Forbidden Fling (Wildwood 1)

An hour later, sitting on the bottom stair leading to the second floor, Delaney lifted the piece of salvaged maple she’d picked up at Reclaimed Wild Wood in town; held it beside the banister she’d stripped, sanded, and stained to match; and shone her work light on them, looking at the two from different angles.

And smiled. “Perfect.”

She set the light down, pulled out her phone, and dialed. While she waited for the answering machine to pick up, she imagined the bar floored in this light, bright, gorgeous, variegated maple. It would be unexpected. A shocker. Once she put in all the other finishes, this place was going to be a showstopper.

That strange sense of pride welled again. But this time she smiled. She deserved to smile. This was going to be incredibly special. She didn’t even care if anyone else thought it was special or not. It was special to her. Somehow, in some way, it quieted a very pained piece of her heart.

“Hello?”

Bruce’s voice startled Delaney out of her thoughts, and her smile fell. “Oh, hey, Bruce. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I didn’t expect you to pick up. I just wanted to leave a message.”

“No problem. I answer when I can. I’m in the workshop. Who’s this?”

“Delaney.”

“How’d that maple work out?”

“Perfect.” She smiled again, then grew suddenly worried and nervous and closed her eyes, hoping . . . “That’s why I’m calling. I know we talked about this, but before I buy five thousand square feet of this stuff, I just need you to verify its origination.”

“All done. I even have a signed statement of authentication, which is about as good as we can get in these situations.”

Delaney did a silent little cheer and dance. “That’s all I need. Hold that five thousand for me. I’ll be in tomorrow. And, Bruce? Can you keep this purchase between us for now?”

She hadn’t explained why she wanted the wood or what made it special for this renovation, so when he paused and gave her that confused, “Uh, sure,” she wasn’t surprised.

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

Delaney disconnected and held up the wood again, happy with the color match.

Tires on the gravel brought her gaze up, just as headlights swept across the front of the building. But the vehicle was out of sight, and her heart hitched with the hope of seeing Ethan. Then dropped at the thought of starting yet another argument.

She set down the wood and recapped her stain and mineral spirits. By the time she was putting away her rags and sandpaper, footsteps sounded on the porch. Heavy footsteps. Footsteps of a big man wearing big, hard-soled boots. Not the kind she’d seen Ethan wear.

The hair on the back of Delaney’s neck prickled and gooseflesh rose on her arms. Instinct had her reaching for a hammer and pushing to her feet as the door opened.

But when Austin filled the doorway, in a pristine navy uniform shoulders to toes, a thick gun belt hanging low on his hips, Delaney knew the hammer wouldn’t do any good. The only thing that would help her with a man like Austin was what she’d learned as a troubled teen.

So she dug up that cunning little street kid, who’d gotten a lot of polish over the years.

“Good evening, Deputy.” Twirling the hammer, she wandered to the nearest toolbox, set it inside, and closed the lid. “I expected your visit a few days ago.”

“You’re not that important in my world.”

“Good to hear. What can I do for you?”

“You can get out of town like I told you to last week.”

She turned to face him, crossed her arms, and leaned her back against the bar. “That would be the same time I explained that I’m here because—”

“I don’t give a damn why you’re here.”

He advanced, stepping into her personal space. Everything from the superior look in his dark eyes to his arrogant posture screamed he had a serious self-confidence issue. His bullying only confirmed it.

“If you were looking for allies in this town,” he said, voice dripping with contempt, “you are definitely fucking the wrong brother. Ethan’s always been the pussy of the family.”

Shock stung Delaney’s stomach, and she had to use all her skills not to show it. Her insides rattled with betrayal, tension, fear, but she reminded herself that Austin couldn’t see any of that. He could see only what she showed him.

“But he’s my brother, so the fact that you’re fucking with his head really pisses me off. Me, on the other hand . . .” His index finger scooped beneath both her tank and her bra strap, and Delaney’s throat tightened. “I have all the pull, all the power, and no one can fuck with my head.” His gaze lifted to hers. “So stop doing my pussy of a brother, start doing me, and not only will you get a taste of what a real man can give you but things might even start going your way.”