Ignite (Wildwood 1)

They weren’t even in the same freaking book.

She stiffened and curled her hands into fists, pushing him away from her. He went stumbling back, the shock on his face obvious. How stupid could she be? Falling for his lines? Letting him kiss her again?

Clearly he made her stupid. Like, unbelievably stupid. And she wasn’t a stupid person. Though when it came to men, maybe she was. She felt all over the place. From calm, stable Roger to sexy, outrageous West—what in the world was she doing?

SHIT, SHIT, SHIT. Why’d he have to go and say that? Harper was looking at him like she wanted to rip his head off when only moments ago she’d been in his arms, his mouth on her smooth, soft neck, savoring all those sweet little sighs she made. It was just as good between them as the last time they’d kissed. No surprise. But she was sweet and warm and giving and so incredibly responsive. She wanted more from him. She didn’t have to say it, but he knew. And she deserved to be with a man who wanted to give her more.

He didn’t think he could be that man.

Running a hand through his hair, he kept space between them, waiting for her to grab her purse off the floor and leave. He wouldn’t blame her. Couldn’t hold it against her if she made her escape. Not that he wanted her to leave, but . . .

If she stayed, he’d fuck her. She deserved more than that, a quick fuck. And that was all he was good for. All he could offer. Permanency wasn’t a part of his vocabulary. Being with a girl, having a relationship? He’d never really experienced one beyond high school stuff and that didn’t count. Once he graduated and started working for Cal Fire, he’d never had time for a steady girlfriend. Ever.

He was twenty-eight years old and had no idea how to make a relationship work. How pitiful was he?

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings by saying that, Harper,” he started, but she glared at him, making his lips clamp shut. Damn it, he needed to get this out. Reassure her that it wasn’t her, but him. “It’s just . . . you deserve someone better than me.”

She made a face. “Give me a break. Are you serious?”

Great, here she went, calling him out on his shit. Not that he didn’t deserve it. “I’m not what anyone would call boyfriend material.” That sounded lame. He scratched the side of his head, uncomfortable with the way she studied him. Like he was a bug pinned on a board, wiggling and desperate to make his escape. “Plus, you just came out of a long relationship. You have to agree trying to dive back into another one probably isn’t the smartest move.”

Her mouth dropped open, her upper lip curled in the slightest sneer. “Awfully arrogant, aren’t you? Assuming I’d want to call you my boyfriend after one measly kiss?”

He blinked, surprised at her tone. She didn’t sound like the Harper he knew. Not even close. “Isn’t that what you—”

Harper interrupted him with a very firm shake of her head. “No, West. I never said I wanted to be in a relationship with you. You haven’t been home in almost eight years. I hardly know you—or should I say the you that you are now.”

“So what are you saying? That you want to hook up with me?” He started to chuckle, the idea so unfathomable, he could hardly wrap his head around it. Harper Hill didn’t hook up with anyone. He couldn’t imagine getting her into his bed, fucking her brains out, and then never really talking to her again. One, she wouldn’t stand for it. And two . . .

Well.

Maybe he could imagine getting her into his bed. And fucking her brains out. All night long. Enjoying every single minute of having her naked and beneath him, sweaty and clinging to him while she cried out his name as he pounded deep inside her. Okay, yeah, he could definitely imagine that. But could he see himself walking away from her afterward?

No. He cared about her too much—as a friend. And that was why friends with such a long, shared history couldn’t hook up. Too much other stuff had the potential to come between them.

For one, his sister would probably kill him if he hurt Harper. Her grandma would kick him out of his condo for screwing around with her granddaughter. If his parents ever found out, they’d be horrified. The entire town would gossip about them. His brothers would think he was crazy.

This could never work. Ever.

“If you’re going to just stand there and laugh, I definitely don’t want to hook up with you. Ever.” She bent and grabbed her purse off the floor, slinging it over her shoulder almost violently as she turned her back to him. “Thanks for the pizza. Good night.”

“Harper,” he started, but it was too late. She slipped through the door and slammed it behind her, leaving a fragrant cloud of her scent surrounding him. A delicious mixture of her lotion, shampoo, and perfume. “Damn it,” he muttered, pacing around the front entryway, growling with frustration when he heard her car start outside.

Not the way he wanted to end his evening with Harper. He’d fucked it up royally.

But what else was new?

Chapter Eight

SATURDAY NIGHT. HARPER desperately needed a break, a way to escape her thoughts. Bad enough she was working on such a tedious project at

her grandma’s restaurant. Cleaning out old filing cabinets was not exciting in the least. Worse? With nothing much to focus on, her mind was always filled with West. West smiling at her when they agreed on a paint color. West goading her into eating more pizza dipped in disgusting, delicious ranch. West telling her he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her.

West actually kissing her . . . only to ruin it by opening his big mouth and saying the stupidest stuff imaginable. She’d run out on him and hadn’t looked back. He’d hadn’t called her, texted her, nothing. It had been nothing but radio silence.

Granted, it had been only twenty-four hours since she saw him last, but still. It felt like longer. Much longer.

So when Delilah texted asking if she wanted to go out to dinner, Harper immediately said yes. She waited for her friend at the restaurant now, a tiny, trendy place with beautifully simple menus that elegantly described salads and sandwiches and served chilled glasses of wine. The sort of place that appealed to tourists, where locals rarely stopped in to eat, it was the perfect setting for Harper’s much-needed escape.