Before she could answer him, West kissed her breathless, his lips, his tongue, his hands busy. Long, kiss-filled minutes later, she finally pulled away from him, running a hand over her hair, smoothing her shirt back into place. “We should go back out.”
He huffed out a frustrated breath. “You’re right.”
“You need to order lunch.”
“They know what I want.”
“You should make sure they’re okay.”
“They’re fine.” His hands were back on her again, slipping beneath the hem of her T-shirt and touching her bare skin.
“What if you get another call?” She sounded breathless again. How did he do this to her every time he kissed her?
“I have the radio attached to my belt, babe.” He went in for another kiss, but she stopped him, her hands braced on his chest. “You worry too much.”
“You’re right,” she whispered against his lips as she slid her hands up over his shoulders. “I do.”
“Stop worrying and kiss me.”
Harper did as he requested.
No questions asked.
Acknowledgements
I HAVE TO acknowledge my grandma when it comes to this book. No, she doesn’t own a restaurant called the Bigfoot Diner (though that would be awesome), but she is pretty cool and very independent. My grandpa died when I was fourteen. My grandparents lived out in the country far from any town, and my grandma couldn’t drive. She was so dependent on my grandpa for everything. But after he died, she realized she needed to get busy learning how to drive so my stepdad taught her. She bought a tiny Honda Civic and I remember driving around with her—I was probably fifteen?—and another car cut her off. She flipped him the bird and called him a dirty word. I was shocked. This was my grandma! A sweet little old lady who never cursed and definitely never pointed her middle finger at anyone!
But now I realize as I’ve grown older that hey, my grandma was pretty young when her husband died—in her early fifties. And once enough mourning time had passed, the vultures started circling. Meaning, the old men in the senior community in her small town, the widowers and divorced guys, who were looking for a new mate in their golden years. One of them was named . . .
Buster Boner.
I kid you not! When my grandma told me his name, I couldn’t stop laughing. I went with her to a friend’s house one summer and actually met him. He was very old and very interested in my grandma. He called her out of the blue one day and told her, “Grace, I have seventy thousand dollars in the bank and two tickets to Hawaii. Are you with me?” She said no. I asked her why (I mean, I met him and could see why she said no, but hey! That’s some decent money and Hawaii!) and she said, “He’s nothing but an old coot.” He eventually found someone else to take to Hawaii. I vaguely remember an article in her local newspaper that claimed Buster Boner was missing! His children hadn’t heard from him in days and it turned out he’d gone out of town with a lady friend (that’s what my grandma called her). Guess he found someone to spend all his money with after all.
Buster Boner is long gone, but his name lives on. I told my grandma a few days ago that I wrote him into this story, and the first words out of her mouth were, “Oh, that old coot? I haven’t thought of him in forever!” She still calls him that. She cracks me up. I love my grandma. She also said I just forever immortalized Buster Boner and I told her how could I forget a name like that? Real life is definitely stranger than fiction.
I also have to mention my husband because he’s the one who came up with the Bigfoot Diner idea and told me I could call it the BFD. In a mountain town near us there used to be a Bigfoot-themed restaurant and as a kid, he loved going to that place. Though his idea was really his opening up an actual restaurant like that. I squashed that plan and told him I’d create a fictional restaurant instead. So the BFD is for him.
Want more from the boys of Wildwood?
Keep reading for a sneak peek from
SMOLDER
Coming Summer 2016 from Avon Impulse.
An excerpt from
SMOLDER
DELILAH MADE HER way down the hall before she turned to glare at Lane, her eyes glowing in the dim light. “I swear to God, you’re the most ignorant person I’ve ever met in my life. Do you do that on purpose or what?”
“Do I do what on purpose?” He scratched at the center of his chest, hating how his heart still beat erratically. So hard it felt like it was going to bust right through his ribcage.
They stared at each other for a long, quiet moment. He could hear the muffled voices coming from outside, the kitchen door slamming. Most likely it was Wren making her way to the backyard. He hoped like hell she wouldn’t spread rumors about what she just saw.
Knowing his sister, she’d probably tell Harper. And West. And anyone else with ears who could hear her talk. She had a big enough mouth.
“You make me insane,” Delilah finally said, her voice . . . sad? Well, hell, he didn’t expect that. Irritation, yes. That was the name of their game. But upsetting her? Making her sad? Making her look so damn . . . hopeless?