Smolder: The Wildwood Series (4 page)

Growling again, she threw her arms out, her hands landing on his chest. With more force than he expected, she shoved him away from her and he went stumbling back, gaping at her while she sent him a look that clearly said
screw you.
Before he could stop her, she pushed past him and for a moment he could do nothing but let her go.

It took everything in him
not
to stop her but then, like an idiot, he let her go.

Delilah made her way down the hall before she turned to glare at him, her eyes glowing in the dim light. “I swear to God, you’re the most ignorant person I’ve ever met in my life. Do you do that on purpose or what?”

“Do I do what on purpose?” He scratched at the center of his chest, hating how his heart was still beating erratically, so hard it felt like it was going to bust right through his rib cage.

They stared at each other for a long, quiet moment. He could hear the muffled voices coming from outside, the kitchen door slamming. Most likely it was Wren making her way to the backyard. He hoped like hell she wouldn’t spread rumors about what she just saw.

Knowing his sister, she’d probably tell Harper. And West. And anyone else with ears. She had a big enough mouth.

“You make me insane,” Delilah finally said, her voice . . . sad? Well, hell he hadn’t expected that. Irritation yes. That was the name of their game. But upsetting her? Making her sad? Making her look so damn . . . hopeless?

He didn’t like that. At all. But what could he say? What could he do to make it better? He was an expert at his job. Could handle any tough situation thrown at him. But when it came to women—when it came to
this
particular woman—he was clueless.

“Figures you’d have no reply,” she muttered. With a roll of her eyes and a flick of her ponytail, she started to walk away but he caught up with her in three long strides, grasping her slender arm so she couldn’t escape. She glanced over her shoulder at him, those big brown eyes wide and full of so many questions. Questions he wasn’t prepared to answer.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low, his stomach doing weird flip-flops when her gaze dropped to his mouth and seemed to linger there. The electric buzz was still there, sizzling between them, pinging between their bodies, and he felt as if every hair was standing on end.

“You say that a lot, you know.” She sighed and carefully disentangled her arm from his hold. He immediately missed touching her. “It doesn’t have to be this difficult.”

She was right. He fought the attraction they had for each other constantly. “I don’t know if you understand what exactly I’m struggling with . . . ”

“I think you struggle with the same thing I do. You’re just not brave enough to go for it.” She stared him down but he refused to flinch. Delilah had basically just called him a coward. And that hurt. “I don’t know how much more obvious I need to be.”

“Dee—” He started but she reached toward him, her fingers settling on his parted lips; that tiny, seemingly innocent touch searing him to his very soul. But there was nothing innocent about Delilah. Not when it came to the two of them together. She knew just how her touch affected him. And he knew he had the same effect on her.

She lifted her gaze to his once more. “You know we want each other.”

His entire body went stiff. Especially his dick.

“You know I’ll do whatever you want, whenever you want,” she continued. “Wherever you want me.” Her voice was full of so much fucking promise that his mouth went dry. Never had she talked to him like this before.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he practically choked out. She couldn’t know what her words did to him. If she kept this up she’d tear down every one of his defenses and he’d finally give in.

He frowned. That didn’t sound like a bad idea.

“I know exactly what I’m saying.” She licked her lips, her lids growing heavy, reminding him of some sultry Hollywood seductress. “The ball is in your court. Your move, Lane.”

And with that she left, leaving behind a cloud of her intoxicating perfume.

Chapter Four

F
IVE DAYS
. I
T
had been five long days since Lane last saw Delilah. Since she’d dropped the bomb right into his lap and told him it was his move. She’d told him exactly what she wanted.

Him.

And he’d stayed away from her like a chickenshit. Just like last time, after the restaurant fire, when he’d found her safe and had been so overcome with relief and . . . something else, something he couldn’t put his finger on. Her hair had been a snarled mess, her dirty cheeks streaked with tears, but he’d held her close, buried his face in her smoke-scented hair, and held on tight. Like he never wanted to let her go.

In that moment, he hadn’t wanted to. Ever.

Just like at West and Harper’s condo five long nights ago. Those foreign emotions had tumbled around inside him like damp clothes in a dryer. Banging around vital organs—his bruised heart, in particular—reminding him that yes indeed, he did have one. And it seemed to beat for one woman in particular. Why, he wasn’t sure.

Okay fine, he knew why. She was beautiful, sweet, kind, smart, thoughtful, sexy as all fuck, hot-headed, impulsive, and had he mentioned sexy? Christ, he had it so damn bad. But they weren’t meant for each other. That was plain as day to him so why couldn’t she see it?

Staying away from her hadn’t been his original plan. That night, after he’d gotten home, he’d jerked off to thoughts of Delilah. Remembering those dark eyes of hers, full of promise as she studied him. Her seductive voice. When she’d touched his lips, the tips of her fingers making his mouth tingle. He’d almost kissed her and could admit he was almost glad he hadn’t.

Anticipation made his blood sing, his cock swell. It would be good between them. So damn good he wasn’t sure he’d survive it. That was half the problem. What if it was too good? What if once he had a taste, once he knew what it felt like to slip inside her warm, welcoming body, he’d never want anyone else? She’d have him completely under her spell and he’d probably never protest.

The mere thought alone sent his heart plummeting to his toes. Being with Delilah would never just be a casual thing. There was too much between them. She would turn what they had into more and he’d let her. He’d want it. But what if she didn’t want him? What if once she discovered what sort of man he really was, she jumped ship and ran? He wouldn’t blame her.

Hell, he was fairly certain that would happen no matter what. So he tried his best to keep her at arm’s length. He wasn’t going anywhere. Wildwood was his home and he wouldn’t leave, not like West had so long ago. But Lane wasn’t going to end up with Delilah either. They were stuck in the same small town. They’d just have to learn how to deal with each other and ignore all that tension.

His shift had ended over an hour ago and he was only just now pulling into the driveway of his house. Work had been extra busy since he last saw Delilah, and while yes, he could admit to himself that he was a chickenshit, he’d also been working twelve-plus-hour days. Summer was in full swing. Tourists had swarmed the area and they managed to do idiot things all hours of the day, keeping him and his fellow deputies constantly going.

The past weekend had been especially hard, what with the excessive drinking out on the lake that had ended in a slew of DUIs and belligerent behavior. As in fistfights. One deputy got coldcocked square in the nose, knocking him unconscious. He’d gone to the hospital that afternoon, and Lane had had to cover his shift.

Blowing out a heavy breath, Lane climbed out of his car and shuffled up to his front steps, bone weary and ready to collapse into bed. He had the next two days off and planned on sleeping for most of them, considering he needed to gear up for his next shift. The Fourth of July was almost upon them and that was Wildwood’s busiest weekend of the year.

He wasn’t looking forward to it.

The moment he slipped his key into the deadbolt, he heard a car stop in front of his house. Glancing over his shoulder, he groaned, half tempted to thunk his head against the doorframe.

It was freaking Wren.

Unlocking his door, he didn’t bother greeting her. Just left the door open as he walked inside, knowing full well she’d come in after him. He could hear her grumbling about his boorish behavior but he ignored her and made his way into the kitchen. He went straight for the fridge, where he pulled out the milk before going for a bowl from the cupboard and grabbing his favorite cereal from the pantry.

He was fucking starving. Had to get food into his belly before he took a shower and collapsed into bed.

“I swear as you get older, you get ruder,” Wren said when she entered the kitchen.

His answer was a noncommittal grunt as he poured cereal into the bowl. Maybe she was right. But at the moment, he sort of didn’t give a shit.

“Have you been in hiding or what?”

Lane poured the milk and grabbed a spoon, sinking it into the almost too-full bowl before he turned to face his annoying little sister. “I’ve been working my ass off,” he said and shoveled a giant spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

She rested her hands on her hips, tilting her head to the side. “You look tired.”

“So observant,” he muttered, his mouth still full.

An irritated huff escaped from her pursed lips. “What’s your deal?”

“The last few days have been rough.” It was more than that, not that he could tell his sister. He was sexually frustrated. Irritated that he hadn’t grabbed hold of the opportunity Delilah gave him and gotten naked with her that night. Lots of regret over that missed opportunity.

He’d had plenty of time to think about her though, in between the numerous calls he went on and when he couldn’t sleep after getting off work. He realized quickly that he’d let her slip right through his fingers. What the hell was wrong with messing around with her anyway? If he told her up front what he expected, then they should be golden. Honesty was the best policy. He’d always believed that. Even when his dad proved again and again that he didn’t, what with the way he’d lied to their mom—to all of them really—time and again.

“Extra busy?” Wren asked, breaking through his murky thoughts.

“Yeah.” He shoveled more cereal into his mouth, more than ready to shut off his brain. He was wiped out. Didn’t want to worry about Delilah or work or anything else. He just wanted sleep.

“Oh. Well, I’ll leave you alone, but I wanted to talk to you about something first.” Wren moved toward his tiny kitchen table and sat down. “It’s . . . Mom.”

He paused in his chewing, swallowing hard. “What about Mom?”

Wren lifted her gaze to his, her eyes full of worry. “I think she’s sick. Sleeping all the time, loss of appetite, and losing weight without even trying.”

That didn’t sound like his mother. “Has she been to the doctor? And has she complained to you?”

“Not really. She brushes me off when I ask if anything’s wrong. I didn’t even realize this was going on until Holden told me.”

Holden. Lane could’ve figured that their baby brother would be the one to notice considering he still spent a lot of time at their childhood home. Despite practically living with his girlfriend, Kirsten, Holden was still very much a mama’s boy. And he had no problem admitting it either.

“What did Holden say?”

“He called me last week worried about her. Wanted to know if I could somehow convince her that she needed to see a doctor. He thinks we have a lot in common since we both have vaginas.” Wren rolled her eyes.

Lane was glad he had nothing in his mouth at that moment because he would’ve spit milk-soaked cereal all over the floor. Real mature of him, he knew. “Did he literally say that?”

“No, but he implied it. I took her to breakfast a few days ago and talked to her, but she ignored my questions. Then I tried to talk to her about it again yesterday and she blew me off. Said I worried too much and that she was feeling fine.” Wren hesitated, looking concerned. “I don’t believe she’s feeling fine. Something’s up. I think she’s hiding something.”

“But what?” He set the bowl on the kitchen counter, his appetite forgotten. “What could she be hiding?”

“I don’t know if
hiding
is the right word. More like . . . she’s in denial? Like she won’t acknowledge that she’s not feeling well. That if she can pretend everything’s okay, everything will be okay.” Another hesitation from Wren, this one a little longer. “Sort of how she behaved when she and dad had all their trouble.”

Right. When their father had cheated on their mother and she’d pretended that it never happened. Shit had eventually hit the fan and their parents had suffered through some rocky times, but she’d stood by her husband. They’d all encouraged her to leave their dad at one time or another, with the exception of Holden.

His name was fitting; he was always encouraging everyone to hold out just a little bit longer.

“I was hoping I could convince you to talk to Mom. Like, physically go over to the house and see her.” Wren’s expression turned grave. “You need to see her, Lane. She looks miserable. Dark circles under her eyes, her clothes hanging off her, and she seems . . . lost. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Maybe she’s just stressed out,” Lane started but Wren shook her head, making him clamp his lips shut.

“It’s not stress. There’s something more. I just can’t put my finger on it. Please go see her. I know you’re off for the next few days.”

Wren was probably overreacting as she was known to do, but he’d go see Mom just to placate her. “I’ll call her later this afternoon and ask if I can come over.”

“You shouldn’t even warn her,” Wren said as she rose to her feet. “Just . . . stop by. Catch her so she’s not prepared for your visit. So you can see her in her most natural state.”

“You make her sound like an animal at a zoo. ‘Observe the mother in her most natural habitat,’ ” Lane joked, his smile dying when he saw the glassy sheen to his sister’s eyes.

“I’m serious, Lane. Something’s wrong with her. You’ll know what I’m talking about when you see her.” She sniffed and shook her head, pasting a phony smile on her face. “I should go. Let you go catch up on your sleep or whatever it is you do when you’re off for a few days. You’ll call me after you go see her?”

“Yeah. I’ll call you.” He walked Wren to the front door, locking it firmly once she left. He ran a hand through his hair as he made his way to the bathroom and took a quick shower. Tossed and turned as he lay in bed twenty minutes later, unable to get Wren’s words out of his mind.

Their mother was the glue that kept the Gallagher family together. If something was wrong with her . . .

He didn’t know what they’d do.

“I
DON
’
T KNOW
how you do that,” Wren muttered when Delilah plopped down in the chair behind her desk that sat opposite Wren’s.

Delilah wiped her sweaty face with a towel she kept expressly for that purpose. “How I do what?”

“Dance like that. I’d collapse within the first five minutes.” Wren shook her head when Delilah laughed. “I’m serious. You keep up with those teenagers like it’s no big deal. You dance circles around them.”

“It’s my favorite class. Hands down.”

When she’d added the hip-hop class to the studio schedule, the response had been overwhelmingly positive. She’d had so many students sign up, she’d ended up dividing the girls by skill and age. Now she led three hip-hop classes every week, and they were by far the best exercise she received out of all the classes she gave.

With more dancers taking classes and becoming more skilled came more possibilities. She’d been contemplating creating a competition team for a while now, and she planned on putting a small one together before school started.

“Well, you’re really good at it.” Wren shot her a look. “But you’re covered in sweat.”

“Good for the soul.” Delilah wiped her face again. “What are you doing here so late anyway?” Some of the girls from her hip-hop three class were still in the studio, but the minute they were gone, Delilah planned on locking up and going home. Wren rarely stayed this late.

“I didn’t want to go home.” Wren shrugged. “I have a lot on my mind.”

Uh-oh.
“What’s going on?” At the wariness that crossed Wren’s face, Delilah immediately asked, “Or would you rather not talk about it?”

“No, I definitely want to talk about it. I just hope I’m making a big deal out of nothing.” Wren inhaled deeply, letting her breath out between pursed lips. “It’s my mom. I think she’s . . . sick, but she’s acting like nothing’s wrong.”

Wren proceeded to explain the situation, how her mother didn’t look well and wasn’t behaving right. “I finally stopped by Lane’s house earlier to ask him if he’d go talk to Mom, and he promised he would.”

Delilah sat up straighter at the mention of his name. She’d thrown herself into working at the studio this week on purpose so she wouldn’t think of Lane. And how he hadn’t contacted her, not once, since she last saw him at West and Harper’s place.

She’d figured Lane would at least stop by the studio while he was on patrol, like he usually did. But he hadn’t even done that. Was he running scared like usual? Was this the big sign that she needed to finally give up?

“You know he doesn’t like going over to Mom and Dad’s by himself. He does much better when we’re all there,” Wren continued. “I hope he wasn’t just saying that to get rid of me. He looked pretty ragged.”

“He would never lie to you. If you asked for his help, he’ll give it,” Delilah said. Still, worry filled her and she told herself to knock it off. “And what do you mean he looked ragged?”

Wren waved a dismissive hand. “He said he’d had a tough couple of days. He looked totally worn out. You know how busy it gets this time of year.”

The tourist season was in full swing and the locals suffered through it. Everywhere you went was packed with tourists: the streets, the stores, the lake, and all of the campsites that surrounded it. Forget trying to find a table at any restaurant during typical mealtimes. And Harper had just complained to her yesterday that the Bigfoot Diner was the busiest she’d ever seen it.