Ignite (Wildwood 1)

“I can do that.” Harper nodded, excitement bubbling up inside her.

Excitement accompanied by a very fine case of nerves. Bold had never been her thing. She was a linger-in-the-background type of woman, always had been.

But when it came to West, he made her want to do something crazy. She just wasn’t su

re if he was interested in her type of crazy.

“Like, really bold. I’m talking about throwing it all out there. Letting him know exactly what you want from him so he won’t misunderstand your intentions.” Delilah watched her. “Once you start, you can’t stop.”

She smiled, pushing past her normal anxiety. “Trust me, I’m up for the challenge.”

WEST WAS FUCKING exhausted. He’d spent most of the afternoon into the night painting the kitchen and dining area. The painting part wasn’t exhausting though. It was all the prep. Taking down the pictures on the walls, taping off the baseboards and the ceilings, cleaning the walls, laying out the drop cloths to protect the floors. That shit took forever.

And he was over it.

He’d taken a shower and had only bothered to slip on a pair of basketball shorts. He was sprawled out on the couch, watching TV and nursing a beer. All alone on a Saturday night; how pathetic could he get?

Not much more pathetic.

Holden had called him, asking if he wanted to meet at a bar, but West turned him down. Lane had a day off too, but once they were done with Home Depot, he’d gone home and locked himself away in his tiny house, like he might melt if he got caught outside after sundown.

Not that West wanted to hang out with Lane. And he was too damn tired to keep up with Holden tonight. He’d rather stay home and watch shitty TV, nurse his emotional wounds, and hope like hell work would pick up soon so he could at least keep himself busy and not think about how he’d blown it with the girl of his secret dreams. It was late, past ten o’clock, and he should’ve just gone to bed but there was no point. He was wide awake, and he’d already jacked off in the shower so he would’ve just laid in bed and stared at the ceiling.

No thanks.

A knock sounded at his door, startling him, and he climbed off the couch to go answer it, pissed that it was most likely Holden ready to convince him he should go out to the bars. He didn’t bother looking through the peephole, just unlocked the door and swung it open, launching right into a speech for his little brother.

“I already told you I didn’t want to go out tonight,” West said, the rest of the words stalling in his throat when he saw who was standing on his front doorstep.

It was Harper, wearing a black trench coat on a warm June night, her long auburn hair extra wavy and flowing past her shoulders, a secretive little smile curving her very red lips.

“You did?” She blinked up at him, all wide-eyed sexy innocence. “Maybe I should go then?”

She started to turn and he grabbed hold of her arm, halting her progress. “Don’t go.” He sounded eager. Way too eager. Clearing his throat, he started over. “Sorry. I just thought—I thought you were Holden.”

“Oh.” She turned to fully face him once more and his gaze dropped to her feet, which were in the sexiest, shiniest black high-heeled shoes he’d ever seen. “So you don’t mind that I stopped by?”

He looked up, their eyes meeting. “Not at all.” What was she up to? Her eyes were heavily made up, as were her ruby red lips. And her hair was downright wild . . . all he could think of was fisting it in his hands and tugging her head back so he could plant a long, deep kiss on those juicy lips.

“It’s sort of late.” She blatantly scanned his mostly naked body, her glossy lips parted, her pink tongue touching just the corner of her mouth. Her gaze lingered on his chest and arms, cataloging his tattoos. She seemed fascinated with them and he was half tempted to flex his muscles just to see if her eyes grew hungrier . . .

Which they seemed to do, without any encouragement on his part. If she didn’t stop looking at him like that he might get a freaking boner and that probably wouldn’t be good. “Were you in . . . bed?”

The provocative way she just said it made him aware of her close proximity. How her hands tugged on the ends of the belt wrapped tight around her waist. The hollow of her throat was exposed, as was a bit of her chest. She looked practically naked under that coat.

Hmm.

“No, I wasn’t in bed.” He paused, wondering what the hell she was up to. Whatever it was, he could appreciate the way she was staring at him, and he was damn thankful she’d come by. He figured he’d blown it for good with Harper. “You want to come in?”

“I would love to.” She smiled and he stepped out of her way, the scent of her surrounding him as she walked by. He shut and locked the door and followed her as she moved deeper into the living room. Grabbing the remote from the side table, he turned off the TV, the sudden silence amplifying every move she made.

“So I have a proposition for you,” she said, turning to face him once more. “One I’m hoping you’ll agree to.”

In the hushed quiet of his house, she looked a little less sure, a little more nervous. A lot more like the Harper he knew. He wanted to reach out and reassure her, but he also wanted to hear what she had to say first.

“Really?” He rested his hands on his hips, noting the way her gaze dropped to linger on his stomach. He felt downright exposed, what with the way she studied him. Not that he minded. “What is it?”

She bit her lower lip as she contemplated him, her straight white teeth a bold contrast to the deep red coating her lips. “Last night, when we talked, you said you weren’t boyfriend material.”