Smolder: The Wildwood Series (3 page)

Problem was, Lane didn’t believe he was that man.

“Who’s that?” Lane asked West, nodding toward the jackass talking to Delilah before he turned to face his brother.

“Ah, that’s the arson investigator I told you about. Josh Bailey.” West glanced in Josh and Delilah’s direction. “Looks like he’s getting cozy with our Dee.”

Everything inside him bunched up like a fist, threatening to burst free. “He needs to leave her alone.”

“Why, so you can make a move on her instead? Like that’s ever going to happen.” West actually snorted, then slapped Lane on the back. “I’m headed outside. I suggest you do the same.”

Lane didn’t move when West left him. He knew he should hightail his ass outside and find someone to talk with. Drink a few beers, share a few jokes and trade a few stories, and then guzzle some water to help sober him up before he headed home, ending yet another fun night all alone.

He knew he should do all of that, but he couldn’t move. Couldn’t stop swigging from his beer either, polishing it off in a few long swallows. Couldn’t stop staring at Delilah, greedily eating her up with his eyes. The skimpy white top with little straps crisscrossing across her back, showing off plenty of smooth skin . . . The tiny shorts that rode way too high on her thighs and showed off those sexy-as-fuck legs . . .

God, those legs. They’d had a starring role in his sweaty, lust-fueled dreams more than once. Spreading wide when he put his head between them. Wrapping around his hips as he plunged deep. He’d imagined taking Delilah approximately one million different ways over the past few years, and that still wasn’t enough. He wanted her. But it could never be anything serious. Never. Just fucking.

And she deserved more than that. More than what he could ever give her, that was for sure.

The sound of her soft laughter broke through his lust-induced spell and he shook his head, wishing he could shake her from his brain that easily. She was actually reaching out toward that Josh asshole, her hand on his chest, her head tipped back as she studied his face. Like maybe she enjoyed what she saw, what she heard, what she felt.

Grimacing, Lane turned and fled the kitchen, heading outside like the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels.

For once in his life, he wished he’d taken his brother’s advice.

Chapter Three

S
HE
’
D SUNK TO
a new low. Flirting with a nice man for the sole purpose of making another not-so-nice man jealous. How lame could she get?

Worse, she was dying of curiosity. Had her plan worked? Delilah couldn’t be 100 percent sure, but she’d caught the menacing scowl on Lane’s face just before he bolted outside. And she knew one thing.

He’d looked incredibly pissed.

Mad at her though? Well, if he was, then he could suck it. But if he was angry because she was talking to an unknown, rather attractive man who actually seemed interested in her? Well, then good.
Perfect.
That was exactly what she wanted.

Maybe her behavior was considered calculating, but she couldn’t help herself. Her feelings for Lane Gallagher and his lack of acknowledgment made her do really stupid things. She needed to focus on the here and now, not stress over a man she had no control of.

“How long are you here for?” she asked Josh to keep her mind off Lane. She’d been chatting up Josh for the past ten minutes and found him a tad reserved but friendly enough. The reserved part she blamed on his job occupation. Being an arson investigator meant having to deal with suspicious—and guilty—people all the time. Josh probably wasn’t big on trust, much like Lane. Being a cop meant he dealt with the liars and the dirty, dirty cheats of the world every single freaking day . . .

“I’m here for as long as I’m needed.” Josh smiled, bringing his beer bottle close to his lips. “Much of it depends on the investigation,” he added before he took a drink.

She watched him, quietly fuming that she thought of Lane—
again
—and wishing she could find this guy so outrageously attractive that he obliterated every thought from her head.

Not that he was a dog. No way. Women were going to trip over their tongues following this guy around town. New, handsome men were always welcomed. When West had first returned to Wildwood a few months ago, she’d known all the single women aged twenty to thirty-five were eager to welcome him home with open arms. But he’d immediately staked his claim on Harper, breaking many hearts.

Well, they were about to get their hopes up all over again when they caught sight of Josh. Fresh meat, they’d call him. He might end up regretting coming to Wildwood—or he might have the time of his life.

“So tell me.” His voice knocked her from her thoughts and she glanced up, offering him a polite smile. “What’s there to do around this town?”

“Not a whole lot,” she said almost apologetically. She could only imagine how small and maybe even pitiful her hometown might look to someone who’d never been here before. “Though if you like spending time outdoors, this is the place for you.”

“I saw the lake,” he said. “Made me wish I had a boat.”

“You could always rent one . . . for a very steep price.” The marinas always jacked up the prices during the summer months.

“I’ll pass. Though one of these guys here must have a boat, right?” Josh glanced around and so did Delilah, noting there was no one in the kitchen with them. Everyone was outside.

Her spine stiffened when she realized they were alone, though Josh wasn’t giving her any weird vibes. She just wasn’t a huge fan of being alone with unfamiliar men.

Scratch that. She wasn’t
used
to being alone with unfamiliar men.

Almost everyone she’d ever dated, spent time with, or whatever, she’d known through school, a mutual friend, a family member, or whomever. Small towns bred familiarity. “Yeah, a few of the guys own boats.”

“Which ones? I’ll buddy up with them so they can take me out on the lake while I’m here.” He laughed. She knew he was making a joke, but the only guy who came to mind was . . .

Lane. And last she’d noticed, he’d looked ready to tear Josh’s arms off. “Come with me outside and I’ll introduce you to a few of them.”

Not really. She planned on dumping Josh on West and then getting out of there. Going home so she could lick her self-inflicted wounds. She’d spent the past few hours quietly waiting for Lane to show up and the minute he had, he hadn’t said a word to her. Not that he could have, what with her flirting game and how she’d made sure she was occupied the entire time he’d lingered in the kitchen. Not her proudest moment . . . but crap.

She’d become a desperate woman acting like a lovesick teenager. And she was really starting to get sick of herself.

Making sure she was on her best behavior, she led Josh out to the backyard and left him with West, who happened to be standing with a bunch of other firefighters. Perfect. They could all talk shop and she could get the hell out of there. She sought out Harper, who was with Wren, and hugged both of her best friends, telling them she’d text them both tomorrow. And then she made a beeline for the house, stopping off in the guest bathroom real quick before she went home.

After washing her hands and smoothing damp hands over her ponytail to calm her frizzy hair, she opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom.

Only to collide with a solid wall of firm, warm muscle.

Delilah stumbled backward. Her heart rose to her throat when she stared into Lane’s face. His jaw was clenched, his usually full mouth a hard, thin line, and his eyes blazed with all sorts of emotions she didn’t want to name.

She parted her lips but no sound came. Cleared her throat. Made a second attempt. A third. Finally the words fell from her lips. “Excuse me.”

He didn’t budge. When he stood this close, she was always reminded just how big he was. Broad shoulders, wide chest, imposingly tall—so big she could barely see around him. He blocked out everything so all she could focus on was him.

“Lane.” The irritation in her voice was clear but he didn’t react. Didn’t so much as say a single word or even bat an eyelash. He just watched her in that unnervingly quiet way of his. She went right with a quick step, and so did he. Shifted left and he followed suit, not allowing her to escape. And right about now she was desperate to get away from him. What did he want? “Let me get by.”

“I want to talk to you first.” His voice was pitched exceptionally low, the sound reaching deep inside her and setting off a flurry of butterflies in her already jittery stomach.

“What about?” She tried to keep calm but she heard the slight tremble tinge her voice. Knew that if she held her hand out, it’d be shaking.

“Who was the guy?” When she frowned Lane continued. “The one you were talking to earlier. Who is he to you?”

Oh.
Oh.
Lane was jealous. She never thought she’d see the day. The triumph that surged through her could barely be contained. “He works for Cal Fire. He’s an investigator.” He had to know this. Surely West had told him. So why was he asking her?

“Right.” Lane nodded, like he already knew that. “Who is he to
you
, Dee?”

She really hated it whenever anyone called her Dee. Even Lane. “We were just talking,” she said irritably.

“He seemed interested.” Lane paused, the air heavy between them. “In you.”

“So what if he was?” She shrugged, hoping against hope he believed her casual attitude. Inside her heart was doing cartwheels over the fact that Lane Gallagher was acting like he might . . .

Care?

“You seemed interested too.” He sounded fierce. Downright hostile.

Meaning he was definitely jealous. She’d fully expected to be bouncing off the walls with glee right about now but instead she felt sort of bad. She didn’t necessarily want him to get the wrong idea. What if her pretend interest in Josh drove Lane away? And she didn’t want to lead Josh on either. “He’s nice.” She hesitated, hoping she would say the right thing. “I was just being friendly.”

“Flirting and touching him is your definition of being friendly?” Lane raised a brow, taking a step forward. Coming closer to her.

Touching-distance close.

Her heart started to race triple time and she stood a little straighter, lifting her chin. “Since when are you allowed to question me about the people I talk to?”

Shaking his head, he came even closer, forcing her to step back, her butt hitting the wall. “What are you doing, Delilah?”

“I could ask you the same question.” She took a deep breath and noted the way his gaze dropped to her chest for a fleeting moment, lingering there. She knew her breasts weren’t her best asset, but she thrust them out toward Lane anyway. “For a man who constantly claims he has no interest in me, you’re acting awfully possessive.”

S
HE WAS RIGHT
. Lane was behaving like a jealous, possessive asshole and he had no business acting that way. He had no claim on Delilah. It shouldn’t bother him to see her talking to another man.

But it had. The sight of her laughing with that Josh asshole, resting her hand on his chest for even those few seconds, had eaten Lane up inside. His gut still burned at the memory. He’d come close to socking the guy in the face for just looking at her, which was stupid.

Incredibly stupid.

Instead of getting into a brawl, he’d gone outside and stewed for a solid ten minutes, brooding like the lovesick fool he shouldn’t be. And once that guy—Josh—came out to join them, Lane hadn’t said a word to him beyond a curt hello. Instead, he’d kept his gaze glued on Delilah as she walked over to Wren and Harper and said good-bye. He hadn’t been able to pry his eyes off her long, tanned legs. The way she moved was so graceful, her posture perfect, her perky ass making his mouth water . . .

Lane closed his eyes briefly, trying his damnedest to ward off the vision, but it was so hard. No, he was hard. Hard for Delilah.

Jesus.
He was so screwed up over her. He’d downed a couple of beers in quick succession even though alcohol always made his feelings for her worse. So much worse. He needed water. He needed to sober up. He needed to walk away right now before he did something he might regret—

Delilah gasped when he touched her, his fingertips seeming to burn when they made contact with her cheek. For a moment he forgot himself. Let his fingers drift across her petal-soft skin. Skin he dreamed of touching. Kissing. Licking . . .

Her eyes fluttered shut when he brushed her plump lower lip with his thumb. He saw the subtle movement of her throat as she swallowed. She leaned toward him, leaned
into
him, seemingly poised on the edge of a cliff. Waiting.

Ready.

He felt the same exact way.

“Delilah,” he croaked, unsure why he said her name. But he did. He liked the way it sounded. Like a melody. It wasn’t a common name but it fit her because he’d never met someone like his Delilah before.

Keeping her eyes closed, she took a deep breath, like she needed to. Like she was in search of strength and couldn’t find it when she was with him. “What?”

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered, then cleared his throat. His hand cupped her cheek, pulling her in as he stepped forward, and their heads, their mouths aligned as if it were the most natural thing in the word.

So why was he so damn determined to fight nature every step of the way?

Her tongue darted out to lick her upper lip and he clamped his mouth shut, stifling the groan that wanted to escape.

“No one’s stopping you,” she murmured, cracking her eyes open. Eyes that were so dark and so hungry, she seemed to gobble him up with just a look.

Right. No one was stopping them. What was wrong with a little kiss? He just wanted a taste. One taste of sweet, sexy Delilah, something he’d never experienced before. The girl who haunted his dreams. The girl who was too good for him. The girl who’d been with one Gallagher man and didn’t need another to come into her life and fuck it up, as Gallagher men were known to do.

But he wasn’t listening to the rational side of his brain right now.

He cradled her face with both hands now, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. He tilted her head back, her lush mouth within perfect reach, and leaned in. Lane could feel her warm breath waft across his face, could see the way her lower lip trembled in anticipation just before they parted. The scent of her hair and skin, the warmth of her body, it all swarmed him. Made his head spin. Made his heart pound. Made him break out in a sweat.

“Oh!” a startled female voice screamed. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry!”

The rather familiar voice broke the spell that had fallen over him, and Lane dropped his hands from Delilah’s face, turning to see who’d interrupted them.

Great. It was his little sister, Wren, gaping at the both of them like she’d just seen a ghost.

He popped his mouth open, about to tell Wren to get the hell out of there, when he swore he heard Delilah growl. Actually growl, like a wild animal. He glanced down at her, shocked at the ferocious look on her face, noting her rosy cheeks, her damp lips. Lips he’d been seconds from kissing.

That growl had been sort of hot.

“Go away,” Delilah demanded, her eyes blazing as she glared at Wren.

“Delilah,” Lane chastised, surprised she’d speak so meanly to her friend.

“Hey, no harm, no foul.” Wren threw her hands up in front of her and backed away, the giant shit-eating grin on her face a dead giveaway that she knew exactly what she’d just broken up. “I’ll see you two kids later,” she said just before she scurried her little butt out of there.

Lane turned to Delilah, frowning as she took a deep breath and blew it out shakily while smoothing back her hair. “What was that all about?”

She dropped her arm, her expression incredulous. “Do you really have to ask?”

Well. No. But her vicious reaction to Wren’s unexpected appearance truly had shocked him. “You seemed pretty angry at Wren.”

“I was.” Then when he stared at her stupidly, she clarified: “Angry at Wren.” That’s what she did to him. Rendered him stupid when he got too close. Her beauty, her mouth, her intoxicating scent . . . it hit him hard and turned him into an imbecile. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for what feels like forever and she goes and blows it by having to what? Use the restroom? Her timing is freaking impeccable.”

He might have found Delilah’s outburst amusing if he wasn’t as frustrated as she was. “You’ve been waiting for what moment?”