Forbidden Fling (Wildwood 1)

“He hit on you?”

“Relentlessly. Which is no jewel in my crown. The man hit on every female within a ten-block radius between the ages of eighteen and fifty-eight.” She made a disgusted sound. “I miss my job, but getting away from him was the best thing I’ve done in years.”

“Why didn’t you file a harassment suit?”

“Because his parents didn’t want the family name tainted. They swore if I did, they’d drag it out in the courts so long whatever settlement I got would be eaten up by lawyers. They swore I’d never work in the industry again. I decided to take my experience and move on. Little did I know how difficult that was going to be.”

“Jeez, nothing like an employer’s appreciation of a job well done.”

She laughed softly. “Right?”

He believed her. Call him gullible, call him suckered, but he believed in the beautiful soul he’d always believed her to be when others believed the worst.

He ran his fingers over her cheek, collected a wayward strand of hair, and tucked it behind her ear. “And what’s in your future, Delaney Hart?”

Another heavy sigh. “I’d rather not think about the future or the past. Because I’m feeling pretty damn perfect in the present.”

Ethan’s heart swelled.

He hugged her close, his heart brimming with emotion, his body bursting with sensation, his soul teeming with joy. “I was thinking the same thing.”

She lifted her eyes to his. “Thank you. For understanding.” She stroked her hand down the side of his face and her thumb over his lower lip. “You are . . . so special.”

“Thank you for forgiving my insecurity and doubt.”

She stretched to press her lips to his, soft and sweet, then rested her head against his shoulder with a sigh of utter contentment, something he would never have guessed possible given the state in which she’d arrived. And the fact that he’d provided that contentment, that he’d been able to settle her from the spin, made her feel safe in a crisis . . . hell, that meant everything to him.

But while Ethan’s brain was busy trying to figure out just how he could possibly have both Delaney and his pub while giving her the financial security she needed with The Bad Seed, she murmured, “I should go.” Then she wrapped her arm around his waist, snuggled closer and murmured, “I just need five more Ethan-minutes.”

He chuckled and settled in, prepared to give her as many Ethan-minutes as she wanted, because Delaney didn’t just make him happy. She made him happier than he’d ever believed he could be.

FOURTEEN

Ethan’s phone chimed for what felt like the millionth time in the last hour, but he stuck with his pattern of ignoring it. His gaze blurred over the drinks inside the cooler at Finley’s Market, and chilled air flowed over th

e hot skin of his face.

I just need five more Ethan-minutes.

The phone vibrated to let him know someone left a message—probably Trace. Or Jodi because she’d gotten a call from Trace.

Ethan had been frozen in indecision for an hour. Which meant he’d actually made a decision to miss the inspection at The Bad Seed by default.

Delaney would be livid when she found out. And Ethan felt guilty about the problem the missed appointment would cause her—labor fees, rescheduling, time lost, material storage, and on and on. Yet evidently not enough to light a fire under his ass to make it to the site.

“Dude, you’re running up my electricity bill.”

The voice at his shoulder made Ethan jump. He jerked a look over his shoulder and found Caleb grinning at him. “You’re lucky I don’t have a bad heart.”

“Did you find the answer to the universe in there?” He looked into the cooler, too, and lifted his brows. “Or even better, this week’s lotto numbers?”

Ethan grabbed an iced tea and closed the cooler. Reality was becoming a real bitch. And he couldn’t manage the effort required to fake a good mood. “I wish.”

“Uh-oh. What happened now?” Caleb’s voice was filled with resignation. He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and propped his shoulder against the cooler’s frame. “And which one did it?”

The sight of tears sparkling on Delaney’s cheeks the night before flashed in his head.

Ethan planted one hand against the glass, clenched his other around the drink, and glared at the floor. “Austin. And . . . me.”