pushed to the forefront of her mind. If anyone found out they were sleeping together, it would launch the next chapter in the Hart-Hayes feud.

Sleeping with the enemy.

The thought came from somewhere in her distant past and rang a dark bell of truth.

Of course. What better way to get back at his father?

This she understood.

“Look, I totally get what you’re going through,” she said, searching for rationale to quell the sting of hurt. “He’s a powerful man, you work for the city, and sometimes you feel trapped. And that shit he pulled today wasn’t right. He was a total ass. He embarrassed you, and you’re angry. You want to get back at him by getting another little piece of the forbidden. To hold on to it like a naughty little secret you can look back on when you feel stuck, when you can’t breathe, to help you let go of the resentment eating at you in the moment.

“I, of all people, get that. I really,
really
get that. But what I learned the hard way is that when you’re focused on getting revenge, you forget to look around and take in the big picture. You forget that while this may seem like a morsel of delectable sin for your memory banks, if anyone found out, it would spread like wildfire and scorch everything in your life—your relationship with your family, your job, your future here in Wildwood.

“A few nights and the opportunity to feel like you got something over on your father isn’t worth your entire future. You’ve already lost so much. I don’t want to see you lose any more. And I certainly don’t want to be the reason you lose it
again
—”

“Don’t.”

His hot, angry rasp made Delaney suck in the words waiting to spill. She curved her lips over her teeth and let her gaze blur over the Apple logo on the cover of her laptop.

“You are
not
a
game
to me. I’m not
using you
in some sick revenge plot against my—” His angry words broke off. She tried to slide her hand from his, but he had it wrapped so tightly her fingers had gone numb. “
No ties
does
not
mean you’re less important. It means . . . it just means . . . I’m too damaged to offer anything more.”

That hit her completely wrong, a fact that must have registered on her face when she finally looked up because he cut his gaze away. “Don’t, Delaney.”

“Don’t what? Tell you that’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard in a long damn time? That’s . . . that’s just . . .” She shook her head. “
Why
would you think that? The simple fact that you’re
not
like the rest of your family makes you a winner. But you’ve also got everything going for you.”

“Did you believe anyone trying to tell you the same things when you were young?”

“You’re
not
a teenager.”

“You’re right. We’re both adults, and I’m done letting my family determine the path of my life. I know I shouldn’t be asking you to deal with it, but if we keep things between us quiet, there doesn’t have to be any drama.”

“This town is too small. There’s no way—”

“There’s always a way.”

He clamped his free hand over her thigh below the hem of her dress. His heat trailed up her body until fire licked between her legs. She felt shaky and vulnerable. She wanted him, needed him in far too many ways, yet had to push him away. The conflict exhausted her.

“I can’t do this. I’m so tired. And if we draw too much attention . . . I don’t want us being together here to get back to town. I need to go.”

She tried to stand. He held tightly to her hand and pulled her back to a seat. The hand on her thigh slid higher. “Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me you’re not shivering because you need to feel my mouth and hands all over your body.”

Heat splashed across her skin and stole her breath. “Holy shit . . .”

He leaned in until his head touched hers. “Tell me you aren’t wet right now because you need me inside you.”

“Stop, Ethan,” she rasped, her throat tight with desire. “This is crazy. We’re not kids. This isn’t a harmless fling. Us, together, it carries consequences.”

“And you still want it as much as I do.”

Her eyes darted past him, to a man in a uniform standing in the doorway, scanning the room.

An icicle stabbed her heart.

“Shit.”
She forced her gaze back to Ethan. “I need you to listen to me. First,
don’t move
. Second, follow my lead.”

“What?”

“No time to explain.” In her peripheral vision she saw Austin saunter toward their table. “Your brother’s here. He saw us.” Ethan’s head started to turn. “
Don’t. Look.
Just
follow my lead
.”

She sat back, put on her bitch face, and raised her voice when she said, “I don’t care what you want. And I don’t care what your father wants. I’m doing the only thing I can do. So just back off already.”

She slid out of the booth and pushed her laptop and all her folders into her bag, then slung it over her shoulder and straightened, prepared to walk off as if she hadn’t seen Austin come in.

She stopped short. “Oh, perfect. This day just couldn’t get any better.”

“There a problem here, folks?” Austin asked.

She wrapped her fingers around the strap of her bag and mentally shored up for the confrontation. He still oozed arrogant confidence and looked just as dangerously formidable as he had the first time she’d seen him in navy and gold with a gun strapped to his hip.

Only she wasn’t shocked into silence this time and had the insane urge to blurt out something scathingly sarcastic.
Looks like they’ll give anyone a badge and a gun these days
came to mind.
So it’s true—the only difference between criminals and cops is a badge
followed on its heels.