Forbidden Fling (Wildwood 1)

Austin?

Her gaze swung back to the man approaching with an arrogant swagger and a superior grin. And the chill in her chest twisted before frosting over. Austin Hayes had his father’s dark eyes and plastic veneer. Like Ethan, Austin had matured into an incredibly handsome man; unlike Ethan, Austin’s every breath screamed of compensation for some invisible shortcoming.

“No need to start off all hostile,” Austin told Trace. “Heard you were in town. Then I heard you were here with her.” He looked directly at Delaney, his smile nothing but a sneer now. “And I knew someone better check up on Wildwood’s two most notorious troublemakers. Now I’m glad I did, because this”—he wagged his index finger between them—“the druggie hanging out with the dealer—uh-uh. Not a good idea.”

Belligerence flared inside her like gas-fed flames. All the bad habits she’d wielded as a teen rushed forward and pushed to get out—the fight, the fury, the foul language, her love of confrontation.

Every muscle in her body tightened as she took one giant step toward Austin, mouth open, ready to tell him exactly what he could do with his accusations and his bullshit. But Trace stepped between them and halted her by the shoulder.

“Thanks for your opinion,” Trace told him without an ounce of gratitude. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re in the middle of a conversation.”

“I heard all about that, too.” Austin tucked his thumbs in his duty belt and never took his gaze off Delaney’s, but she caught sight of movement out front. “I’m just here to tell you not to waste your time planning anything other than a demolition, because nothing else will be happening here. Too many powerful people want to see this dump plowed under for you to think you’ll be seeing any Hail Mary resurrection—”

“I don’t know about that.” Another new voice joined the conversation, and Delaney’s heart jumped. Her gaze skidded toward the front door and rested on another cop. What in the hell? “If you can manage to pull rabbits out of your ass every goddamned day to save yourself, why can’t Delaney?”

This time when the man came into view, she recognized him as Trace’s younger brother, and Delaney breathed a little easier.

Austin twisted just enough to shoot Zane a bored look. “Hutton, why are you always such a pain in my ass?”

“Because you’re always just one step away from crossing the line, and if I can help you out by giving you a push, well then . . .” Zane grinned. “I’m here to serve.”

Austin huffed a dry laugh as if Zane were a ridiculous waste of time.

A rough, monotone female voice came over their radios, and both men went silent. Delaney still didn’t catch much of the scratchy transmission.

When the radio crackled into silence, Zane told Austin, “They’re playing your tune, bro.”

Austin muttered something into the radio on his shoulder and walked backward toward the door, pointing at Delaney, then Trace. “Trouble’s around every corner. Watch yourselves.”

When Austin’s cruiser sped out of the lot, Delaney heaved a breath, but she couldn’t unclench her teeth or uncurl her fists.

“He’s an asshole. What are you gonna do?” Zane said with a shrug, then saluted Delaney. “Good to see you. Say hi to Avery and Chloe for me. I’ll keep an ear open for Hayes’s location when I’m on duty, but just call if he comes back.”

Delaney smiled. “Thanks, Zane.”

“Yeah,” Trace said. “Thanks.”

He nodded once more and headed out the door.

Trace shook his head and met Delaney’s eyes. “It’s like a fucking stain. No one ever looks at you like a normal person again, do they?”

“What? The reputation?” Delaney looked out the door to the parking lot, where only Trace’s truck and her Jeep sat now. “I don’t know, but it sure seems like the past sticks hard. Unfortunately, both the truth and the lies seem to stick equally well.”

“Amen.”

Delaney thought of Ethan. Of his blind faith in her. Of his compassion and attraction, despite her reputation. She added, “But the good people will see through it. Your real friends, the special people that wander into your life, they’ll be able to separate out the bullshit. They’re your therapy. The ones who help you believe in your self-worth again. They’re the ones you want to keep.”

A lopsided smile turned his mouth, but pain dulled his eyes. “Maybe I’ll find one of those someday. Until then, work is my therapy. Do you still want to tackle this today?”

She nodded even though her gut ached with the realization that Ethan was one of those special people, but that she’d never be able to keep him in her life. A Hayes and a Hart were never meant to be friends, let alone anything more.

“The sooner I tackle this,” she said, “the sooner I can get the hell out of town.”

Ethan covered his latest mash and double-checked the temperature on the kettle, then grabbed a bottle of the chocolate stout he’d brewed a month before and dropped into the chair nearby. He thumbed backward in his brewing journal to the day he’d cooked up the stout, a beer he wanted to add to his opening lineup.

If he got the chance to have an opening lineup.

His mind immediately drifted to Delaney, and his stomach twisted the way it always did when he thought of her.