Torch: The Wildwood Series (12 page)

But just maybe . . . they
could
change that and become friends after all. She definitely didn’t want anything more. They were long done. Surely he had a girlfriend or even a . . . wife.

Her gaze dropped to his hands resting loosely on the tiny round table, and she leaned in closer, trying to see if he had a wedding ring on.

“So tell me. What’s up with you? What’s been going on for the last nine years?” he asked, drawing her attention back to his face. Staring into his warm brown eyes brought back a flood of memories, the majority of them pleasant. It was weird, how he felt so familiar yet like a stranger too.

How could she catch him up on nine years in only a few minutes? Ugh, she was a talker. It was both her greatest asset and biggest fault. Her incessant chatter had always driven her family crazy, but Levi never seemed to mind.

Then he dumped her, and she’d been so sad, yet so pissed, all at once. Why she was even talking to him, she wasn’t sure.

“There’s not much to tell. I never left Wildwood, so how exciting could my life be?” Before he could protest, she continued, “You already know about the biggest thing that happened to me this summer. My entire life just went up in smoke. Poof.” She laughed, trying to make light of the fire, but when she saw the sympathy flare in his gaze, she knew she blew it. Houses burning to the ground weren’t that funny.

“So awful, Wrennie,” he murmured with a shake of his head. “Do they think it’s the arsonist?” His voice was laced with concern. Hearing him mention the arsonist set her back a bit. Being a part of the firefighting community, she’d always known things before anyone else did. Not that any confidentialities were broken, but the Gallagher family always seemed to have the inside track when it came to local fire or police information. “My parents mentioned there have been a lot of fires here this summer,” he explained, no doubt because of the surprised expression on her face.

“I don’t know exactly what’s going on with the investigation, but I believe arson is suspected,” she answered carefully. She didn’t want to reveal too much information, not that she knew anything.

“Terrible. I can’t imagine what you’ve suffered because of this.”

“It hasn’t been so bad,” she started, but he shook his head, cutting her off.

“Next thing you know the entire town is on fire. Why isn’t anyone doing anything about this?” He sounded angry.

She laughed, though it was forced. “I think they’ll find him before anything as drastic as all of Wildwood burning happens.” Her brothers wouldn’t allow it. Neither would Tate.

Her heart ached just thinking of him. She knew he was frustrated. She’d been so distracted after they ran into Levi at the BFD, the entire rest of the evening had been ruined. She’d felt guilty about that.

So guilty.

“Who says it’s a him?” Levi raised his brows, reaching for his iced vanilla latte and taking a sip. “It could be a woman too.”

“Doubtful. Most arsonists are male.” She could recite a list of facts on arsonists she’d learned from her father over the years, but she didn’t want to bore him with those details. “Now come on. You don’t want to hear my entire sob story. It’s boring. Tell me what’s new with you.”

He glanced down at the table and smiled, looking downright . . . bashful? That was so un-Levi of him. “There’s not much to tell.”

Wren grabbed her cup and sipped from her white chocolate iced mocha. Maybe they hadn’t spoken or seen each other in years, but she knew Levi loved to go on about himself. He’d always had a big ego and needed it stroked. She’d accommodated him, thinking that was what good girlfriends did.

Now she knew better. This time she was just digging for information to see what he’d been up to since he left.

“Come on. We haven’t talked in forever,” she coaxed, making his smile grow. “Have you even been back to Wildwood since you left for college?”

“Of course I have.” He looked downright offended at her question. “Always brief visits though. Work never allows me to get away for too long. Sometimes my parents come to visit me.”

“Where are you living now? Last I heard you were in Los Angeles.” Why did she just say that? He probably thought she was keeping tabs on him.

But it was like he didn’t even notice what she said. “I live in San Francisco. I, uh . . . well, you wouldn’t believe what happened, but I created this app with a friend, and it sort of took off.” Levi launched into a description of the app, how it revolved around banking and keeping track of various accounts and investments. The longer he talked, the more bored she got, folding her straw wrapper into a tiny accordion, stretching it out between her fingers before smushing it back in.

He said something about how he used to live in Los Angeles before moving to San Francisco almost two years ago, since that’s where all the app designers lived, and how he bought a house in the same neighborhood as Mark Zuckerberg.

That little tidbit made her ears perk right up.

“Wait a minute. You live in the same neighborhood as Zuckerberg? Founder of Facebook?”

“I do.” He smiled. “It’s in the Mission District. Great house, completely renovated with all the modern necessities while keeping the exterior true to its original look. The place is three stories and with a fantastic view of the bay.”

Levi was so enthusiastic about his house and his job, and that was great, but his words also felt like he was . . . showing off? But she shouldn’t think that way. He had reason to be proud. She’d be proud too if she created a popular app and lived in the same neighborhood as the creator of Facebook.

“Sounds nice.” She smiled at him, going for polite, yet hating the nagging feeling that churned inside her. Since when had her first love been so boring?

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it. I think you’d love my house, and the neighborhood. I know how you’ve always loved San Francisco.” His smile faded, his expression going super serious in a frightening short amount of time. “You should come visit.”

She was touched that he remembered her love of the city, but no way could she go visit him. “Oh, I don’t think—”

“I mean it,” he interrupted. “I’d love for you to come see me, Wren. I have plenty of room.” He reached across the table and took her hand. She let him, curious to see if she’d experience that same old rush of tingles sweeping up her arm at his touch.

It was . . . pleasant. His hand was soft, not rough with calluses. Not like a man who worked with his hands. But his fingers were long, his palm wide. His touch comforted, and that was . . .

Pleasant.

Wait a minute. You already thought that particular word.

“Can I make a confession?”

His soft question accompanied by the equally soft smile curving his mouth temporarily rendered her mute. She could only nod in reply.

“It was . . . strange, seeing you at first,” he said as he squeezed her hand in his. “It’s been so long, and you’ve changed so much.”

Wren frowned. She had? Really?

“Yet you also look exactly the same. It’s crazy. And I mean that in a good way. Seeing you after all these years, all of those old memories came back.” He hesitated, tilting his head to the side so their gazes met. “And there were a lot of good times for us, right, Wrennie?”

She nodded, remaining silent, hating how he called her Wrennie. It sounded so stupid and immature—and incredibly intimate when they hadn’t shared any intimate moments in years. She didn’t feel close to him, not like that. And she wasn’t that girl anymore either. Though yes, she could admit there were a lot of good memories between them, there were some bad ones too. Like the big one, when he dumped her out of nowhere, leaving her a heartbroken seventeen-year-old while he ran off to college and partied into oblivion. She could only imagine the drunken escapades he got himself into. The parties, the drinking, the new friends he made, the girls.

All the many girls he banged.

Her teenage heart could hardly bear the thought.

“Talking to you reminded me of all those good times we shared. I realized then how much I missed having you in my life.” He interlaced their fingers together, the hand-holding turning intimate with one simple movement. “I know we can’t pick up where we left off. Too much time and too many things have happened since then, and we’ve both changed so much. I’m curious though. Would you ever considering giving me a . . . second chance?”

Wren blinked at him, her brain almost sluggish as it tried to compute his words. Was he for real? Did he just ask her for a second chance? After all this time? He’d left her and never looked back. Never bothered calling her, writing her a letter, an email, a text . . . nothing. Just up and left for college and continued living his life like she never existed. Once he was gone, she rarely saw his parents around town either. It was like the entirety of the Hamiltons had faded from her life once he broke it off.

And now he waltzed right back into town like he never left it. Flashed her a smile and held her hand while recounting those fond old memories, only to hit her with a,
Hey, let’s try this again
?

Um, no thanks.

“I’m flattered you would ask for a second chance,” she murmured, trying to tug her hand out of his, but he wouldn’t let go. “I think it’s great and all, that we have this shared history.”

“It’s a solid foundation to build a true and lasting relationship on,” he explained, his gaze gentle, his smile sweet.

“Right.” She nodded. He sounded so . . . sincere. Yet not. It was strange. This entire moment had just turned strange, and she hoped like crazy she could get herself out of it without inflicting any damage. Even after all this time, she still didn’t want to hurt him. Ridiculous. “But I think too much time has passed between us, Levi. We can’t try to get back what we used to share. It’s gone. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

She didn’t want to do anything about it. She was circling around Tate, and he was circling around her. He liked her despite her snarky defense mechanism and that she could beat him at swimming. She liked him too. She planned on telling him that she met with Levi the moment she got home. No secrets between them. She needed to be open and honest.

Tate deserved to know the truth.

His gaze was steady, his voice so deep and serious as he spoke. “Do you really believe that, Wrennie?”

“Please don’t call me Wrennie.” Ugh. He looked hurt over her saying that, but she couldn’t let this go on. “And I do believe that. Let’s leave our relationship where it was—in the past. And let’s focus on being friends now. That will be much easier.” She didn’t want to try again with Levi. He didn’t deserve a second chance. Yeah, maybe they could be friends, but they could never share such intimate moments together ever again. That ship between them had long since sailed, and she couldn’t imagine Levi as her boyfriend ever again.

But clearly he could. And he liked the idea too.

“You don’t have a girlfriend?” she asked, trying her best to keep her voice even. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. She was asking because she was curious, not because she wanted to pursue something with him.

“We split up a few months ago,” he admitted, hanging his head briefly before lifting it, his gaze meeting hers. “She got the dog in the divorce.”

“You were married?” She was shocked, though she probably shouldn’t be. Enough years had passed that he could’ve gotten married and divorced.

He laughed and shook his head. “Nah. Never married. We did live together, but we split about six months ago. She took the dog, claiming I was never home so I didn’t deserve to keep him. I loved that damn dog. Pretty coldhearted, how she took him away from me, don’t you think?”

Wren once again said nothing. They’d split only six months ago, meaning she was most likely a rebound consideration. And she deserved more than that.

“I’m ready for something serious. Something meaningful. Once Linda and I split, I kept thinking about . . . you. I Googled you.” He at least looked contrite with the admission. “I was curious. You never looked me up online?”

“No.” She shook her head. His disappointment was obvious, reminding her of what an egomaniac Levi had always been. It was always me, me, me. The world revolved around him.

“Well, I’m hoping you would’ve been pleasantly surprised. And proud of me. I’ve accomplished a lot so far, and I’m just getting started.” He smiled, rather pleased with himself. “I’m a catch, Wren. I can’t lie. But I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I can take care of you. Give you a home. We can live in the city. You always did love San Francisco. Remember when my parents took us there that one time?”

She did remember. More, she was the tiniest bit touched he remembered her love for the city. How she dreamed of living there when she grew up. Well, she was all grown up and still stuck in the same small town while he was almost . . . what?

Living her dream? No, more like living her teenaged self’s dream.

Her head wasn’t in the clouds anymore. She was firmly rooted in reality. And her reality didn’t involve Levi.

“I was a jerk when I broke up with you. I realized that right away but didn’t know how to tell you. I was young and stupid, and I was afraid you hated me.” His gaze pleaded, his expression earnest. “Tell me you don’t hate me. Please.”

“I don’t hate you.” The words were honest. How could she hate him? She wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. But too much had happened, too many years had passed.

He watched her like he expected her to say something, but what? Her mind drew a blank. She needed to let him down easy. Needed to tell him she wasn’t interested.

But the words never came.

Chapter Fourteen

W
REN STILL HADN
’
T
come home, and it was late. Way past dinnertime, when she told him she’d be back. This was his last night off before he went back on shift, and though he hadn’t told her, he was hoping they could spend it together. Doing whatever she wanted, preferably naked.

And in his bed.

That she still wasn’t here and it was creeping up on nine o’clock was his own damn fault. He could’ve told her he wanted to see her, but he hadn’t wanted to look too needy.

Tate scrubbed his hand over his face.
Christ.
The girl was making him feel needy. Like a lovesick idiot.

He prowled around his house. Unloaded the dishwasher. Folded and put away his laundry. Performed all the usual mundane tasks he normally did the night before he went back to work. But throughout it all, he felt different. Lonely. He missed having Wren around. He’d always been a solitary creature before. Living alone suited him just fine. He dealt with enough people at work when he was stuck at the station for four days straight, sometimes longer when he was working overtime.

Going home was his quiet time. His sanctuary. But having Wren around, knowing she was at his house even when he wasn’t there, he . . . liked it.

Wasn’t sure what to do about it either.

It was almost eleven before he finally heard the dead bolt turn and the front door open and close quietly from within his bedroom. He’d left only a single lamp on in the living room. The rest of the house was dark, and she probably thought he was asleep. He should just let her go to her own room and forget about tonight. It was none of his business, asking where she was. Or whom she was with. The sneaking suspicion that had lingered all night clawed at him, forced him to go to his bedroom door and push it open.

Wren was tiptoeing down the hall with sandals dangling from her fingers. She came to a stop when she saw him, her eyes wide, shoulders going back as she stood straighter, a guilty expression on her face. His gaze swept over her, taking every little detail in. The pale pink sundress she wore with the slightly flared skirt that hit her just above the knees bared plenty of skin and hugged her curves. His skin went hot, and his dick twitched, yet he hadn’t even touched her. Hell, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked so fresh and pretty, her hair pulled up into a high ponytail and exposing that elegant neck he wanted to feast on with his lips and tongue. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes wide, like she was embarrassed he caught her sneaking into the house.

“I thought you were sleeping,” she said softly.

“I was worried about you,” he admitted as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Her gaze dropped to his arms, her eyes warming appreciatively, and a surge of lust shot through him. If she wanted him so damn bad, why hadn’t she come home sooner? Why had she taken off at all? When did everything get so fucked up and confusing?

The next words came out of his mouth as if he had no control over them. “You said you’d be home for dinner.” He sounded like a nagging wife.

She winced and took a step backward. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t make us dinner, did you?”

“No, you’re off the hook for that. You don’t need to apologize.” She looked relieved, but he didn’t want her relieved. He wanted her to realize he’d been waiting for her. He wanted to know where the hell she’d been.

More like who the hell she had been
with
.

“Okay, good. I’ll make it up to you.” Her face brightened, and she smiled. “I’ll make you dinner tomorrow.”

“I go back to work tomorrow.”

The light dimmed in her eyes, and she propped her shoulder against the wall. “Oh. Right. Maybe another time then.”

Tate waited for her to admit where she’d been, but she remained quiet. The way she dipped her head told him she wouldn’t necessarily look him in the eye either.

Confirmation that she’d been with exactly whom he thought.

“You were with your ex.” He didn’t phrase it as a question. He knew she’d been with Levi Hamilton. Damn it, he didn’t even know the guy, but he hated him.

She lifted her head, the shoes she’d clutched dropping to the floor with a soft clatter. Shock etched across her features as she folded her arms in front of her chest, plumping up her breasts. Yeah, he noticed. Even when he was frustrated with her he couldn’t help but check out her tits. “You’re right, I was with him earlier. We, uh, went to coffee and played catch-up. Then I went over to Delilah’s and hung out for a little bit.”

“Did you have a good time strolling down memory lane?” He sounded like a jealous asshole, which was accurate because he
felt
like a jealous asshole, something he hadn’t experienced since when? High school? That he was jealous over some punk dick who strutted back into town and messed with his ex-girlfriend’s head all for his own selfish needs infuriated him.

“It was . . . ” She hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “Weird. And confusing.”

Not the answer he expected. “Why?”

Wren curled her arms tighter around her middle. “Levi said some things that . . . surprised me.”

Tate didn’t want to pull it out of her, but she wasn’t being particularly forthcoming either. If he kept badgering her, it would seem like he cared, and she might misinterpret his questioning.

But if he was being honest with himself, he
did
care. He cared a lot. Never had he felt this way about a woman before, especially a woman with whom he had a platonic relationship. Yeah, they’d flirted. A lot. He’d felt her up in his bed. Had his mouth on her skin. Kissed her just once. But he still didn’t know what she looked like when she came. Or what his name falling from her lips as she moaned sounded like.

He wanted to know all of those things and a million more when it came to Wren. She held herself back with him, much like he did with everyone. Keeping people at a distance meant they couldn’t really know him.

Wren though. She was a mystery he desperately wanted to figure out.

“I’d bore you with all the details. Nothing’s going on with me and Levi. Trust me.” She dropped her arms and pushed away from the wall with a weary smile. “Besides, I already unloaded enough on Delilah. I should probably let you get your sleep. Good night, Tate.”

She was about to turn and walk into her temporary bedroom when he stepped forward, wrapping his fingers around her upper arm. Pausing, she turned to look at him over her shoulder, her eyes wide, her full lips parted. Her tongue darted out, and she licked at the corner of her mouth, her expression nothing short of nervous and, fuck, still so sexy. He didn’t want her unsure and timid around him. Screw that.

“You can unload on me anytime,” he said, careful to keep his voice even and meaning every word. “Whatever’s bothering you, if you need to talk, I’m here for you. Even if I’m the one who’s bothering you.”

“Well. You do drive me crazy sometimes.” Her smile returned, faintly tipping up the corners of her mouth. God, he couldn’t stop staring at her fucking lips. He wanted them. Wanted to taste and tease, nip and lick and suck.

“I thought so.” He loosened his hold on her arm, skimming his thumb across her skin in a gentle caress. Goose bumps formed, and the tiniest shiver moved through her. “Do you realize I haven’t even really
kissed
you yet? Why? What the hell is wrong with us?”

She gaped at him. Yeah, Wren needed to know he had zero plans on giving up. He wasn’t even close to being finished with her. What if that asshole Hamilton was trying to get her back? Fuck that. The jackass needed to go back to the big city where he belonged and leave Wren alone.

Leave Wren for
him
.

“You kissed me at the lake.”

“One kiss is not enough,” he murmured.

“Oh. You’re, um, probably right.” Her voice was shaky, her gaze dropping to his lips. As if she wanted them on hers. He stepped closer, his body brushing against hers, forcing her to flatten herself against the wall. Her hair and her skirt rustled with the movement, and her breasts rose and fell with each hurried breath. All he could hear was the sound of their accelerated breathing in the otherwise quiet of the house, the tick of the clock that hung in his kitchen. He slid his hand down her bare arm, his fingers ghosting along her skin. “We should probably try it again. You know, see if we’re compatible,” she whispered.

“I’m fairly certain we’re beyond compatible,” he murmured, touching her face, his fingers drifting over her cheek, thumb streaking across her plump lower lip. Her lids fluttered, a gust of warm air caressing his hand, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. “I missed you tonight, Dove.”

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, allowing his gaze to zero in on her chest, the hint of cleavage exposed. The top of her dress dipped just low enough to tease, and his mouth watered at all that pretty, smooth skin on display. “You should’ve texted me.”

“I thought you were coming home earlier.” He touched her neck, slid his index finger down, down, until he was tracing the neckline of her dress, touching the spot where skin met material. “My feelings for you confuse the hell out of me.”

He lifted his gaze and studied her face, the way her delicate brows drew down at his admission, her tongue sneaking out for another quick lick. Lord help him, the woman was driving him crazy.

“I don’t want to come on too strong,” he confessed when she still hadn’t said anything. “But I’m not going to let you slip through my fingers either.”

Her eyes opened slowly, her slightly dazed blue eyes staring into his. “You’ve never shown much restraint around me until now.”

Chuckling, he dipped his finger beneath the dress’s neckline, touching warm, soft skin, the snug valley between her breasts. She sucked in a harsh breath, goose bumps chasing after his touch. “Suddenly feels like everything’s on the line, you know?”

“Really?” She sounded surprised. Didn’t she see? He wanted her. He’d never done anything like this before, but if he had to fight for her then . . . he would.

The realization was startling. He’d never had to fight for a woman. Ever.

Tate dropped his hand and shifted even closer to Wren, so their legs tangled and their chests were pressed together. He slipped one arm around her waist, the other hand moving back up to cradle the side of her face as he tilted her head back. Her gaze met his, wide and unblinking. “Before, it was just playing around. I was attracted to you. Wanted to get you in my bed.” He dipped his head so his mouth hovered just above hers. “But now all I can think about is, how can I
keep
you in my bed? In my house? In my life?”

Before she could utter a single word, he settled his mouth on hers.

W
REN
’
S HEAD SWAM
at the first touch of Tate’s warm, damp lips on hers. They moved over hers slowly, as if he were savoring her, savoring this particular moment—their first real kiss. Helplessly she reached out, her fingers catching at the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. He went willingly, his arm tightening around her waist, his other hand sliding from her cheek up into her hair at the exact moment he deepened the kiss. She parted her lips, letting him in. A whimper sounded in her throat when his tongue thoroughly swept her mouth.

He said he wanted to keep her. That he wanted
her
. Evidence of his want pressed against her belly, reminding her that all she had to say was yes.

And he’d be inside her. No questions asked.

She slipped her arms around his neck and buried her hands in his soft hair, a whimper leaving her when he broke the kiss to slide his mouth down the length of her neck. His hot lips blazed a trail along her skin, leaving her weak. Restless.

Terrified.

Could she really have something serious with Tate? She was tempted. So tempted. But what if he hurt her? What if she wasn’t good enough? What if he got bored? She was scared. Relationships in general scared her. She didn’t want to get hurt. It was easier to pretend you didn’t need someone than lay your feelings, all your hopes and dreams, on the line.

Kissing Tate, falling into bed with him, wasn’t going to solve her problems—only temporarily, if at all.

Maybe she needed a temporary fix.

“Hey.” He broke the kiss, his lips moving against hers when he spoke. “You’re not with me.”

Blinking her eyes open, she stared up at him, his face so close she could see the myriad colors in his eyes. They weren’t solid green, but a mixture of shades of light and dark green, gold, and brown. “I’m with you,” she said breathlessly, reaching up to touch the side of his face. His skin was prickly with stubble, and she had the sudden image of all that stubble rubbing against her thighs as he dived between her legs.

Her panties dampened at the mere thought.

“Really.” He kissed her nose. “I find it hard.” He kissed her cheek. “To believe you.” He kissed her other cheek. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about him.”

Wren’s eyes widened. What? She wasn’t thinking about Levi. She was worried about herself and the predicament she was in. All of the problems overwhelming her, along with her confusing feelings for Tate. Did he feel the same way? Could he?

“Are you?” Tate repeated, his voice firm. Maybe even a little bit angry. “Are you really kissing me and thinking about your ex?”

“I . . . no.” She shook her head, unsure of what to say next. She’d never been in this kind of situation before, with two men vying for her attention. She’d always thought that could be kind of fun. Such heady stuff, two men wanting her at the same time. What girl wouldn’t want to experience that at least once?

But it wasn’t fun. Not at all. No, more like it was confusing and terrifying. She didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. She didn’t want to feel like this. And she definitely didn’t want to make Tate angry.

But angry, frustrated Tate was pretty hot. His jaw had gone hard, muscle clenching, and his cheeks were ruddy. She’d caught glimpses of that cute dimple in his left cheek quite a bit when he was flirting with her, but all traces of it were gone at this moment. His eyes were dark and full of fire, his brows lowered, his mouth still damp and swollen from their kisses . . .