Smolder: The Wildwood Series (2 page)

It could be someone he knew.

Someone he liked.

Someone he trusted.

And that possibility really pissed him off.

His phone rang and he answered it, thankful as always for Bluetooth. “What’s up?” It was his brother West calling.

“They’re bringing in someone from prevention,” he announced. “The investigator will be here first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Good.” The sheriff’s department had been working alongside Cal Fire on the arsonist investigation, but the fires were really Cal Fire’s jurisdiction. “We need all the help we can get.”

“I hear he’s some grumpy prick who’s like a dog with a bone. As in he won’t let shit go,” West muttered. “But don’t ever repeat what I just said. I sound like an asshole.”

Lane chuckled. “Yeah, you do. But your secret is safe with me.” His brother had really changed from the sullen, miserable kid who’d escaped Wildwood at the first opportunity. He was good at his job, had a good woman by his side, and seemed no longer resentful of his hometown or his family.

“I just hope he catches this motherfucker quick. I’m sick of this.”

“Comes with the territory.” They’d had plenty of arsonists in and around Wildwood over the years. Living in the mountains, being surrounded by pine trees and thick brush seemed to bring out the firebug in people. They’d just never had such a busy arsonist before. And it worried Lane. A lot.

It worried everyone.

“I almost forgot, Harper wanted me to ask you over for dinner tomorrow.”

“Family dinner?” Lane asked.

“Family and friends. More like a small party. She wanted to invite everyone over and be as social as possible before I end up called out on another fire for weeks on end,” West explained. “Please say you’ll go. I don’t want to be the lone wolf among all of her girlfriends.”

“What about Holden?”

“He’ll be there. Snuggled up with Kirsten,” West said, his tone laced with irritation. Like he had any room to talk. Lane was pretty sure all West wanted to do lately was snuggle up with Harper.

“And Tate?”

“He’ll be there, but I’m not that close with him, dude. Not like I am with you.”

“Well, you’ll never be as close to anyone as you are with me,” Lane pointed out. “I’m your brother, jackass.”

“Fuck you,” West said good-naturedly. “Don’t give me some crap about you having to work an extra shift either. I know you’re scared to face Delilah.”

“Say what?” Lane pulled over his cruiser and put the car into Park. Why would West mention Delilah now? And why would it rattle him so much? Maybe because he just saw her? Could still smell her? Shit. “Why would you mention Delilah?”

“Because you like her. And she likes you. So I don’t know what the holdup is. Just go for it.” West hesitated. “You do still like her, right?”

Lane sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. He didn’t want to talk about his love life—or lack thereof—with his brother. Yes, he and West had grown closer since his younger brother had returned to Wildwood. Yes, they might’ve discussed Delilah a time or two.

But right now, he didn’t want to talk about her. He shouldn’t even want to think about her. He liked being alone, damn it.

The last time he had a steady girlfriend in his life, she’d given him nothing but grief. Jessica had worried too damn much about his job and the danger it put him in. Considering he patrolled a town that was on the small side and most of the complaints he took involved squabbling neighbors and teen vandals, he’d thought Jess’s reaction was a bit over the top. She hadn’t thought so though. A year into the relationship, she’d given him an ultimatum. It was either her or his job.

He chose the job.

They’d split up, and Jess left Wildwood a few weeks later. He hadn’t heard from her since.

“She’s a friend,” Lane finally said, his voice firm. “I wish everyone would remember that and stop pushing her on me.”

West out and out laughed. “Fine. I’ll remember that, bro. Don’t you worry. See you tomorrow night. Come around seven. And bring your favorite beer.”

With that, his pain-in-the-ass brother hung up on him.

Chapter Two

D
ELILAH WORE HER
shortest shorts. Her skimpiest—and cutest—strappy summer top, one that showed off plenty of skin. She wore her hair up, exposing even more skin, and her makeup was on point. As in, she had a major cat eye going on that she’d practiced over and over again until she got it just right, thank you very much. Plus she’d slicked on the deep red lipstick that she’d let Harper borrow on her mission to seduce West.

When she’d returned it, Harper had told her that he’d appreciated the lipstick. And now, for some crazed reason, she was hoping Lane might appreciate the lipstick too.

Like the lust-crazed woman she was, she’d already forgotten about her vow to forget Lane. How could she forget him? It wasn’t just lust that drove her. She cared about the man, had known him forever, and truly believed she understood him.

Well. Somewhat. She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just let go and actually see if they could become . . . something.

She’d told herself she should give up. He was a waste of her time. Chasing after a man who didn’t want you was like getting kicked in the teeth over and over again. She should know better. If her friends had been doing something like this, she’d have told them in no uncertain terms that they were idiots.

So she was an idiot who needed to stop pursuing Lane. Yet here she was, doing exactly the opposite of that, hoping against hope that he’d show up soon so he could get a long gander at what he was missing.

Frowning, she glanced around West and Harper’s crowded backyard. Yep, stupid Lane Gallagher wasn’t even here yet, but that was okay. She knew how to distract herself. More than once she spotted some random guy casting an appreciative glance in her direction. She didn’t recognize most of them, which was a bonus. After living in the same small town her entire life, she felt like she knew every stupid guy within five to seven years of her age.

Might’ve dated most of them too.

Whoops.

But when pickings are slim, as her mother used to say, you go with what you know. Her parents had both grown up in Wildwood too. Her mother had more than one story of seeing her dad pee his pants in preschool, pick his nose in kindergarten, and eat glue straight out of the jar in second grade.

Somehow, she still ended up marrying the man.

Lane was older, so Delilah hadn’t spent much time with him during the elementary school years, or middle school either. Only in high school did she finally have him in an elective class. They’d been on the yearbook staff together, and they’d spent many a day after school working on it. It was the first time she’d really talked to him without West or Wren around.

And she’d grown to like him. A lot. She liked his eyes. His laugh. The way he looked at her, like he might find her attractive but he wasn’t going to act on it. That meant he was a gentleman, though she hadn’t realized it then. No, back then it had been the forbidden element that was alluring, not so much the gentleman part.

As time passed, she sort of hated that gentlemanly part of him. The fact that he never acted on his feelings for her only left her frustrated.

Back in the day, she’d even made fun of Lane behind his back with West, but it had never sat right. It wasn’t such a bad thing that Lane was a stand-up guy. West had been the rebel, so of course he was going to bag on his well-behaved big brother. It was a natural reaction.

Glancing over her shoulder, she looked for Lane yet again but there was still no sign of him. Instead, one unfamiliar guy kept giving her the stare every time she glanced in his direction. He was attractive. Tall with a nice set of shoulders; short, dark-blond hair; blazing hazel eyes; and a jaw that could cut granite. If she wasn’t so hung up on Lane, she could totally go for this guy. He had an intensity that positively radiated and she could admit . . .

She liked them intense. Example number one? Hello, Lane.

Ugh. Lane. Her emotions were all over the place right now. One minute she was fine that he wasn’t here yet and the next, she was so irritated she wanted to string him up by his toes. Where was he? She knew he wasn’t working. Harper had mentioned that he’d be there but they were more than two hours into this little gathering West and Harper had organized and so far, he hadn’t shown up.

The jerk.

“Why are you scowling?” Wren asked as she approached.

Delilah watched her friend, trying her best to keep her expression neutral. “I’m not scowling.”

“You so were.” She handed Delilah a cold bottle of beer. “Drink this. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Thanks.” They clinked their bottles together before they both took a sip. “I guess I was just thirsty,” Delilah said once she swallowed.

Wren laughed and shook her head. “What, thirsty for my no-show brother? That’s one way to describe it.”

It took everything in her not to frown again. This is what happened when a woman revealed all her secrets to her closest friends—and said closest friends never forgot them. And constantly gave her shit for them too.

“I’m over him,” Delilah said stiffly, wishing she could chug the beer and grab another one. And then another immediately after that. She’d give just about anything to forget her man problems for at least one night. Maybe longer.

Maybe forever.

“Sure you are,” Wren drawled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Unrequited crushes suck.”

“We’re not in high school.”

“No shit, Sherlock. So why do you act like you are? Forget him!” Wren gestured wildly with her beer bottle still in hand, her fingers clutched close around the long neck. “There are too many fish in the sea. You don’t need to pout over one dumb guy who’s too blind to see the perfect woman is standing right in front of him.”

Delilah placed her free hand directly over her heart. “Aw, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“It’s the truth.” Wren pointed her bottle at Delilah. “Seriously, forget Lane. Find some hot firefighter to chase after. This place is crawling with them tonight.”

“You’re right,” Delilah said. “There’s one in particular that I’m interested in . . . ”

“Who?”

“Tate.” Ha. Take that, Wren Gallagher. Delilah knew her friend was secretly lusting after that particular firefighter, though for some weird reason she acted like she hated him.

Wren’s mouth popped open. “Seriously?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s
gorgeous.
” This wasn’t a lie. Tate was very handsome. And nice. And funny. But Delilah wasn’t interested in him. Not at all.

“He’s a jerk,” Wren retorted.

“He is not.” Delilah shook her head. “You’re right. I’m going to take your advice and forget Lane. I think I’m gonna go look for Tate. I bet he’d talk to me.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me.” Delilah smiled and turned, heading toward the back door of the condo. Wren didn’t stop her, didn’t even say a word.

Wimp. They did this sort of thing to each other all the time. She’d tell Wren later that she was totally messing with her.

Instead, she went to the kitchen in pursuit of Harper or West—only to run into the guy who’d been watching her outside.

“Hey.” He grabbed a beer out of the cooler and offered it to her, his gaze locked on hers. “Thirsty?”

Delilah held up the beer in her hand, smiling. “I already have a fresh one, thanks.”

He nodded, twisted the cap off, and took a swig. She watched him, appreciating the way his T-shirt formed to his muscular chest, the grip of his hand around the beer bottle. This guy was majorly attractive and had a glower that should’ve melted her panties at first glance.

But.

He wasn’t the one she wanted. And since clearly she wasn’t over that particular guy, she’d have to fake it. She could smile faintly at Mr. Mysterious and pretend that she wanted to talk to him, all the while discreetly sneaking peeks outside to see if Lane had arrived yet.

The things she did for one stupid man. She almost wanted to slap herself.

L
ANE WAS LATE
to his brother’s party. Not that he really wanted to go in the first place, but he couldn’t be a total dick. He and West were working on their relationship, and so far they were getting along pretty well. He refused to be the one to mess it up.

But his neighbor had called right around six asking for assistance. Old Mrs. Bosley couldn’t get her car to start, so he’d gone over there to check under the hood. Turned out she needed a new battery, so he’d gone to a Walmart in the next town over to buy one for her. By the time he was finished installing it, it was well past eight and his hands were greasy.

So he’d taken another quick shower, telling himself he wasn’t stalling on purpose. But hey, if he took too long, then maybe Delilah wouldn’t be there after all and he wouldn’t have to suffer while he watched her laugh and smile and flirt with other guys.

Or worse, laugh and smile at him, forcing him to give her the cold shoulder in the hope that it would drive her away. Exactly the type of response that would make the light dim in her expressive, always sparkling eyes, and cause that sexy-as-fuck mouth to draw down into a disappointed frown. The mouth he wanted to taste and kiss. The mouth he wanted, just once, to see wrapped tight around his di—

“There you are!” West pounded on the hood of his truck, startling him.

He’d managed to pull into the parking lot right in front of West and Harper’s condo and not even realize it. Hell, how dangerous was that?

“Why you so late, bro?”

Because he was a chickenshit who didn’t want to face the one woman he wanted more than any other?

Yeah, that answer wouldn’t go over so well.

“Helped out my neighbor,” Lane said instead as he put the truck in Park and yanked the keys out of the ignition. He rolled up his window before West could respond, earning a glare from his brother for his efforts.

Climbing out of his truck, he slammed the door, not bothering to lock it. Not that he thought he was untouchable considering he was a county deputy, but hell. Who would be stupid enough to steal a deputy sheriff’s truck?

“Well, aren’t you neighborly and all? Didn’t know you had it in you.” West clapped him on the back as they headed up the walkway toward the front door of the condo. “Didn’t bring any beer?”

“Didn’t have time. Though I could make a run if you want,” Lane offered, ready to turn tail and get out of here so he wouldn’t have to see Delilah. She was inside. He could literally feel her presence. What was it about her that drew him like a magnet? And it wasn’t just physical either. She was smart. Opinionated. Strong. Feisty. Sexy . . .

Too sexy for him to withstand—especially if he had a few beers in him and was feeling horny. An alcoholic buzz would destroy his defenses.

Lane needed to get the hell out of here. Quick.

He was halfway turned around and going toward his truck when West grabbed him by the arm, stopping him. “Oh, no you don’t. We have plenty of beer inside. I just don’t know if we have your preference.”

That his brother had already figured out he was a beer snob touched him. Not that he’d admit it. “I guess I’ll survive, though I have no problems stopping by Abe’s Liquor to pick up what I like.”

Shock Top was a favorite. He had many favorites and had even started brewing his own after Wren had given him a brew kit for his birthday a few months ago. Though he only managed to do that in his spare time.

And truly? He didn’t have a lot of spare time. At all.

“I’m sure you’d love to make your getaway. And then we wouldn’t see you again for the rest of the night.” West shook his head as he let go of Lane’s arm. “Stop being such a coward and just go in there.”

Lane tensed up. He didn’t like being called a coward. He was the furthest thing from a coward when it came to his job. He faced danger every single day of his goddamned life.

So what was it about a sweet, beautiful woman that had him sweating bullets every time he saw her? He needed to get over it. Over her. Maybe find some other young thing who wasn’t looking for a commitment and fuck her. Fuck his feelings for Delilah right out of his soul by losing himself in someone else.

Right. Like that would work. He’d only end up feeling guilty for using a girl and mentally cheating on Delilah, which was crazy.

Of course, the woman in question made him straight-up crazy so . . .

“Is she inside?” He didn’t say her name. Knew he didn’t need to.

“Yeah. Of course she is. Her and Harper and Wren are all attached at the hip,” West said as he opened his front door and held it for Lane. “Just come inside. There are friends in there. People you know. People you even like. Grab a beer and go make conversation like an actual human being.”

Muttering under his breath, Lane strode inside the small but cozy condo, waving his greeting at the few people who were sitting in the living room chatting. He followed his brother into the kitchen, offering a low-spoken thanks when West handed him a cold beer.

At the same moment he twisted the cap off the bottle, every hair on the back of his neck rose, a sure sign that he was in the same damn room as Delilah. He glanced over his shoulder, spotted her standing only a few feet away in the tiny alcove that was considered the dining area, a big smile stretching her perfectly lush, perfectly deep red mouth wide as she talked with an unfamiliar guy who was standing awfully close to her.

Too close.

Jealousy rode Lane hard as he watched them, not liking the way the man looked at Delilah like maybe he was interested. Lane didn’t recognize him. Had never seen the asshole in his life, and he remembered his plan of only a moment ago. The one that had him seeking out a girl he didn’t know for some mindless fucking.

What if Delilah did that? What if she took this joker back to her place and fucked him for the rest of the night? What if she’d given up on Lane and was moving on? He wouldn’t blame her. He’d given her no reason to believe he was going to make a move. Why the hell did the idea of making a move on Delilah terrify him so much?

Commitment in general scared the hell out of him, and he knew without a doubt that Delilah was the type of woman to whom a man gave his all. She wouldn’t have it any other way. Hell, she deserved the best kind of treatment and the best kind of man.