Forbidden Fling (Wildwood 1)

Inside the warehouse was dark and cool.

“Ethan?” Her voice echoed and went unanswered.

Delaney let the door close behind her, relaxing into the break from the heat. Arms crossed, her gaze fell on the sofa again, and she closed her eyes remembering the feel of him pulling her down on top of him to rest. To cuddle. To just . . . be.

And she sighed. Glancing at her phone for the tenth time, she wandered toward the workbench where he’d been sitting when she’d come in. A spiral-bound notebook lay open with Ethan’s handwriting scribbled across the page.

She’d run numbers enough in her days at Pacific Coast to see someone trying to work a budget when she saw it, and she took a closer look at his figures. It took her only a minute to realize he was trying to pool all his assets.

She wandered around the bench to the other side, where a role of blueprints pulled her.

After another glance out the window with no sight of his truck, Delaney sighed, frustrated with the wait, with the unknown, and pulled the prints from the cardboard tube. All building projects going through the city’s planning process were considered public domain, so Delaney decided to give Ethan fifteen minutes to show while occupying herself with a look at another one of Ethan’s jobs.

Uncurling the thick set of plans, Delaney smoothed the broad sheets out on the workbench and scanned the site plan. The proposed project site was located at the corner of Main Street and Vine Street, smack in the middle of downtown’s hottest tourist area.

She let a low whistle slide through her teeth. “Pricey digs.”

Talk about location. This one was prime with foot traffic out front, parking out back, and room to expand.

She turned the page, eager to see what would be going into that space. Probably another new restaurant. Or maybe a winery tasting room.

The first two pages showed front, side, and rear elevations of the building. It was an attractive colonial design, one with modern flair that would fit in well with the quaint, upscale feel of downtown while still standing apart.

When she turned to the third page, she found the floor plans. Her gaze traveled over the layout, but confusion blocked her thought path. She had to shake her head and look again.

And again she found the same thing—a small restaurant area with a long bar in the front space. But it was the back of the building that had Delaney narrowing her eyes to read the callouts for the different areas.

Cold storage, walk-in cooler, malt room, grain rack.

Fermenters.

Barrels.

“A brew house?” Her words broke the quiet, making her realize she’d spoken out loud. She lifted her gaze and settled them on Ethan’s top-grade grain mill, the mashing tun, boiling kettles, fermenting tanks, digital control station, bottling center . . .

She cut a look back at the plans, searched the edge for the project information, and found the project title: Wildcard Brews. Then the client’s name: Ethan Hayes.

Her stomach took a direct hit.

Ethan was building a brewpub in downtown Wildwood?

“I might know someone who’d be interested in buying your liquor license.”

Alarm sang through her belly. But her heart immediately rejected the possibility of him using her, manipulating her, purposely misleading her like that.

Still, she couldn’t dismiss the sickening lump in her throat.

Could his family be so skilled at the art of deception that they’d split up and played her on both sides? Ethan getting close and gaining her trust, making her feel safe while Austin and Jack drove her into Ethan’s arms, hoping he could seduce her into the decision they wanted?

“No-no-no-no.” A wave of dizziness made her sway, and she closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her head. Her stomach was clenched so tight it felt as if she had a knife stuck in her gut. “Breathe.”

She didn’t want to believe Ethan was capable of that. Didn’t want to believe she could mean that little to him. A big part of her soul needed him to be different.

Delaney opened her eyes and thumbed through the remaining pages of the blueprints to determine how far he’d gotten into the process, her fingers clumsy with nerves. And she quickly found what she’d feared—the plans were complete, right down to the architectural engineers’ additional drawings and the architect’s signature.

These plans were ready for submittal. And they’d been finalized just a week before.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, her air whooshing out of her lungs. Her shoulders sagged, and her knees buckled with the weight of the boulder in her stomach. Delaney rested her elbows on the workbench and her head in her hands.