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Authors: Karen Erickson

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BOOK: Torch: The Wildwood Series
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She scurried out of his bedroom before she could say or do something stupid.

Like tackle him to the ground.

Chapter Eleven

T
HEY STARTED OUT
the afternoon running a few mundane errands—she needed to go to the post office to temporarily forward her personal mail to the dance studio, and Tate wanted to stop by the hardware store for a few things. They joked around and he helped take her mind off the disaster that had become her life. He was sweet and kind, and she wondered at first if he had an ulterior motive until she finally realized he was just . . .

Being himself.

It was dangerous, hanging out with Tate, running errands like they were a real couple and living a life—together. They so weren’t. Yes, they were attracted to each other and might end up messing around with each other, but come on. They hadn’t even kissed yet. What was he waiting for?

What are
you
waiting for?

“Where are we going next?” she asked after they got back into his SUV.

He flashed a secretive smile in her direction before returning his attention to the road. “The lake.”

She gaped at him. “The lake? Why?”

“First, it’s hot as hell today, and I wanted to cool off. Second, you need to do something fun to take your mind off the shit you went through lately. And third, I want to see you in a bikini.” His grin was wicked when he said that last bit.

“But I don’t have a bikini,” she said, her head spinning. He wanted to see her in a bikini? Of course he did. He’d had his hands all over her this morning before, like an idiot, she’d leapt out of his bed and ran away like a chicken. Something would’ve happened. Something momentous that she’d been too scared to face.

But Tate acted like it never occurred. He’d been easygoing the entire day, never bringing up their extremely close and potentially awkward moment in bed earlier.

Now she sort of wanted to talk about it. Or explore it further.

Okay, fine, she totally wanted to explore it further.

“I have one for you.”

She stared at him. “You have a bikini for me?”

He nodded.

“Where’d you get it?”

“I bought it.” He shrugged, sending her another quick look. “When you were at the post office? I went to that little clothing store next door.”

Oh. God. She shopped there often. Did he know her size? What if it didn’t fit? What if it exposed too much skin? What if—

“Stop worrying. You’re going to look great, and you’ll have fun. I promise. We’ll hang out at the beach and swim for a little while, and then we’ll go grab lunch,” he said, his words shutting off her overactive brain.

Well, not quite. She still couldn’t stop wondering why he would’ve bought her a bikini. Or how she might look in it. Or that she’d feel exposed in front of him, and she didn’t want to do that. He made her feel exposed enough when she was fully clothed.

In all honesty, he made her feel lots of things she didn’t understand, and that left her confused. Always with a look or a joke or a smile, he seemed so at ease around her. So nice. And she’d been nothing but awful, like some sort of weird defense mechanism to push him away.

Instead here they were. Together. Not
together
together, but still. She was staying at his house. He bought her a bikini. He’d wrapped himself around her in his bed while she slept there wearing only his T-shirt.

Everything had just turned . . . frighteningly weird between them. In a good way.

In a very, very good, very, very confusing way.

She didn’t want to like him. She didn’t. So . . . why did she? Because she was in a vulnerable place and he was being so kind?

Her mouth curved into a frown, and she averted her head, staring out the window and watching the world pass by. She hoped he didn’t pity her. That he was being so nice only because she had nowhere else to go, which wasn’t necessarily true. She had plenty of friends who’d take her in. She could go back and live with her parents.

Her frown deepened. No. Not her parents. That would be the worst.

He pulled into the lake’s day-use parking lot a few minutes later, handing over a shopping bag that didn’t have much in it after he shut off the engine. She took it with a hasty thank-you and ran to the bathroom to change in one of the shower stalls. Pulling the bikini out of the bag, she admired the pretty, brightly colored floral pattern and was grateful it wasn’t made out of string.

Once she got the swimsuit on—oh my God, was she thankful she shaved and recently had a wax—she glanced in the mirror and realized it fit her perfectly. And that Tate had included a cute black cover-up dress she could toss on over the bikini.

He thought of everything.

She exited the bathroom to find Tate waiting for her outside, sunglasses covering his eyes, wearing a pair of tropical print board shorts and nothing else, a bag at his feet stuffed with a couple of beach towels. She tried her best not to stare at his chest, but . . .

She stared at his chest. Gaped at him, really.

Grinning, he grabbed the bag’s handles and slung it over his shoulder. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” She snapped her lips shut to keep from drooling. “Thank you for the bikini. And the cover-up. What do I owe you?”

He shook his head and started walking to the lake. She fell into step beside him. “You don’t owe me anything. It’s a gift.”

“But you’ve already done so much,” she started to protest but he shut her up with a look.

Oh, and with the way he grabbed her hand and interlaced their fingers together. “Stop. Just take it graciously, and say,
Thank you, Tate
.”

“Thank you, Tate,” Wren said, her voice soft, her fingers tingling from his touch.

She could get used to this sort of treatment.

And that was a scary thought.

T
ATE TRIED NOT
to stare. Really, he did. He was doing his best to be a proper gentleman and be respectful, but damn, it proved hard when Wren tugged the cover-up off over her head and exposed her glorious body. He’d checked her out before, of course.

But this time it was just the two of them alone at the lake, Wren wearing a bikini he bought for her and looking hot as fuck.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. Kept it over his mouth for a few seconds so he wouldn’t say something stupid, like,
Fuck me standing, you’re gorgeous.
Or,
Hey let’s forget all this foreplay bullshit and go back to my place.
Worse, he was tempted to say something desperate and lame, like,
Can I just touch you? Please?

Yeah. None of that would go over real well. Not with Wren. He felt cautious around her. Like with every progressive step they made, they ended up taking a few steps back. All because he said or did something stupid.

“You coming in?” she called from over her shoulder.

Tate glanced up to watch her head toward the water, her hips swaying gently, her perfect ass barely covered by the bikini bottom. He tore his gaze from her ass because staring at it too long could cause problems. Like, a-tent-in-the-front-of-his-board-shorts problems.

Jesus. He really needed to get a grip.

He followed after her without a word, the cool water splashing around his legs not doing much to cool his heated libido. She’d already dived smoothly into the water, submersing herself completely before popping back up less than a minute later. She smoothed her hair away from her face, water droplets clinging to her eyelashes as she blinked at him, a little smile curving her lips. “This was a good idea.”

“I’m glad you approve,” he said before he dunked under the water. She said something else, but he couldn’t make it out, her words muffled by the water. He stayed under for a while, opening his eyes to see her legs churning, the bright red nail polish on her toes. He noticed everything about her, every little detail, and it was starting to make him realize something.

He had a . . . thing for her. A thing that wasn’t going away anytime soon. And he wanted to know if she could possibly have a thing for him too. Could she? Could she let down her walls and let him in? Not fight him every step of the way? Most of the time he didn’t even know what they were arguing about. He was over it.

But he definitely wasn’t over Wren.

“Are you part merman or what?” she asked when his head emerged from the water. She scowled at him, like she was pissed, and his defenses automatically went up.

Damn it, he didn’t want to spend today like this.

“Why do you say that?” he asked as he slowly swam closer to her. He didn’t want to startle her, but he was this close to hauling her into his arms and shutting her up. Kissing sounded like a lot more fun than arguing.

“You were underwater for so long. I, um, got worried.” She shrugged one bare shoulder, the water slipping over her skin, and he discovered it was possible to be jealous of water.

Unbelievable.

“You worried about me, Dove?” He treaded water right in front of her, wishing they weren’t so deep. He’d rather be standing when he kissed her, but he could make do if needed. “I’m touched.”

“You should be. The last thing I need is you drowning on my watch.” A smile teased the corners of her perfect lips, and relief hit him hard and swift, nearly taking his breath.

Good. She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t going to put up a fight. This was going to be a good afternoon. A progressive afternoon. That’s what he wanted. What she needed.

“On your watch, huh?” He raised a brow, reaching out and streaking his fingers across her shoulder. She jumped a little, moving away from him, but he just followed. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one taking care of you?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, but right now, you’re on my watch.” He grinned when she frowned. “Come on, Wren. Throw me a bone here. I’m the big bad firefighter who’s come to your rescue. Let me live my fantasy, if just for a little bit.”

She laughed, the joyous sound ringing through the air. The lake wasn’t too busy. It was a weekday, and not many people came to this beach since it was mostly frequented by the Wildwood locals. They were pretty much alone, with the occasional boat or Jet Skier passing by.

“You have a hero complex?” she teased.

He scoffed. “Of course I do. Why do you think I work this job?”

Her laughter grew. “I figured you tried to drive women crazy in your uniform.”

“Do I drive you crazy when I wear my uniform?”

The laughter died. Her expression grew serious. “You drive me crazy when you wear just the board shorts.”

His mouth went dry.

“Or when you sneak into your bed and I’m already in it.”

His entire body went stiff.

She shook her head, the movement making the water ripple around her. “I should’ve never admitted that.”

“I’m fucking thrilled you just admitted that.” He moved toward her, stealth-like and smooth in the water, until he was directly in front of her. He stretched his legs downward, testing where the bottom might be, and was relieved when he actually touched the slightly slimy ground. “I thought I only drove you crazy when I opened my mouth.”

A surprised burst of laughter shot from her lips. “You always have your mouth open.”

“I know.” He smiled. “I could never figure out what I did wrong.”

“Did it matter to you that much?”

“It mattered, Dove. You mattered. Your opinion of me.”

She looked adorably confused. “Why?”

“Because I like you. And I think you like me too.” He reached for her. Slipped his arms around her waist and tugged her in. She didn’t fight, didn’t protest, just went willingly, her hands automatically going to his chest, her fingers sliding across his skin and sending a scattering of hot sparks through his blood.

“I don’t really like you,” she said, the words feeling like an automatic response.

“I don’t believe you.” He slipped his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face up. “Be truthful with me.”

She blinked up at him, little droplets of water clinging to her cheeks, and he wiped them away, his thumb lingering on her soft, soft skin. “I don’t know what’s happening,” she whispered.

“Me either.”

“You scare me.”

His thumb went still. “In a bad way?”

“No.” She shook her head. “In a confused, sexually frustrated way.”

It was his turn to laugh. “I think that’s a good thing.”

“You do?” Her brows scrunched, and he traced the curve of her cheek, the point of her chin.

Tate nodded. “The best possible thing,” he murmured just before he leaned in and kissed her. The softest, gentlest kiss. Nothing too pushy, though he wanted to push. He wanted to plunder and taste and conquer and bite and lick.

Instead he pulled away, his smile growing at the dazed look on her pretty damp face. “You want to race?” he asked.

He’d confused her now. “What?”

“Let’s race to the floating dock and back.” He nodded toward said floating dock, which all the teenagers crowded onto during the weekends. “Loser buys the winner dinner.”

She sent him a shrewd look, one full of mysterious, unsaid things. “You’re challenging me to a race?”

He nodded.

“The girl who grew up with three of the most competitive brothers in all of Wildwood.”

Uh-oh. “Yeah,” he said, the uncertainty in his voice distinct.

She grinned. Out and out grinned and thrust her fist into the air. “I’ve got this. On three?”

“Sure thing,” he said and, with a deep breath, started to count.

Wren was gone by the time three slipped past his lips. And she never looked back either. He launched after her, swimming as fast as he could, but he could never catch up to her.

He sincerely hoped that wouldn’t be a regular thing.

Chapter Twelve

“A
RE YOU HUNGRY
?”

Tate’s deep voice penetrated her thoughts, and she glanced up, flashing him a small smile. “Starved.”

They were back in his SUV after spending a few hours at the lake. Swimming. Lounging on the beach stretched out on the giant towels. Sending secret smiles at each other before they launched into some ridiculous conversation about life or politics or whether Harper and West should elope or not. Always in the back of her mind was that kiss. That one simple yet staggering kiss had seared her from the inside out.

Oh, and left her wanting more, though he hadn’t delivered. Damn him.

“Let’s go to the BFD for a burger.” He sent her a look. “If you’re okay with that.”

Her smile was smug, considering she won the first swimming race. And the second. The man was a good swimmer, but she was better, after being trained by her brothers her entire life.

“I’m fine with that. You’re paying after all.” He shook his head and muttered something under his breath, which only made her laugh. And he smiled too, though it was more of a smirk. A cute smirk. He was a little sunburned, his cheeks and nose red, his hair a mess and sticking up everywhere, and wow, she never thought she’d seen him look better.

She sat up straighter when she realized she was staring, but he didn’t notice. He was too busy concentrating on driving, which was a good thing. A very good thing. If she’d been driving she probably would’ve wrecked the car, and the reason would’ve been so incredibly lame.

Oh, sorry, Lane
—because it would definitely be her brother who came upon the accident scene first—
I was too entranced with Tate’s male beauty, and I crashed the car.

Yeah. Lame. So lame.

“I had no idea you were such a good swimmer,” Tate said, his gaze still fixed on the road.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me.” She sounded flirtatious. The entire afternoon had felt like foreplay. Fun, yummy, sort of sexual but sort of not sexual foreplay. What would happen when they returned to his place? She already felt like she was lit from within. One look from Tate and he sent her into a slow burn. If he touched her again—or even better, kissed her again—she’d probably combust.

“True,” he said, his voice low and rumbly. It sent her nerve endings into a quiver. “Though I’d like to find all of those things out.”

If she could get away with fanning herself, she would. But she restrained her hands beneath her legs and pretended what he just said hadn’t set her on fire.

Lord help her, she was in deep, deep trouble.

They pulled into the BFD parking lot and nerves flapped in her stomach like giant bats. She might run into Harper while they were there, but she could handle it. Right? Harper would most likely make suggestive comments and pull her aside to gush that they made a cute couple, but Wren would just blow her off. Or at least, she should blow her off.

Because whatever they were doing was temporary. He’d helped her forget about the fire and what she lost, but it all came roaring back in this very moment. Heck, she was half-inclined to pack up what little she owned in the world and move somewhere else just because she could. She had no obligations, nothing tying her down besides her various accounting jobs. But she would give enough notice so everyone had time to replace her. Some of the work she could do from anywhere, meaning she wouldn’t have to quit at all. She could just . . .

Be somewhere else.

“Finally.” He shifted the car into Park and cut the engine, turning to smile at her. He reached over, touching her cheek, his fingers drifting across her skin, and she pressed her lips together to prevent him from seeing them tremble. “I’ve had a good time with you today.”

His touch rendered her speechless. All she could do was nod.

“Hope to have a good time with you tonight too.” His eyes grew dark, and her mouth grew dry.

Temporary.
No matter how much fun they were having and how much she was growing to like him—
really
like him—she needed to remind herself of that.

Frequently.

T
HE MOMENT THEY
walked into the restaurant, Wren knew something was up. She could feel it in the air. A sort of electricity that crackled and hummed, though she couldn’t place it. Harper’s eyes went wide when she caught sight of them, and she rushed over, a fake smile plastered on her face as she steered them toward the doors that led outside to the patio.

“I don’t want to eat outside,” Wren protested with a shake of her head.

“It’s such a nice evening though.” The pleading look Harper sent her couldn’t be mistaken.

“It’s still over one hundred degrees outside,” Tate pointed out gently, tipping his head toward the many empty tables in the diner. “We’d rather sit in here. Right, Wren?”

“Definitely,” Wren said, surprised that he actually called her by her name. Though he had been all afternoon, throwing in the occasional Dove to balance it out. She didn’t mind anymore. Not really.

“I’m going to use the restroom,” Tate said to Wren, offering her a gentle smile that she felt all the way down to her toes. “I’ll be right back.”

The moment he walked away, Harper turned toward Wren, her expression serious, her voice hushed. “You need to get out of here.”

“Wait. What?” What was Harper’s problem? “Are you refusing to serve us? What the hell, Harp?”

Harper grabbed hold of Wren’s arm and pulled her closer to the front of the restaurant where no one else was around. “Someone’s here, and I don’t want you to see them.”

“See who?” Curiosity made her try to look around Harper to see whom she could be talking about.

“Stop looking around! God, you’re so obvious.” Harper blew out a frustrated breath. “Fine, it’s Levi.”

Wren went completely still. “Levi? My Levi?” She hadn’t referred to him like that in forever. She hadn’t thought of him as hers in years. Yet here she was, first mention of him and falling back into old habits. He’d been her Levi once upon a time.

Until he wasn’t.

“Yes. He came in a few minutes ago with his parents.” Harper sent her a pointed look. “I’m sure you don’t want to run into him while you’re with Tate.”

“I don’t mind.” The thought actually filled her with excitement. She could show Levi she’d moved on, right? Tate was gorgeous. Even Levi would have to acknowledge that. To look like she was involved with Tate would put on quite the I’m-so-over-you show for Levi. He’d get the message loud and clear.

And she
was
over Levi. She had been for years. Yes, he’d broken her heart in high school. Yes, she never talked about him. Like, ever. But there was a reason for that. She didn’t like to latch on to the past. It did her no favors and usually ended up hurting her more than anything else. She couldn’t even remember the last time she saw Levi in the flesh—fine, she’d stalked his Facebook profile a long time ago—so what was the big deal?

“You should mind.” Harper leaned in and murmured, “He asked about you.”

Her heart started to race. “Really?” She cleared her throat to get rid of the squeak. The pointed look Harper sent her wasn’t helping matters. “What did he say?”

“He asked if you still lived here, and I said of course.” Harper raised her brows. “Then he said he’d love to see you while he was visiting.”

“How long is he visiting?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really care. And neither should you.” Harper grabbed Wren’s arm again and gave it a little shake. “Don’t forget what he did to you.”

“That happened years ago.” Wren carefully pulled her arm out of Harper’s grip. “I’m over it. You know me. I don’t hold grudges.”

“When it comes to Levi, maybe you should,” Harper muttered.

“I’m not going to hide from him. Just . . . seat us, and if we happen to see each other, then so be it. If not, no biggie. I’ll be fine,” Wren said.

With a put-upon sigh, Harper led Wren over to a table. “He’s on the other side of the restaurant. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Harper said snippily before she strode away.

Wren kept her head bent, flipping open the menu even though she already knew what she would order. She was so tempted to glance over her shoulder, scan the room in search of Levi, but she didn’t want him to catch her looking.

So stupid.

Tate slid into the booth within minutes, oblivious to everything that just happened. “Already know what you want to order?”

She closed the menu and lifted her head to smile at him. “Always.”

“Good. Me too.” The waitress chose that moment to appear by their table, taking their drink and food orders before she snatched up the menus and walked away.

“She usually flirts with me,” Tate said once the waitress was gone. “I guess bringing you here just blew any chance I might’ve had with her.” When her smile faded, so did his. “I was kidding. Seriously.”

His words, the way he looked at her, sent a shiver down a spine. “Okay,” Wren said slowly, though he was probably right. All the women of Wildwood seemed to trip over themselves whenever they were in Tate’s presence. Young or old, single or attached. “I think pretty much every woman in this town would give you a second chance. Or a third. Or a fourth . . . ”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Dove.” He took a packet of sugar out of the container and started to play with it, batting it back and forth across the table between his hands. “Would you ever consider giving me a second chance?”

He almost sounded nervous asking the question. She couldn’t help but find that sweet. “I’m pretty sure I’ve never even given you a real chance yet,” she teased, her voice soft. Though she vaguely remembered saying he’d blown his chance with her before . . .

“Would you? Give me a chance?” He lifted his head, aiming that piercing green gaze right at her, and she blinked, stunned at his words, her heart picking up speed when he said nothing else.

“Are you asking for one?”

Tate smiled and reached across the table, taking her hand in his and entwining their fingers. She shivered at his touch, not even caring if anyone saw the two of them holding hands in the middle of the BFD. She sort of didn’t want this moment to end. The entire day had been magical thanks to Tate. “When it comes to you, I’d ask for just about anything.”

Wren parted her lips, ready to answer, to tease him a little more, to tell him they should forget the stupid burgers and go back to his place, when a familiar male voice called her name. Her heart in her throat, she slowly turned her head to find Levi Hamilton standing in front of their table.

Oh, crap.

Looking better than ever.

T
HE DUDE WAS
staring at Wren like he had stars in his eyes. Worse, like he was the luckiest damn bastard in the entire universe because he just discovered her. As if she were some sort of foreign land he’d been in search of and dying to conquer for his entire life.

Tate knew that look. Had been experiencing the many confusing emotions behind it for weeks, quietly desperate to claim Wren-land for himself.

“Levi,” she breathed, her voice . . . changing. She never talked to Tate like that, all breathless and light, her tone full of nostalgia and fond memories. “It’s—good to see you.”

Wren pulled her hand from his and slid out of the booth without any prompting, stepping into the stranger’s arms. He was around their age, maybe a little older than Wren but probably younger than Tate, with golden-brown hair cropped close on the sides and longish on top and wearing a pale blue polo shirt and khaki shorts, not one fucking wrinkle in sight.

The asshole could’ve walked straight out of a Ralph Lauren ad. Tate hated him on sight.

Levi squeezed her tight, his eyes closing for the briefest moment before he released his hold on her. Tate could only sit there gaping at the two of them, trying his best to fight the jealousy churning in his gut.

“How are you?” Levi asked as she slowly pulled away from him, his hands still clinging to her arms. His smile was huge, his eyes only for Wren. “You look amazing. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen you, Wrennie.”

Wrennie?
What the fuck? Who was this guy?

“I’m great. Well, sort of.” She laughed, waved her hands around as if she didn’t know what to do with them. Adorably awkward with her flushed cheeks and helpless expression. “I don’t know if you heard . . . ”

“Your house burned down.” Levi’s expression went solemn, and he reached out to clasp her hand, entwining their fingers. “My parents told me. That’s so . . . awful. I’m sorry that happened to you. What are you going to do? Where are you living?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got it all figured out.” She sounded like a liar, even to Tate. She had nothing figured out. Tate knew she was still completely overwhelmed by all that she needed to take care of.

“I do worry about you. I think about you all the time.” His gaze briefly flickered to Tate before returning to Wren, completely dismissing him. “I still like to think of me being the guy who was always there for you.”

She laughed, the sound nervous and just the slightest bit . . . irritated? “Right. I figured you forgot all about me once you left town.”

“Never.” The gentle smile Levi offered Wren made Tate’s blood boil.

Anger surged within him. Who was this asshole to tell Wren he’d be there for her? Tate was the one who’d been there for her from the very start. She lived with him. Not this guy who appeared out of nowhere and got to hug her too close and stare at her like he wanted to devour her whole.

Fuck this guy and his supposed good intentions.

Tate was about to stand and tell the guy to fuck off when Wren pulled her hand from Levi’s, turning to look at Tate, a nervous smile on her face. “Levi, this is my friend, Tate.”

Friend. Nice one, Wrennie.

“Nice to meet you.” Tate rose to his feet, noting that he towered over the guy. Good. He thrust out his hand and squeezed Levi’s extra hard.

“Likewise.” Levi sized him up with a glance, dismissing him when they released hands, and Tate sat back down, his attention all for Wren. Again. “We need to get together before I leave.”

“How long are you here for?” she asked as she settled back into the booth across from Tate. Thank Christ. Tate was afraid she might’ve left with this asshole.

BOOK: Torch: The Wildwood Series
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