Forbidden Fling (Wildwood 1)

“Yeah.” Ethan picked up his waffle, but he’d suddenly lost his appetite. He tore at the bread to give his hands something to do. “Nothing official.”

“What are her plans?” Wayne asked.

“Her plans don’t matter,” Jack said. “That building is coming down. Ethan will see to it—”

“Dad. Don’t make promises for me. I have rules—laws—I have to follow.”

“Bullshit.” His father sat forward, and the stare he leveled on Ethan was that you’ll-do-it-or-else look. “You have a lot of leeway in your position. A lot of power. And there is no place for that eyesore or that woman in this community.” He tapped the tabletop with a rigid index finger to emphasize his point. “That building has to come down, and she has to go.”

Ethan sighed and popped a piece of waffle in his mouth. Once he’d finished the bite, he said, “You know, it’s ironic if you think about it.”

“What is?”

“That you’re the reason Delaney Hart is back in town. And you’re the reason she’s looking at the bar. Yet you’re the person most interested in seeing them both gone. That’s called irony.”

Wayne’s gaze dropped to the table, but Ellen’s questioning frown turned on Jack.

God, his family was so screwed up.

Jack flashed an indignant look between Ellen and Ethan. “I didn’t—”

“It was your visual nuisance ordinance that forced the Harts to do something with the property,” Ethan said. “If you’d never pushed that law, Delaney wouldn’t have come back, and she sure as hell wouldn’t be messing with that bar.”

“Jack,” his mother said, her voice troubled. “You told me the citizens brought that ordinance to the city council.”

“They did. That ordinance is a mandate for the people by the people.”

“Some people just have louder voices and bigger wallets.” Adam speared a strawberry, then looked at Wayne. “Ain’t that right, Dad?”

Ellen’s gaze snapped to her husband. “Wayne?”

He wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders, pulling her close, and treated all the men at the table to a glare. “And to think we almost got through a normal outing. Thanks, guys.”

“Thank Jack.” If there was one thing Ethan had learned over the last few years, it was to place blame—or credit—where it belonged. “Someone reminded me recently that at the end of the day all roads lead to the mayor—right, Dad?”

“Shut your mouth,” his father bit out.

Ethan stuffed another piece of waffle in his mouth to keep himself from adding fuel to the fire.

His mother stood as Wayne helped Ellen to her feet and started toward the front door.

Adam heaved a sigh, stood, and fist-bumped Austin and Ethan. “Later, dudes.”

Once they were all out of the room, Austin pushed his plate back, crossed his arms on the table, and leaned forward, smirking at Ethan. “Way to clear a room, bro.”

Ethan shook his head. “Not me.” He pointed at Jack with the remainder of his waffle. “Him.”

One look at the fury stewing on his father’s face and Ethan grabbed his tea off the table. Jack’s fist slammed the wood, rattling all the silver and glassware like an earthquake.

“Whoa . . .” Austin shoved his chair back, but not quickly enough, and the liquid spilled into his lap. “Jesus Christ, Dad.”

Austin’s fumbling attempt to stop the spill of tea was just the comic relief needed to break the stress, and Ethan started laughing.

“Don’t ever talk to me like that in front of other people again.” Jack’s irate demand cut through the chaos, but it didn’t faze Ethan. He’d experienced every level of his father’s rage.

Ethan’s laugh at Austin eased into a chuckle. “Extend me the same courtesy, Mayor, and I’ll consider it.”

Jack shot to his feet, face scrunched in a furious scowl, lips pursed to form words—scathing, condescending, demanding words, Ethan knew from experience—just as his mother turned into the dining room.