Wild Kisses (Wildwood 2)

“He made a mistake a decade ago—so did I. He’s been paying for it ever since—so have I. We may have lived in different kinds of prisons, but I’ve been there, too. And in my opinion, scars only make people work not to screw up their lives again so they can get to where they want to be.”

Resignation settled into her sister’s eyes. “Okay.” She nodded. “You’ve got your head on straight.” Delaney’s lips twisted, and she gave Avery a sassy smirk. “So? Does he live up to the rumors?”

Avery’s neck and cheeks flushed with heat, and she couldn’t hold back the smile that filled her face. “Surpasses every one.”

Delaney burst out laughing, and Avery laughed with her. Her sister reached out and stroked her hair. “You deserve some good after what you’ve been through. Just . . . be careful.”

“Let me go get some work done so this business doesn’t fall flat on its face.”

Avery pulled the door open, eager to escape the awkwardness of telling her big sister she’d had a one-night stand with her contractor. A lot of women Avery’s age slept around, but this was all new to her, and she was feeling seventeen again in a lot of ways. Only this seventeen do-over was way better the second time around.

“Hey,” Delaney said. “Have you heard from Chloe?”

Their youngest sister and the true nomad of the family only touched base when she needed money. “She’s not calling me back, probably because she knows the café has bled me dry. You might want to have Phoebe try.”

Delaney nodded.

On the way to the Jeep, Avery blew her sister a kiss and climbed into the SUV. But she didn’t bother to snap on her seat belt for the quick ride around the block to her next stop: Finley’s Market.

She parked in the small lot and pulled the color-coded plastic totes out of the back and stacked them, feeling lighter now that she’d gotten that little secret off her shoulders. And it also felt so good to have a sister who cared so much about her—financially and emotionally—that she was supporting her in every way.

Avery thought of Chloe again. Maybe she’d call and offer Chloe a job at the café. It would be so nice to have all of them together.

With a spark of hope for her day, she crouched to gather the totes.

“Ms. Hart.” The voice was male and smooth and attractive, but it didn’t

give her the warm fuzzies.

She released the handles on the totes and glanced toward the man, squinting against the bright morning sun. A cop strolled toward her in a familiar navy uniform. Her mind jumped to Zane, Trace’s brother, but he would never call her Ms. Hart, and his voice was warm and happy. Then the man’s head cut into the path of the sunlight and his face came into view, and everything made sense.

“Austin.” That was as much of a greeting as this asshole was going to get. He may have been Ethan’s brother, but he wasn’t even in the same gene pool as far as the Hart family was concerned.

She picked up her totes and started inside. Austin stepped into her path and grinned. “I think you meant Deputy Hayes.”

Her instincts clicked on, and her walls went up.

She frowned at him over the top of a tote and pretended to think a moment. “You know, I can still remember the first time I saw you. It was in the first grade. All the other boys were out on the yard playing ball, and you were sitting on the benches all alone picking your nose and eating the snot.” When the shock registered, and his grin tightened, she said, “So, no, I didn’t mean Deputy Hayes. Somehow with that image in my mind, you will forever be Austin to me. Now you have a great day.”

She sidestepped him, making a quick path into the market.

“Avery,” he called after her.

“Hey, Rita.” She ignored Austin and greeted the middle-aged cashier, hurrying through the swinging door leading behind the counter. “I’ve got more goodies for you.”

Austin’s boots sounded on the old hardwood of the historical building a few seconds later, stopping near the counter.

“Avery.” His tone had gone from solicitous condescension to you’d-better-obey-me-right-now. “I need to speak with you.”

Pretend, pretend, pretend. Avery had gotten so good at pretend, sometimes she pretended herself right out of reality. But here, pretend would come in handy. Here, she had to pretend to be that “Army Strong” that Trace saw in her.

“Sorry, Austin, I’m running behind schedule. No time to chat.”

She kept her back to him and settled the totes on the floor, crouching to unpack the various brownies, fudge, truffles, and other goodies she’d already cut and stabbed with pretty, bright toothpicks or wrapped in gold foil for tasting. Pulling out the clear plastic cake plates she kept under the counter, she focused on breathing steadily as she arranged them, making sure her marketing sign with the title of the item and the Wild Harts logo was secure and she had plenty of business cards and brochures to lay out.

“I’m not here to chat, and this is not negotiable.” His boots stepped into her peripheral vision on the left. His voice sounded directly overhead, quivering down her neck.

Oh, he was so testing her patience. And her strength. And her nerves. But she lifted her voice as if she didn’t notice his attitude and this was all just foolery between friends. “Then you best have your handcuffs out and a charge handy, because,” she finished in a singsong, “I’m a busy woman.”