Wild Kisses (Wildwood 2)

It was true. Her heart may not believe it, but facts were facts, and she couldn’t deny she had what millions of people wanted—a chance to follow her passion.

She’d just never imagined following that passion without a man she loved beside her. For Avery, love had always trumped money or status or fame or success. Love had always been worth sacrifice and hard work. And here she was with everything but the one thing that had always mattered most. Which only made her even more grateful for the way Delaney and Phoebe had rallied around her with unconditional support.

As she ducked her head beneath the hot stream of water and closed her eyes, Avery didn’t see lighted glass pastry cases lining the lobby of Wild Harts. She saw Trace and all the mixed expressions she’d read on his face tonight.

“He’s not in your stratosphere.” Reminding herself out loud helped a little. “And you don’t want the mess of a man anyway.”

Now, that rang true. After David, she didn’t even know if she believed in love anymore. At least not true love. If such a thing existed, she doubted her jaded heart was capable of trusting enough to experience it.

No. She absolutely did not want the mess of a man in her life.

He would forever be a fuck-up.

Trace cranked the handle on his ancient truck to lower the window and let the October air blow across his overheated body.

The road was all but deserted at 10:00 p.m., giving him plenty of time to replay that asinine move he’d made with Avery.

The renovation of her café was the most important job he’d had since he’d gotten out of prison and reestablished his contractor’s license. He couldn’t blow it by messing around with his employer, no matter how badly he wanted her. He’d spent the last eight years painstakingly hauling his life out of the gutter with an impeccable work record, a perfect credit record, and a pristine criminal record. He rarely drank, never used drugs, and chose his buddies carefully. In fact, Trace’s only “fun” fell into the hot, young chicks category. But his desire for other women had tanked since he’d set eyes on Avery.

“Stupid sonofabitch.”

His cell rang. He pulled it from his belt on the third ring, didn’t recognize the number, and by the time he’d decided to pick up, the call had gone to voice mail. Better anyway—he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone.

He rested his elbow on the open window ledge and rubbed a hand down his face, letting it rest on his mouth. His memory flooded with the feel of her long, slim fingers between his lips. Of the raw, open look of lust on her pretty face.

Trace closed his eyes for a brief second and moaned. Hot blood pooled between his legs, tightening his cock. “Stupid fucking sonofabitch.”

He slowed in front of the sheriff’s substation and turned into the parking lot. He stopped next to a cruiser in the first row, shut off his truck, and stared at the double doors he’d entered far too often in his younger years.

The thought brought reality into full focus. Avery was a beautiful woman, just flowering into life now that she’d shed a neglectful, selfish husband. She deserved fun and freedom. She deserved the experience of dating that she’d missed when she was young. She deserved happiness.

And Trace was nothing but a stain.

He shoved the door open and stopped short when a woman with big brown eyes looked up from the computer at the front desk.

Fuck me.

The moment the thought crossed his mind, he wished he could wipe it clean, because that was exactly what the woman had done.

“Well, hey there, Trace.”

Discomfort balled at the center of his chest. Trace pushed his hands into his pockets. “Cindy. Didn’t know you worked here.”

“You would have if you’d returned my calls.”

Great. Fucking great. This just topped off his night.

Trace wasn’t going to pull any punches here. When it came to women, he played straight and clean—at least he had until it came to Avery. “We talked about that.”

Cindy sighed and offered a halfhearted smile.

“A girl can dream.”

“Can you let Zane know I’m—”

“Hey.” Zane stood in the doorway to the foyer. He always looked so stern in his uniform. So unlike the little brother Trace used to wrestle into the dirt as kids. Zane darted a look between Cindy and Trace, then said, “Come on back.”

As they walked down the hall, Zane shot Trace a look over his shoulder and muttered, “Is there a woman in town you haven’t slept with?”