Torch: The Wildwood Series (16 page)

“I’m thrilled that you’ve found so much success, Levi. I’m sure someday soon you’ll find a special woman to share it with,” she murmured close to his ear.

“Thanks, Wren.” He squeezed her before he let her go and stepped away. “Take care, okay?”

“You too. Are you headed back to San Francisco now?”

“Yeah, wanted to leave tonight. Need to get back to work in the morning.” The answer and his sheepish smile revealed what she’d suspected. Her ex was a complete workaholic. He would probably make a girl extremely happy someday, but right now, he was devoted to his job. “Let’s keep in touch?”

“Let’s make sure you have the right phone number for me first,” she suggested.

They discovered the number he entered for her was off by one digit, and they got a good laugh out of it before he left town for good. She watched his car disappear down the street and then turned her attention to Lane. He was leaning against his car, tapping away on his phone.

“You’re not off the hook,” she told him.

He glanced up from his phone with a grimace. “I did nothing wrong, Wren. More like I was in the right place at the right time.”

“Whatever. I’m eating my dinner, and you’re going to explain to me exactly what’s going on,” she told him as she started for the front door.

“I gotta get home,” he protested, but she silently glared at him, earning a muttered—and reluctant—
all right
as he followed her to the front door.

She was determined to get to the bottom of Lane’s odd behavior before the night was over.

Chapter Eighteen

W
REN GAPED AT
her brother, trying her best to come up with something to say but failing miserably. What he was telling her was unbelievable.

Oh, and maddening—completely and totally infuriating, really.

She was sitting at Tate’s tiny kitchen table with her oldest brother, trying to eat her dinner while listening to Lane explain the craziest story she’d ever heard. Why would someone be after her? What had she ever done to anyone? Absolutely nothing.

That’s why what Lane said made no sense.

“Tate and Josh wanted to tell you right away,” Lane said after he informed her that the reason her house burned down was because of the Wildwood arsonist—and they believed she might’ve been specifically targeted. “But West and I thought it best if we kept you out of it for a little while. See if we could finally nab the arsonist first before you had to get—involved.”

Swallowing hard, she finally found her voice. “So you believed it was . . . what? In my best interests I was kept in the dark about some nut job who burned down my house and, oh, I don’t know, might still be after me? That sounded like a good idea to you and West, the overlords of my life? Really?”

Lane winced. “When you put it like that . . . ”

“You’re an asshole,” she said, interrupting him. She slapped the edge of the table, hurting her fingers in the process.
Great.
“And so is West. Did you two really think I wouldn’t be able to handle it? Like I’m some delicate flower who’d freak out if she knew a big, bad, scary man burned her house down on purpose?”

“We only just confirmed that,” he rushed to add.

“Whatever.” She wrapped up her half-eaten cheeseburger and stuffed it back into the bag. She’d lost her appetite over this conversation. She was too mad to eat. Her brothers were so damn controlling. They always had been, and it made her furious.

And deep down, it hurt. Did they really believe she couldn’t take care of herself? Had she made such bad choices throughout her life that they had no faith in her? Yeah, she’d messed up a time or two when she was a teen, but nothing major. It had been a stage. She usually played it safe—to the point it might have made her life a little boring sometimes. But she’d always believed boring was better than scary.

This summer, though, had been the most exciting one she’d had in a long time. Yeah, the fire was a dark moment, but it had brought her something good. It forced her to get closer to Tate. She didn’t regret that for a moment.

“We only wanted to protect you.” Lane reached out and touched her arm, but she pulled away from his grasp. He scowled at her. “We thought we were doing what was best.”

“For you or for me?” she snipped.

“You. Always you. The thought of some creep burning down your house on purpose.” Lane’s mouth set in a firm line. “Hell, Wren, it’s freaking spooky.” He shook his head, his expression menacing. “I should’ve never let Levi go. He could’ve been the one who burned your house down.”

Lane was totally reaching. “Give me a break. He was only home for a few days. Are you saying he traveled back and forth between here and San Francisco throughout the summer just to burn Wildwood down? Why would he even do that?”

“I don’t know. He’s pissed at the town in general?” Lane shrugged. “He never did like this place much.”

“Neither did West. Maybe he’s the arsonist.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Lane muttered.

“No,
you’re
being ridiculous, what with your overbearing protectiveness and sense of what’s right and wrong.” She paused, hoping he understood just how hurt and upset she was over this. “You should’ve never kept it from me, Lane. You and West don’t get to make decisions that affect my life in such a big way, you know. I’m my own person. I can take care of myself.”

“We can take care of you too.”

“And I appreciate that. I do. But sometimes you two are so overbearing. I don’t know how Tate will put up with you two jerks considering we’re now . . . ” She paused, frowning. Considering they were now . . . what? In a relationship? That sounded too serious. Fucking around? That sounded too casual, and no way could she use those particular words with Lane. He’d flip.

“Considering you’re what with Tate?” Lane’s eyes narrowed as he watched her.

She sighed and waved a dismissive hand, trying not to make too big a deal out of this. “We’re sort of—seeing each other?” There. That worked.

“Uh-huh.” Lane nodded, his expression still grim. “I thought that might be the case, especially with the way Tate talked to me yesterday.”

Curiosity had her frowning. “What exactly did you two talk about?”

His expression immediately turned guilty. “The house fire and how it was set by the arsonist.”

Her head started to spin. Tate knew about it too? Wait, her brother had mentioned he knew. So why didn’t Tate tell her? Was he supposedly trying to protect her as well? God, he was just like them. “So Tate knew that the fire was started by the arsonist too?”

“Um, well . . . yeah.” Lane shrugged, looking caught, just like the rat he was. More like there were three rats involved in this crazy secret-keeping scheme. Her two older brothers and much to her disappointment . . .

Tate.

“He wanted to tell you,” Lane added. “But we wouldn’t let him.”

Wren said nothing. Tate was a grown-ass man, yet he couldn’t work up the nerve to go against her brothers’ wishes and tell her the truth? Whose side was he on anyway?

Clearly, her brothers’.

“You should go.” Wren stood and gathered up the garbage from her dinner, tossing it into the trash. She went to the kitchen sink and washed her hands, keeping her back to Lane. She didn’t want to look at him anymore.

She wanted him gone.

“Come on, Wren. You can’t be too upset. We were just watching out for you,” Lane said, his tone pleading. He didn’t like it when she was mad at him. Much like she didn’t like it when he was mad at her. They’d always had a close relationship, even when they were kids and she followed him everywhere, driving him crazy. She always figured he secretly liked her obvious adulation for her big brother.

But right now, she wanted to kick her big brother’s ass. It didn’t matter that he could probably snap her in two. Lane was so big and broad and downright menacing when he wanted to be. She was so pissed she was tempted to give it a go, knowing he would never stop her.

Punching him would probably end with her hurting her hands. If she tried to kick him, she’d probably miss or, worse, injure herself. The man was a powerhouse.

She, on the other hand, ate doughnuts for breakfast and cheeseburgers for dinner.

“I want you to leave.” She turned away from the sink and folded her arms in front of her chest, staring her brother down. “I want to be alone.”

“Aw, come on, Wren,” he started as he stood, but she shook her head.

“No. Don’t try to wear me down or tell me I’m being silly. I’m mad, Lane. You and West—and Tate—must really think I’m stupid, that I can’t handle this.” It hurt to include Tate in that short list. She was furious with her brothers—West should consider himself lucky he wasn’t here—but she was devastated by Tate’s decision to keep this from her. Yes, he had a job to do, and some things would always need to be kept quiet.

But this involved her. She thought she meant enough to Tate that he would treat her with respect and let her know when—
hello
—her life was in danger.

She guessed she was wrong. And that’s what hurt the most.

T
ATE UNLOCKED THE
front door and walked inside his house, breathing deep the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Knowing that Wren was somewhere in the house made his steps lighter and his heart pound. He couldn’t wait to see her. Wrap her up in his arms and kiss her. Push her into bed and have his way with her.

Yeah, that was the plan for the day. Naked bedtime. He hoped she was still down with that.

He set his bag down by the door and headed for the kitchen, hoping she was in there. Maybe she was making him breakfast. Maybe she was sitting at the table sipping a cup of coffee, her hair tousled and her eyes sleepy, wearing one of his T-shirts. That sounded nice. That sounded better than nice.

But when he entered the kitchen, she wasn’t there. Only the coffeemaker greeted him, percolating noisily as it finished brewing the coffee.

Pushing aside the disappointment that crashed through him, Tate left the kitchen and started down the hall toward his bedroom. Maybe she was in his shower. Now, that was a beyond-pleasant thought. A naked, soapy Wren under a stream of steaming-hot water was a fantasy he hadn’t had yet. He could help her get clean, assist her with those hard-to-reach places. Only if she would do the same for him . . .

She wasn’t in the shower. She wasn’t in his bedroom either. Nope, she was back in the guest room, fully dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, her hair swept up into a tight ponytail, the bed neatly made.

Her gym bag she used to keep at Delilah’s dance studio sat on top of the bed. She set a stack of folded clothes inside, turning on a gasp when he rapped on the doorframe. “Oh.” She rested her hand against her chest. “You scared me.”

“You knew I was coming home.” He leaned against the doorjamb. “I texted you.”

“Right.” She dropped her hand and nodded, her expression noncommittal. It was devoid of any emotion, even her eyes, which was . . . weird. Wren was the most expressive woman he knew.

When she didn’t say anything else, icy-cold unease trickled down his spine. “What’s going on, Dove?”

She lifted her chin, a hint of defiance making an appearance. Christ, she was beautiful, even without a lick of makeup on. He liked her best in her natural state, especially in her naked natural state, but clearly something was wrong. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be seeing her in his favorite naked state today.

“Do you have something you want to tell me?” she asked, her voice crisp.

“Uh . . . ” He searched his mind, which had been fully occupied with the various sexual positions he wanted to try out with Wren only a few seconds ago.

“Maybe about the fire?” she suggested helpfully.

Dread filled him. He didn’t like the overly pleasant tone of voice. Or the way she watched him, like she wanted to jump on him and scratch his eyes out with her fingernails. Fuck. Did she find out about the circumstances behind her house fire?

“I discovered that Lane was following me,” she said, giving him a pointed look. “And that the reason for his following me has to do with the arsonist being the one who burned my house down. He mentioned that he and West thought it was a good idea to keep it from me—and that you agreed.”

“I never fucking said that,” he said vehemently, making her back up a step. Damn it, he didn’t mean to sound so angry. “I didn’t agree with their decision to keep it from you.”

“Yet you did anyway. Even when you told me in the first place that the fire was arson.”

Right. He’d never denied it. So why was she angry? “I fully planned on telling you today. Right now.” Well. He would’ve kissed her first. Touched her. Dragged her into bed and given her a few orgasms before finally informing her of what was up. “I told Josh and I told your brothers it was messed up that they were keeping this from you.”

“But you kept it from me too, Tate.” He started to protest, but she cut him off. “I know you told me you thought it was arson right after it happened, but when they asked you to keep quiet about the recent details, you went along with them. And kept it secret from me.”

“I said I’d agree with their decision until I was off. The moment I came home, I planned on telling you everything.”

“You should’ve told me from the very first moment they told you. That’s what
couples
do. They don’t keep secrets from each other.” She turned so her back was to him and started shoving the rest of the piles of clothes into her bag. “I should come before them.”

“You do.” He went to her, touching her shoulders, but they stiffened beneath his hands, and he let them drop. “I knew it was a bad idea, keeping this from you.”

“So why didn’t you tell me?” She whirled around to face him, standing so close he could smell her. He wanted to bury his face in her neck and never let her go. “You should’ve fought harder to make your point. I deserved to know.”

“They were your brothers. I thought they knew best,” he said, knowing his reasoning sounded weak. Shit, maybe it was weak. She was putting doubt in his head, making him feel like shit, and he probably deserved it. But damn it, he never wanted to hurt her. He wanted to protect her.

Always.

“I’m a grown woman who can take care of herself. Clearly, the men in my life believe otherwise.” She turned toward the bed again and zipped her bag closed before grabbing the handle and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?”

“To Delilah’s. She’s never there anyway, considering she’s always with Lane.” Tate stood directly in front of her, and she glared up at him. “Get out of my way.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Let me explain first.”

“There’s nothing to explain. You thought I couldn’t take care of myself. You’re probably right. So maybe I need to spend some time on my own until I can figure all of this out.”

“Figure all of what out?” He frowned, wishing he could keep her. He just wanted Wren. Nothing else mattered if he couldn’t have her in his life.

“This. My life. It’s kinda pitiful, don’t you think?” She flashed him a fake smile, then shoved past him, startling him so bad that it took him a second before he chased after her.

“Wren, don’t go.” He grabbed hold of her arm, and she turned to face him, the anger and hurt he saw blazing in her eyes nearly crushing him. “Let me explain.”

“Explain what? That you think I can’t handle the truth? That I’m just a pretty little girl who needs to be taken care of? I’m not scared of the arsonist supposedly targeting me. That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. What bothers me the most is that you didn’t side with me. You sided with my brothers. I never come first in my family, and I guess I don’t come first with you either.”