If he kept that up, she’d have to ask him to stop, because it was completely irritating and made him seem like a total sissy.
“Did he hurt you?” she asked.
Levi shook his head reluctantly. “I’m fine. Just startled more than anything.”
She couldn’t make herself say sorry. That was for Lane to do, though she knew he wouldn’t. “What did you want to talk about?”
“My offer. Did you consider it?” he asked hopefully.
“I did.” She hesitated, and the light dimmed from his eyes, like she just snuffed out a candle. “I . . . I can’t do it, Levi. We had our teenage moment years ago, and it was great, but we can never return to that sort of relationship. I’d like us to remain friends though.”
Sighing, he slipped his hands into his pockets and offered her a sad smile. “I understand. I expected too much. Probably got caught up in memories more than anything else.”
“Probably,” she agreed, not letting his comment sting. He was being honest, as was she. And she had Tate. She didn’t need Levi.
“I’m sorry if I scared you. That was never my intent.” He reached out for her, then dropped his arms, seemingly embarrassed. She went to him instead and hugged him close.
“I’m thrilled that you’ve found so much success, Levi. I’m sure someday soon you’ll find a special woman to share it with,” she murmured close to his ear.
“Thanks, Wren.” He squeezed her before he let her go and stepped away. “Take care, okay?”
“You too. Are you headed back to San Francisco now?”
“Yeah, wanted to leave tonight. Need to get back to work in the morning.” The answer and his sheepish smile revealed what she’d suspected. Her ex was a complete workaholic. He would probably make a girl extremely happy someday, but right now, he was devoted to his job. “Let’s keep in touch?”
“Let’s make sure you have the right phone number for me first,” she suggested.
They discovered the number he entered for her was off by one digit, and they got a good laugh out of it before he left town for good. She watched his car disappear down the street and then turned her attention to Lane. He was leaning against his car, tapping away on his phone.
“You’re not off the hook,” she told him.
He glanced up from his phone with a grimace. “I did nothing wrong, Wren. More like I was in the right place at the right time.”
“Whatever. I’m eating my dinner, and you’re going to explain to me exactly what’s going on,” she told him as she started for the front door.
“I gotta get home,” h
e protested, but she silently glared at him, earning a muttered—and reluctant—all right as he followed her to the front door.
She was determined to get to the bottom of Lane’s odd behavior before the night was over.
Chapter Eighteen
WREN GAPED AT her brother, trying her best to come up with something to say but failing miserably. What he was telling her was unbelievable.
Oh, and maddening—completely and totally infuriating, really.
She was sitting at Tate’s tiny kitchen table with her oldest brother, trying to eat her dinner while listening to Lane explain the craziest story she’d ever heard. Why would someone be after her? What had she ever done to anyone? Absolutely nothing.
That’s why what Lane said made no sense.
“Tate and Josh wanted to tell you right away,” Lane said after he informed her that the reason her house burned down was because of the Wildwood arsonist—and they believed she might’ve been specifically targeted. “But West and I thought it best if we kept you out of it for a little while. See if we could finally nab the arsonist first before you had to get—involved.”
Swallowing hard, she finally found her voice. “So you believed it was . . . what? In my best interests I was kept in the dark about some nut job who burned down my house and, oh, I don’t know, might still be after me? That sounded like a good idea to you and West, the overlords of my life? Really?”
Lane winced. “When you put it like that . . . ”
“You’re an asshole,” she said, interrupting him. She slapped the edge of the table, hurting her fingers in the process. Great. “And so is West. Did you two really think I wouldn’t be able to handle it? Like I’m some delicate flower who’d freak out if she knew a big, bad, scary man burned her house down on purpose?”