Smolder (Wildwood 2)

“Bye, Delilah.” He started to leave but stopped, turning to look at Wren. “I’m going over to Mom and Dad’s later. You want to come with me?”

“Um . . . ” Wren’s voice drifted, and Delilah wanted to kick her. She needed to be there for her brother and their mom. “Do you really want me to?”

“I don’t know if I want to do this alone. Mom will probably respond better if we’re there together,” he answered, breaking Delilah’s heart. He’d always had a soft spot for his mom, even though their relationship had suffered the past few years.

“Okay.” Wren blew out a harsh breath, her expression pained. “I’ll go.”

The relief on Lane’s face was evident. “I’ll text you. I need to get a few hours of sleep in first.” He nodded toward both of them. “See you both later.”

He said those last words like a promise directed right at Delilah, and her heart pounded furiously as he left the building. Luckily, Wren went to her desk without a word.

Leaving Delilah to stare dreamily off into space for far too long, over a man who, up until a few hours ago, had been seemingly unattainable.

For once in her life, she finally felt like she had a shot at having something real with Lane.

“I WISH YOU’D talked to Mom yesterday,” Wren said when she climbed into Lane’s car a few hours later.

Well, hello to you too. “Something came up.” He didn’t bother telling her exactly what—his dick when it first caught sight of Delilah cooking dinner in his kitchen. Or his heartbeat as it kicked into high gear watching her hips sway beneath that pretty little dress. Of course all that had happened only after he’d drawn his freaking gun on her, which he still couldn’t believe. The girl had nerve, he’d give her that.

And a pretty little body. Sweet lips. His cock had ached for hours after he’d left her. He’d wandered around the fire scene in a daze, half listening to what Josh, the asshole prevention officer, had to say about the accelerant that was used to start the fire. Some sort of modified half-ass version of a Molotov cocktail, and didn’t that scare the hell out of all of them?

Their town was under siege by an unknown arsonist, and Lane wanted to get to the bottom of it. He had his own theories and more than a few local suspects he wanted to talk to. And he’d told everyone that too, much to the prevention guy’s disgust.

When Josh had told him that it wasn’t Lane’s call, that it wasn’t even under his jurisdiction to question anyone, and that he needed to let the professionals handle it—direct quote—Lane had been quietly furious. West had immediately sent him packing.

“Go to bed, man. It’s your day off. You don’t need to be here listening to this guy. He’s only making you mad and that’s the last thing you need.”

He’d tried to take his brother’s advice but he’d been too keyed up, too pissed off. He’d gone back to the deputy station for a while, going through paperwork, checking emails, listening to voice mails. The building was quiet, and he’d actually caught up on his workload, which always suffered. Feeling somewhat satisfied, he’d left the office a few hours later, ready to crash out.

But when he’d driven by the tiny strip mall where Delilah’s dance studio was located and saw her car sitting out front, he’d automatically turned into the parking lot, parking next to her Civic and growling with frustration when he pulled the studio

door handle and found it unlocked.

Wren snapped her fingers in front of his face, startling him. “Hello, anybody in there?”

Lane sent her an irritated look and threw the car into Drive, pulling out into the street. He’d stopped by to pick her up before they went to their parents’ house, and clearly she was irritated. Wren probably didn’t want to have this little meeting with Mom.

Welcome to the club. Neither did he.

“Seriously, Lane. What happened that you couldn’t talk to her yesterday? Why are you dragging me into this?” Wren asked.

He didn’t want to tell her about Delilah’s surprise visit. “I got called out on something last night. And aren’t you the one who originally dragged me into this? I’m doing you a favor,” he pointed out as he turned down the main drag that ran through the center of town. Their parents lived on the opposite side of the lake, so they were in for a fifteen-minute drive as long as traffic wasn’t heavy, which it might be. And if their hostile conversation continued like this, he was going to be good and mad by the time they made it to Mom and Dad’s.

Wren sighed and stared out the passenger side window. “I’d wanted to avoid it.”

He snorted. “Right. Of course you did.” They all left the big, ugly jobs to him. The big brother. The savior of the family. Wearing that responsibility all the time was a drag. He sort of hated it.

Fine. Most of the time, he really hated it.

“It scares me, Lane,” she admitted, her voice soft, her head averted. “What if something is really wrong with her?”

“Then we’ll help out and do the best we can,” Lane answered. That was all they could do.

“What if that’s not good enough?” She turned to look at him.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Shit. He wasn’t good at this emotional stuff. He didn’t know how to comfort his sister.

“I don’t want to fall apart in front of her, Lane. That’s why I was trying to avoid this.” She turned away from him once more, staring out the window. “But you wouldn’t understand.”