He was a master of the humorless smirk. “So you keep saying.”
“Look, I know you weren’t either. We’re like two people walking fast with our heads down who ended up smacking into each other.”
“What we did felt a hell of a lot better than that.” He yanked on his own shirt and all those beautiful muscles were covered back up, but somehow that didn’t make it easier to bear because now she knew they were there. She knew what they felt like. God help her, what they tasted like.
“I have an appointment that I can’t miss in a few hours.” She buttoned and zipped her jeans, having to try twice because of her dang trembling fingers.
He gave her a closer look. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Sorry, honey.” The lines bracketing his mouth deepened. “I’m calling bullshit.”
She tied her hair into a quick ponytail. If she was going to leave with post-sex bedhead, she owed him the truth. “Fine. Actually, no. I’m not okay. I’m not even orbiting in okay’s solar system. But I also don’t want to talk about it right now.”
He paused, eyes darkening, before giving a single nod. “Fine.”
“See you around then.” She turned to leave.
“Wait.” His tone was ragged.
She closed her eyes and grimaced. Why was it so hard to go? “Mm-hmm?”
“I’d like to see you again.” How did he make that voice, all rough and snarling, have such a tender bite?
She tried to arch an eyebrow, go for casual, even as her mouth dried. “It’s a small town. I don’t have a Magic 8 Ball on me but your outlook is good.”
He shook his head, ignoring her lighthearted tone. “You know that’s not what I mean, Trouble.” His smile was dry, but hey, it was a start.
“Trouble?” He’d called her that before.
“That’s your new name. You’re welcome.”
“Good trouble or bad?”
“Depends on the situation.” That wolfish look he gave her. God, she was ready to drop her drawers again. Time to run before she sent her better judgment packing for a one-way vacation on a remote tropical island.
He cleared his throat. “I had a real good time with you.”
Those weren’t words of poetry, anything romantic, poignant, or even memorable. But the absolute sincerity in the words weakened her knees. Surely her better judgment would enjoy a mai tai and beach cabana.
The thought was dangerously tempting. This cottage did make a perfect love shack and—no! Retreat. Now. Don’t drag him into your medical drama-rama.
Sigh. Too true. Being a responsible adult was no fun but those were the apples.
“Me too. Okay. I’ll show myself out.” She patted her hair. The ponytail felt like a wild rat’s nest. She must look absolutely feral. “Goodbye, Wilder.” There wasn’t a clock in sight but she must have grabbed her coat and purse and been out the door in a world record time.
She walked up Castle Lane, her breath coming out in small white clouds as she puffed up the steepest bit. Add getting regular cardio to her “to do” list as well. Maybe a kettle ball. Or Zumba?
Or tantric sex?
After ten minutes she hit the stop sign at the top of the hill, where the freshly shoveled sidewalk began next to the Welcome to Brightwater sign. It was there that she finally allowed herself the luxury of two tears, one escaping out each eye before she swiped the rest away. No need to overspend her sorrow allowance. Time to pull the plug on the pity party. She didn’t want to medal in the Pain Olympics.
But really? Really, universe? She finally met someone she connected to, finally felt that indefinable spark she’d read about her whole entire life, and it was right now, when her life was a veritable shit storm.
“No fair!” She kicked a snowdrift, wincing as a cold wash of snow slipped into the top of her ankle boot.
Temper tantrums were pointless, especially as she might be unable to recall any of this in a few short years. She could forget all about this man, what he did, how she felt when near him. And suddenly that scared her more than anything.
WILDER GRIPPED HIS phone, pacing across the kitchen. Sawyer answered on the third ring.
“Kane.” His younger brother sounded distracted.
Wilder coughed into his fist. Maybe this was a bad idea. He wasn’t a guy known to give in to impulse. “It’s me. You busy?”
“What? No,” Sawyer said quickly. “I’m always here for you, man, just a bit sidetracked is all. There was another fire this morning at dawn.”
“Shit.” Wilder froze. “Where?”
“New place set up the hill from the old depot on the edge of town.” Sawyer didn’t elaborate but there was no denying this was a troubling development.
“Want to talk it out later?”
A pause. “You’re freely offering to have a conversation?” Incredulity crept into Sawyer’s stoic voice.
“Yeah, guess I am.” He cleared his throat. “And there’s another thing, the reason I called in the first place.”
“Shoot.”
“I want to go buy a new vehicle. An automatic. I’m sick of being stuck. I need to get out more.” After Quinn left this morning, he went out and chopped as much firewood as he could pile into the kitchen. Then he tried whittling and cut himself four times before he tossed the knife across the table, cursing his distraction. Something had shifted in him during the night. He didn’t know what, not exactly, but suddenly the four walls of this cottage felt too damn confining by half.
He wanted to get out in the world a little. It seemed like there was a hell of a lot that he might be missing.
“That’s good news, great.” Sawyer caught himself, tried to sound a little less eager. “About damn time.”
Wilder’s mouth quirked. “Don’t get any big ideas about hugging me or anything.”
“Course not. But this is me saying that I’m proud of you, big brother.”
“Hanging up now.” His cheeks flexed. Where had this full-blown smile come from? Quinn. Forty-eight hours ago he had nothing and now . . . what? As quick as it came, his beam faded.
Facts were still facts, stubborn bastards. This morning she couldn’t leave fast enough. You could almost hear the sound of burning rubber as she fled his house. But one thing niggled at him despite all his attempts at distraction: the look in her eyes the moment before she bolted, more regret than relief.
He should know. He’d seen that particular expression staring back in the mirror enough.
His features twisted into a glower as another thought whispered. Or was it pity?
“Fuck.” He tilted back his head and exhaled a drawn-out breath that came out closer to a growl. His guts were tied in an impossible knot.
Maybe he should tell Sawyer to forget it. Bid the memory of Quinn good riddance. Still, another stubborn part of him couldn’t deny the pleasurable chill he got every time Quinn so much as glanced in his direction.
Shit. He was in trouble, big trouble over this woman, but his instincts wavered between flight and fight.
But fight for what?
And how did she feel?
When did life get so damn confusing?
The tangled, mixed-up feelings remained well into the afternoon, even after he paid for a new 4Runner SUV, trading in the Jeep.
“Your ride handles well,” Sawyer said as they pulled out of the dealership. “Got to love that new car smell.”
“Yup.” Wilder turned onto the road, easing into traffic. There were three cars on the road, which meant it was busy out.
“Hungry?” Sawyer rested his elbow on the armrest. “Want to go grab a beer and burger at The Dirty Shame?”
“Don’t you have to get on home?” Annie and Atticus were no doubt waiting for him. He didn’t want to keep his brother from his new family.
“No one’s there. They went to San Francisco to visit Annie’s sister and do some holiday shopping.”
“Gotcha.” Wilder wasn’t all that hungry. Confusion killed his appetite. “How about you take me by the site of the morning’s fire?” Work would refocus him. It always did.
“Sure thing.” Sawyer fired off a few quick directions. “Same situation as last time. Empty place, but new, only built last summer. One of those McMansions, a five bedroom, three bathroom job.”