“If that’s what you need me to be.”
She contemplated him, tilting her head to the side, her expression unreadable. Her glossy brown hair slid over her bare shoulder and he was tempted to brush it aside. Run his mouth along her skin and taste her with his tongue. But she was buzzed on champagne, and he wasn’t going to take advantage of her.
He frowned. Why did this sort of thing always happen between them? Since when did he turn into her rescuer when she was drunk?
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she finally asked. “When I’ve been nothing but a jerk to you.”
“I like feisty women.” That was much easier to say than I like you.
“When you call me feisty, is that code for bitchy and rude?”
Tate chuckled. “I would never call you bitchy and rude.”
“You should. I’ve been nothing but awful to you since the day we met.”
“Why is that anyway? You have something against me or what?” That was the magic question he’d been dying to ask since . . . the day they met. She’d acted almost hostile toward him that very first time. He’d worn her down a little bit, so at least now when they gave each other shit, some of it was teasing.
But some of it wasn’t—at least on her part. He was curious to know what exactly he did to piss her off so thoroughly.
She pressed her lips together, as if she’d already revealed too much. “Where’s your car?”
“Over there.” He let her subject change slide, figuring she didn’t want to talk about it. He was cool with that. After all, she’d be trapped in his car for the next fifteen minutes or so while he drove her home. They could either talk or she could pass out again. Though he wanted her awake tonight. Wanted to see if she was really as drunk as he thought, or maybe she wasn’t so buzzed after all.
Why? So you can see if she wants to get busy?
Tate made a face. Even his thoughts sounded stupid.
Without a word, he rested his hand at the small of Wren’s back and guided her out into the parking lot toward his car. He’d text West later, letting him know they’d left and apologizing for not saying goodbye.
The night was quiet. He could hear the wind rustle through the trees, the faint roar of traffic down on the main road that circled the lake. The condos were fairly close to Wildwood Lake, though West and Harper’s place didn’t have that coveted water view.
Wren lifted her face into the breeze as the cool mountain air washed over them, her eyes sliding closed for the briefest moment. “I can smell the pine trees,” she murmured, her eyes opening to meet his as they slowed their pace.
“I can barely smell them,” he admitted. When he first moved here the smell of all the pines that surrounded the town, the lake, the entire area had almost overwhelmed him. After living in Wildwood for almost a year, he barely noticed them
anymore, with the exception of the change of seasons. Those first days of fall, the hushed quiet of winter and the snow that came along with it. The hint of spring and the budding flowers, accompanied by new needles sprouting on the majestic pines.
And those first real warm days of early summer—those were the days most pungent with the familiar piney smell. He imagined the trees braced themselves in preparation for those long hot days, days when there was so much potential for them to be destroyed.
Damn, he was feeling poetic all over a bunch of pine trees. Maybe he was the drunk one.
“You’d think after living here my entire life I wouldn’t notice either.” Wren shook her head. “But I always can. They’re my favorite part of living here. If I moved, where would I find a tree that smells as good as the ones that surround my hometown?”
“If you moved to Oregon or Washington, you could find plenty of pine trees,” he pointed out as they drew closer to his car. He pulled the keyless remote out of his front pocket and hit the button to unlock the doors.
“True. I don’t think I want to go that far though.”
He opened the door for her. “You want to leave Wildwood? Is that what you’re telling me?”
She climbed into his car, her gaze meeting his once she was settled in. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve been thinking about it.”
Huh. That would change a few things. If she was leaving, then he wouldn’t have to worry about her seeking something long term. They could mess around for that brief period of time until she left. No harm, no foul.
He liked the sound of that. A lot.
Slamming the passenger door, he jogged around the front of the car and opened his door, sliding in behind the steering wheel. He started the car, threw it into Reverse, and was about to back out of the spot when Wren reached out and rested her hand on his arm.
Tate met her gaze, taking in her grave expression, how serious her eyes looked. “What’s up?”