Forbidden Fling (Wildwood 1)

Yes, he had, and it had been one of the longest damn days of his life. A day filled with thoughts of Delaney. Of how badly she could hurt him. Of how badly she could hurt his family—again. A day of minutes passing as slowly as hours as his thoughts turned to their night together, to how badly he wanted to feel her touch, her kiss, her body against his. When he shouldn’t have been thinking about her at all.

Ethan shook his head, lifting a drumstick to his mouth. “Forget it, Mom.” He deliberately took the spotlight away from his father in an attempt to actually enjoy his Sunday dinner with the family for a change. “How’s the investment world, Uncle Wayne?”

“Oh, depends.” He put down his fork, picked up his wine, and started talking about some type of stock being compromised by a merger. Ethan’s eyes glazed over within thirty seconds, but the way Wayne went on and on gave Ethan a chance to eat while the others finished off their desserts. “Ethan, you should really look at real estate investment. Finish up that cottage of yours, sell it for a profit, and do something with that cash.”

“I was working on just that when I was called away. See, I’ve got two schedules, Uncle Wayne—my regular schedule and the mayor’s favor schedule.”

“And the best use of Ethan’s time,” Jack cut in, “is putting one hundred percent focus on those schedules. Do you have a demolition contractor lined up for the Hart property? I want them on-site at dawn with a wrecking ball the day their deadline runs out.”

Ethan looked at his mom. “This is amazing.” He traded the chicken bone for his napkin and wiped his hands, then his mouth. “You did something different—I can tell.”

His mother beamed, clasping her hands under her chin. “I didn’t think you’d notice. No one else did.”

“Oh, hell yeah. How could you not notice? It’s got deeper, richer flavor. The spices . . . I don’t know—they’re just perfectly balanced. The coating is crunchy but tender. The meat is juicy.” He picked up another piece. “What’d you do?”

She laughed. Giggled, actually. “You know that Octoberfest that you thought bombed, and I asked you to bring me some because I know you never—”

&n

bsp; “Make a bad beer.” He grinned. “Yes.”

“Well, I was reading about beer pairings and how the Octoberfest had all the perfect elements to balance with fried chicken, so I combined the brine and the buttermilk and added a few bottles of Octoberfest and marinated it overnight.”

He sat back, wiping his mouth again. “No way.”

“Yep.” She leaned her forearms on the table, her eyes twinkling with delight.

She was so proud of herself, and Ethan was touched that using his beer brought her such pleasure. She was the only one in the family who gave a damn about his deepest passion. A passion she used to share with Ethan and Pops before the tragedy split their family. The only one who still asked after Pops’s well-being.

Ethan covered her hand with his. “I want the recipe.”

“You haven’t even started renovating your kitchen,” Austin said. “You can barely cook macaroni and cheese in what you’ve got.”

Ethan didn’t look away from his mom as he batted the air at his ear. “Is there a gnat in here? There’s something whining in my—”

Austin shoved Ethan’s shoulder. Adam laughed.

Ethan cut a look toward his brother, who was usually outfitted in his deputy’s uniform. “Why aren’t you on duty?”

He had that shit-eating grin on his face. “My day off.”

Ethan lifted his hands in a what’s-up-with-that gesture, then turned his gaze on his cousin. “What about you, Adam? The lumberyard ever give you a day off?”

His cousin grinned. “Two days. Every week.”

“Huh.” He challenged his father’s dry expression. “Funny how that works.”

He chanced a glance at Ellen. She’d given up on the patterns and set down her fork. Now she just sat there like a zombie, her arms crossed, staring at nothing.

An old, familiar guilt tore at Ethan’s heart. He couldn’t even imagine having children, let alone losing one, so he couldn’t even begin to conceive the depths of despair Ellen had suffered since Ian’s death.

He looked at Wayne, but his uncle didn’t have an answer to Ethan’s silent question of whether or not his aunt was okay. Instead he brought up the last topic Ethan thought ought to be discussed, considering Ellen’s current state of distress.

“I heard you did a walk-through on the bar with Delaney Hart.”

Crap. Word in this town traveled at freaking warp speed. He’d been half expecting Pops to bring it up earlier.

Ellen’s gaze flickered back to the present. Her watery hazel eyes darted to Ethan’s face, then away.