Forbidden (Wildwood #1)

Chapter 11

11

Ethan could not wait to sign off on this project. The sooner he got Sam Boyd off his schedule, the better.

“So, we’re good, right?” The burly man strode behind Ethan down the long hallway of the multi-million-dollar mansion, checking off inspection details. “Because I leave for Italy in?—”

“Two days.” Ethan had to resist the urge to elbow Boyd in the ribs to get the man’s hot breath off his neck. “So you said.”

He stepped into the gourmet kitchen, rich in slate, granite, stainless steel, and cherry woods, and checked his watch. This would be another day without lunch thanks to good old Dad.

Pops may be right about where Ethan needed to focus his time and energy, but having a father like Jack was a little like having a father in the mob. Once you got pulled in, getting out involved bloodshed.

“So what’s going on with the Hart girl?” Sam asked. “Jack’s pretty bent out of shape about her showing up here. Can’t say I blame him. That whole family was nothing but a?—”

“My dad was a contortionist in another life. He gets bent out of shape about a lot of things.”

Ethan focused on the rich stone flooring, then scanned the smooth granite-topped island and ran his fingers along the joints in the matching countertops, fighting to keep his frustration under control.

He’d been asked at least two dozen times about the Hart girl since she’d arrived in town, almost two weeks ago now, and he was sick of fielding questions about things he couldn’t answer. Things he wanted to know just as much as everyone else. Like where she’d been all these years, how she’d hooked up with Pacific Coast’s Finest, how she’d learned about historical renovation, what she planned to do with the bar, and how long she was staying.

But the question that plagued him late at night revolved around whether or not he’d ever get another chance to feel her, smell her, taste her, experience her consuming passion again. Because she wasn’t answering his calls or his texts.

And while their almost-up-against-the-wall episode at his brewery haunted his dreams, waking him in the night sweating and hard, she’d been conspicuously absent from the bar when he was at the warehouse brewing after work.

Almost a week had passed without his seeing or talking to her, and while he told himself that was a good thing, he was still going a little crazy. And that was a really bad sign. Add in his daily work routine filled with complaints and arguments and demands, like the ones Boyd was issuing now, and Ethan was downright volatile.

“I imagine that girl brings up bad blood between you two,” Sam said.

“It’s ancient history to everyone except those who don’t have anything more important to talk about.”

He pulled the measuring tape from his belt and jotted down the measurements of the island, the cabinets, and the distance between each appliance as he went.

“You’re either lying or in denial, kid. Have you seen your daddy, your mama, or your aunt Ellen in the last few days?”

Ethan’s hand froze as he reached for the tap to check the water pressure.

“’Cause Ellen was at the grocery store last night when I was picking up milk, and that Hart girl was?—”

“Delaney,” Ethan corrected with a sharp look at Boyd, annoyed beyond reason. “Her name is Delaney.”

Sam paused, studying Ethan. A little grin lifted one side of his mouth. “And Delaney was there chatting up Vince Riley. You know him, right? Just out of law school. Hung a shingle down on Main Street. Doing so well for himself, he’s not taking on any new clients. But he’s evidently got time to date, because I heard him ask her out.”

Ethan’s shoulders tightened.

“And when I reached the checkout stand,” Boyd continued, “Ellen was in front of me, white as one of Doc Newton’s newborn lambs. Her hands were shaking so bad the checker had to get the money out of her wallet to pay.”

Ethan’s chest caved with guilt. What the hell could he say to that? He just shook his head and went back to work, checking pilot lights on the stove.

“You know that’s gonna worry your mama.” Sam dug deeper. “And anything that worries your mama pisses off your daddy. And if your aunt goes off the deep end again, your uncle Wayne?—”

“I don’t need a lesson in my family dynamics.” He set his clipboard on the island and started working on the final clearance. “If you wouldn’t mind cutting back on the chatter so I could finish this paperwork. I’ve got a really full schedule that I couldn’t fit you into in the first place...”

“Sure. Fine.” He paused only a moment before he chuckled and murmured, “That Hart—Delaney sure is one sweet piece of?—”

“Don’t.” Every muscle in Ethan’s body tensed. She was most definitely a sweet piece of ass—like sugarcane-straight-to-the-bloodstream sweet—but no one was going to talk about her like that in front of him.

“Don’t what?”

Ethan met Boyd’s eyes with a clear warning. “Just shut up so I can get this done.”

He refocused on the form before Boyd reacted, because Ethan didn’t want to see it. He’d stepped over the line with shut up. Normally he prided himself on his professionalism. Doing his job right, following the clear-cut rules set out in the building code, gave him a sense of purpose and accomplishment and pride. Other than brewing good beer, it was all he had to be proud of. All he had to call his own. At least for now.

And he’d just gone and blown it by letting Boyd get under his skin.

Or maybe it all stemmed from letting Delaney get under his skin.

“You’d better watch your mouth, boy.” Boyd’s voice rasped with anger. “You can bet your daddy’s gonna hear?—”

“I don’t care what you tell my father.” Ethan stretched his neck side to side, cracking it both directions, then let his head fall back and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, searching for patience he didn’t have. “He’s not my...”

Ethan’s words trailed off when he spotted the three sleek new light fixtures hanging from the twelve-foot ceiling over the granite island.

“What the hell?” He slapped his pen against the clipboard on the counter and turned his glare on Boyd. “You took out those sprinkler heads and put in lights?”

Boyd’s expression instantly shifted from condescending to ignorant as he glanced at the ceiling. “There weren’t any sprinkler heads there.”

“Oh, yes there were.” Ethan pulled folded plans from the aluminum box beneath the clipboard and slapped them on the granite in front of Boyd. With a rigid finger pinpointing the sprinkler head locations, he said, “These sprinklers. The ones you argued over for weeks.”

“Come on, Ethan. We both know those things were eyesores. They killed the style in this kitchen.” He opened his arms and gestured around the space. “This is a showplace, for God’s sake. Even your daddy thinks so. He and your mama were here for a wine tasting just last week, and...”

The situation crystallized in his mind, and Ethan hit his breaking point.

He held up his hand to stop Boyd’s stupidity from pouring out of his mouth. Ethan was here because his dad had asked him to squeeze Boyd into his schedule. Boyd had ripped out coded fire sprinklers because Jack had said Ethan would overlook it. All because Boyd was supporting Jack’s reelection campaign for mayor.

Ethan’s blood felt like it was boiling in his veins. He gathered the plans and paperwork, piled it on the clipboard, and turned for the front door. “We’re done.”

Boyd certainly wasn’t the first to cut corners, ignore codes, or expect special allowances. Ethan had experienced all that and more—lies, conspiracy, bribes. As the building planner, building inspector, and the mayor’s son, the dark side of business had become part of his everyday life—enter the moblike experience.

But Ethan was sick of it.

All of it.

“Call me when the sprinklers are back in,” he said, striding away.

“Whoa, wait. It’s just three sprinklers. I’ve got dozens throughout the house.”

“Yet not one in the room most susceptible to fire.” He continued through the wide marble-floored foyer toward the ornate double-doored glass entry. “The codes are written the way they’re written for good reason.”

“Okay, okay,” Boyd said, following. “I’ll have the guy back here tomorrow morning to fix it. Just sign off on the final inspection so I can get the occupancy paperwork in the morning.”

If Ethan had a nickel for every promise a client had made him over the years, he’d be standing in his own brewpub right now. “When they’re in, I’ll swing by between clients and sign you off.”

He pulled the front door open, but Boyd put a hand against the wood and closed it.

Ethan’s temper slipped. He turned his head and met Boyd’s gaze head-on. “Let go of that door. Right. Now.”

Boyd obeyed, and Ethan shot him a glare as he swung it open.

“Ethan, my construction note is due tomorrow.” Boyd followed him onto the porch with worry and annoyance filling his voice. “If I don’t have your final, I’ll have to extend the loan another thirty days. I’m already going to eat it on replacing the sprinklers. Extending that loan is going to run me dry.”

“Then I suggest you get your contractor on the phone, because I’m not letting you skate. I’ve gone out of my way to accommodate you on this project.” He paused at his driver’s door and turned to face the other man. “For the record, I don’t appreciate you trying to put one over on me. And I don’t appreciate you and my father conspiring behind my back to circumvent the codes.”

“We weren’t conspiring?—”

Ethan climbed into the driver’s seat, tossed his things onto the passenger’s side, slammed the door, and started the engine, drowning out any more of Boyd’s lies.

Once he was on the main country road headed toward town, he rolled down his window, letting the perfect eighty-degree country air blow through the cab. With anger still gnawing at the pit of his stomach, he touched the speed dial for his secretary.

She picked up on the second ring. “Hey, Bossman.”

“Jodi, would you call and reschedule every appointment I’ve made in off-hours as a favor to my father? Just put them in during my normal day whenever it’s convenient.” Silence extended over the line so long, Ethan said, “Hello?”

“Um...yeah. Still here.” Concern weighted Jodi’s voice, and computer keys clicked in the background. “Have you looked at your schedule lately?”

“I look at it every day.”

“Do you look at it a week out? Two weeks out? A month out? You’re booked, Ethan. That’s why these favors your father calls in always end up on your off-hours, because you don’t have any regular hours available.”

Ethan took a deep breath and did what he should have done years ago. “I understand, but I still want it done. Be prepared for pushback, and if they get rowdy, leave me a list of names and numbers. I’ll reschedule them myself.”

“Okay,” she said, trepidation in her voice. “I guess we can start with the one you’re supposed to be at now, over your lunch hour. That would give you a few minutes to eat and get you to the rest of your appointments on time today—for a change. And if I reschedule the favor you were supposed to do this evening, you might even get off work at a decent hour.”

“That sounds heavenly.”

He disconnected with his secretary and winced. He was pretty sure he’d be feeling the negative repercussions of this decision for a long time to come, but he couldn’t deny the giddy sense of freedom pulsing through his veins. Or the way his mind filled with all kinds of ways to spend his newfound hours.

Yes, most included Delaney, but since that night he’d just about fucked her up against the wall without a second thought to what that might cost him in the long run, he’d convinced himself time with Delaney was nothing but a masochistic addiction he needed to break. And she hadn’t been lighting up his phone to tell him differently. So he turned his mind to the brewpub.

As soon as he turned onto Main Street, his phone rang. He glanced at the dash to see who was calling with plans of letting it go to voice mail, but he saw his mother’s number on the display and answered. “Hey, Mom. I’m on my way to an appointment. What’s up?”

“Hi, honey. Can you believe this weather? I’m going to ask your father to barbecue tonight. Do you think you could come over? I’ll make your favorite ribs with peach cobbler for dessert.”

He propped his elbow on the window ledge and his head in his hand. God, he was starving and that menu made his mouth water. But Ethan didn’t want to face his father until he knew what he was going to say, lest he blow up and say the wrong thing and make their abysmal relationship even worse. Besides, he wasn’t up for another night of rants over Delaney’s return.

“I’m already running late on appointments,” he told her. “I won’t be done early enough to catch you for dinner.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” His mother sounded sincerely disappointed. “You and your father have been at such odds lately. I was hoping you two could smooth things over.”

Not in this lifetime. “I know it upsets you, Mom, and I’m sorry. But honestly, I don’t see that changing anytime soon unless Dad backs off.”

“I’m sorry, too. I’ll talk to him. Honey, there’s one other thing. I hate to ask with your time so limited, but my friend Bunny, she’s at Wildly Artesian working in her space, and she noticed that Colleen McKay is struggling to put up some shelves in the next space over. You know Colleen, her husband, Dick?—”

“Passed away last month.” Ethan stopped at a light and rubbed his tired eyes, barely holding back his exasperated sigh because he knew what was coming. “Yeah.”

“If you happen to be going by the shop, it would really mean a lot to me if you’d stop by and help her out. I’d do it myself, but we both know I’m as good with a hammer as your father is with a cupcake pan.”

That made Ethan laugh. And he was only a couple of blocks from the shop. “Sure, Mom.”

“Thanks so much, honey. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” He disconnected with his mother and turned the corner onto Main Street, pulling into a spot beneath the Sycamore trees in front of Phoebe’s shop. The building was a grand historical colonial situated at the center of downtown. One Phoebe had bought when Ethan had been away at college.

She’d put a lot of money into restoring it and kept it in pristine shape. And every time Ethan looked at the turn-of-the-century colonial, a sense of pride welled inside him.

He wished he could have afforded one of these historical buildings to house his brewpub, but land was far more affordable. It also allowed him to start small and expand without going too deep into debt.

The thought of offering to buy The Bad Seed from Delaney had crossed Ethan’s mind several times. It would be an easy way to gain prime real estate and a liquor license at the same time. But he also knew that doing that would have been considered the worst kind of betrayal to his family.

And, as Caleb had said, going up against Jack wasn’t the best way to ensure success with a new business in town. If there was one thing he’d need with this business—it was success. Pops was counting on it. Besides, that building was going to be a cavernous money pit. He was sure she’d see that in time.

Ethan got out of his truck and waited for two women pushing baby strollers to pass before he crossed the sidewalk and started up the old wooden steps to Wildly Artesian’s double front doors.

A bell jingled as he entered, and the scent of peaches and lavender filled the air. Phoebe looked up from the front counter where she had paperwork spread out across the glass.

“Well, Mr. Hayes.” Her smile was at half-mast, which caused Ethan a pang of unease.

“Hi, Phoebe. How are you?”

She leaned her forearms on the glass and met his gaze directly. “I’d be better if you weren’t sleeping with Delaney.”

Her statement hit him like a brick. His smile vanished, and he glanced around to see who else might have heard, relieved no one was within earshot. Then he rolled back on his heels and shoved his hands into his front pockets. “Your candidness is always so...refreshing.”

“I doubt it.” She set down her pen and clasped her hands.

A middle-aged woman strolled from one section of the building to another, passing through the lobby, and Phoebe held whatever she had to say until the shopper had moved out of range.

Still she kept her voice low. “You know I like you, Ethan. Despite your father’s and uncle’s overshadowing presence in town, you’ve carved your own path. It’s clear that you’re your own man, not your father’s son, if you know what I mean.”

“I do, and thank you. Though I feel a but coming.”

“But,” she said with a grin that lasted only a second, “your little anonymous rendezvous with Delaney has me wondering if there’s another side to you.”

What in the hell did he say to that? “I really like Delaney, Phoebe. And as you’ve said, I’m not my father. Not everyone sees that, and I wanted Delaney to form her own opinions.”

“I’m disappointed in the way you went about it. Still, what’s done is done. But that doesn’t mean mistakes need to be repeated.”

All the air left his lungs in one heavy breath. A gnawing pain aggravated his gut. This woman’s disappointment hurt more than his mother’s. “I don’t see my time with Delaney as a mis?—”

“Your family has done enough damage to my girls, especially Delaney. Don’t think I’ll stand by and let it happen again. I may not be your daddy, but I have a lot of deep, loyal friends here and elsewhere that I will call on if necessary.”

“I don’t want to hurt Delaney,” he said deliberately.

“Good. Hold to that goal, and we’ll keep the drama at bay.” She straightened, her voice light, her smile refreshed. Clearly that conversation was over. “What brought you in today, Ethan? Looking for a gift for your mama?”

Ethan glanced around the huge space, now even more out of sorts than when he’d walked in. Talking about Delaney only made him want to see her. “No, but my mom’s the reason I’m here.”

After he explained his mother’s request, Phoebe chuckled. “I think your mama’s dabbling in her notorious matchmaking again. Bunny hasn’t been here in a week. She’s out with a sinus infection. And if Colleen needed help, she would have come to me, or asked her daughter”—she gave Ethan a pointed look—“since Misty is with her.”

Ethan rolled his eyes to the ceiling, then let them slide closed and rubbed them. Two emotions collided in Ethan’s chest—humor and irritation. On one hand, his mother’s matchmaking skills were so lousy they were funny. On the other, it was hard to find anything that involved his family and all their manipulation funny today.

“You may be wrong about me and Delaney,” he said, “but you’re right about my mother.”

He glanced at the door, calculating which would be more trouble—making excuses to his mother about why he didn’t stay and help, or enduring Misty’s wandering eyes and propositions.

“I’m not wrong. You just don’t want to admit I’m right. Observation, Ethan. Everything you want to know is there if you look for it. All you have to do is really watch people. Humans are creatures of habit, patterns are developed for a reason, and character is built over time. People don’t change overnight.

“That’s how I knew about you and Delaney. I read you both well. Which is why I’m disappointed in your behavior—not because you slept with Delaney, not even because you didn’t tell her who you were, but why you didn’t. That is the crack in your character concerning me.”

Ethan’s irritation flared. “Everyone has character flaws, Phoebe. I never claimed to be perfect.”

“But not all flaws cause pain. We both know the minute your daddy or your uncle catch you looking Delaney’s way, there will be hell to pay. And family has been the bane of her existence, yours and her own. I’m trying to retie some of those connections for her so that when I’m gone, she’s not left floating in this big world alone. So if you really care about her—beyond the bedroom—let the girl be. Let her heal the way she needs to so she can move on.”

A mix of anger and sadness tangled inside him. “I plan to do what I can to keep my family from interfering in her life. And I’m also doing my best to leave her alone, because she’s as concerned about the problems that would come of us being seen together as you are. But I really do like her, and whether she’s willing to admit it or not, she really likes me, too.

“And for what it’s worth, I think Delaney needs more than healing. I think she needs a few wins in her life right now, too. Especially in this town and where that bar is concerned, which is why I know renovating it would be a big mistake.”

Phoebe’s eyes narrowed, and she studied him a long, tense moment. “I do love that steel streak of yours, Ethan. It reminds me so much of Delaney’s. She is your equal—or better. Remember that when trouble comes knocking. Her foundation won’t be swayed by a handsome smile or a flash of charm.

“She’s not just the kind of woman who weathers storms. She’s the kind that weathers hurricanes, and she’s learned a little about the best way to do that over the years. Don’t underestimate her.”

Phoebe straightened and collected her papers. “Colleen’s space is in the southwest corner. I don’t think she needs help anymore seeing as Delaney’s in there now, but I suppose that’s not going to keep you from going back there, is it?”

Ethan’s body flicked on like a light. The strange sensation of fluttering wings brushed his chest. “No, ma’am.”

“Didn’t think so.”

Phoebe turned for the office door behind the counter, and Ethan started toward the southwest corner of the building. He might be relieved to be walking away from that awkward situation, but he had mixed feelings over the one he was headed toward. Far too much excitement bubbled through his body over the prospect of seeing Delaney again after he’d been reaffirming his decision to stay away from her no more than fifteen minutes before.

He glanced in the various spaces as he walked through the four-thousand-square-foot main level. Each area was rented out to different artists, where they designed, decorated, and stocked their own handmade crafts. Even in the middle of the week, well past tourist season, dozens of shoppers strolled through the beautifully restored building.

As he passed gorgeous watercolors, intricate oil paintings, stunning pottery, jewelry, soaps, candles, dolls, bath bubbles, puzzles—the variety of fine arts and handmade crafts was endless—he struggled with emotions he hadn’t felt in decades. Conflicting emotions he had no outlet for and no idea what to do with.

As he neared Colleen’s corner space, he heard Delaney’s smooth, feminine voice. “Is this a good height?”

“Maybe a little to the left?” an older woman answered.

As he listened to her back-and-forth with Colleen over placement, Ethan sighed, remembering her voice in bed that night. Sultry in his ear. Teasing and laughing. Whispering. Begging.

He let his eyes fall closed and soaked in the comfort her voice brought without judgment. The last week without Delaney felt like it took a month to pass. The only good part about that week was that she hadn’t shown up on his schedule.

“A little higher, I think,” Colleen said.

He forced himself to take the last few steps to the space’s doorway and glanced around one of the walls, where he found hand-painted knickknacks for the home. Mailboxes with sparrows, cutting boards with cows and pigs, benches with morning glories.

And a ladder against one wall.

He scanned upward and found the woman he’d been craving for days standing on the fifth rung. His gaze floated over her from the toes up, and he drank in her cute little feet in rhinestone-encrusted flip-flops, the long, smooth, curvy length of gorgeous, bare tanned legs, her tight ass covered in denim cutoffs, and her slim torso hidden behind a heather-blue fitted tee.

All in all, an ordinary, no frills, nothing-to-write-home-about outfit. Yet the way her body filled the clothes made Ethan’s mouth water and his heart beat faster.

Her hair was in one long braid down the middle of her back. She held a birdhouse with lilies painted on three sides above several other birdhouses.

“Or would you rather have them offset, like this?” she asked, moving the birdhouse a little to the right.

Misty was sitting on one of her mother’s pieces scrolling on her phone. The wooden rocking chair beneath her had been painted with an incredible sunset over the ocean that covered the back and spilled over the arms.

Misty glanced toward him as he stepped into the space, and her face lit up. “Well, hey, Ethan. Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Hi, Misty.”

She was a very pretty brunette with big dark-brown eyes. Tall and girl-next-door fresh, she’d cut her long hair into a sleek, sexy bob when her fiancé had broken off their engagement to pursue his affair with a cougar he’d been seeing on the side in Sundance, the town next door. They’d only been broken up a couple of months, but Misty had been on a serious manhunt ever since. And for a reason Ethan didn’t care to understand, she had her scope zeroed in on him.

“You look great.” She surveyed him, her eyes sultry and approving as she stuffed her phone into her back pocket and gave him her full attention. “I hear you’re working a lot.”

“I am.” He offered Colleen a smile. “In fact I’m on my way to an appointment, but my mom called and asked me to stop by to give you a hand.”

He lifted his gaze to meet Delaney’s. She wore a little smirk, as if she already knew exactly why Ethan had been summoned and found it amusing. “Phoebe told me you’d found some help, but I wanted to make sure.”

“How sweet of you,” Misty said.

Colleen gushed over Ethan taking time out of his day to come by, but he didn’t look away from Delaney. And she never looked away from him.

“Have you heard about Drew’s grand opening party for Black Jack’s?” Misty asked.

Ethan forced his gaze from Delaney’s and focused on Misty. She had her legs crossed, one foot swinging. She was also dressed for the warm weather, something he only noticed as an afterthought even though she could be considered just as physically beautiful as Delaney.

With her elbow on the arm of the chair, her chin in her hand, and those eyes staring up at Ethan, he realized he knew two dozen guys in town who’d shove him off a cliff to take his place right now. Yet it was all he could do not to look back at Delaney.

“Saturday night,” Misty said. “Everyone’s going.”

“I’ve heard.” He pushed his hands into his pockets. “I’m supplying the beer.”

Misty laughed, the sound low and sexy. “Oh, boy, you do get around, don’t you? Why don’t we go together? Just swing by and pick me up around seven thirty.”

He could see how easily men could get swept away by her smooth, take-charge ways. She’d just set her sights on the wrong man. “Thanks, but my work schedule has been?—”

Bang, bang, bang interrupted him as Delaney pounded a nail into the wall in an obnoxious attempt to interrupt. Now Ethan was officially amused, too.

He waited until the banging stopped. “I’m sure I’ll see you there.”

Misty had been propositioning him from the first week of her split with the ex, and she was a perfect example of why he didn’t date women in Wildwood—complications, rumors, ties, and manipulation.

Mrs. Woodly, a lively seventysomething-year-old appeared in the opening to the space. “Hi there, Ethan. Sorry to interrupt. Colleen, do you mind watching the store while I run to the ladies’?”

“Of course not.”

As Colleen wandered away, Misty’s phone pinged, and she pulled it from her back pocket. Her eyes lit up, and she stuffed it away again, already pushing from the chair. “Cody Stoker joined the crowd at Scrub-a-Pup,” she said, starting toward the door. “Since Ethan’s not going to take me to the party, I’ll take my chances elsewhere. See you across the street, Delaney.”

Ethan chuckled at how quickly the woman jumped at another opportunity. That was another reason he didn’t do ties—women were entirely too fickle for his taste.

“Okay...” Delaney said, then trailed off when she turned and found Misty gone, disappeared into the maze of spaces that made up the floor. “Sure,” she pretended to call, as if someone was listening. “No problem. Just here working in a space that’s not mine for people who aren’t even here.”

She sighed. Her shoulders slumped. And she met Ethan’s gaze with an annoyed, what-can-you-do expression.

“Yeah. I get that a lot, too.”

Her mouth lifted into a grin. Then she looked away and positioned another nail. “You’re free to go, Inspector Hayes. I can handle a few birdhouses. I promise.”

Bang, bang, bang.

“I’m surprised you told Phoebe about us,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I’ve just been moved to her blacklist.”

“I didn’t tell her. She just knew.” She shrugged. “You get used to it. I lived there as a teen. Just bring her flowers or open her car door for her, and you’ll pop right back over to the golden list.”

He made a sound of doubt. “I don’t think so.”

“Just be glad she can’t read you as well as she can me.” She turned her attention back to another nail. “You’d better go before she gets to know you too well.”

Bang, bang, bang.

But Ethan didn’t want to go. In fact, he didn’t want to do anything but stand around and talk to her, tease her, see her smile, look at her legs in those cutoffs.

“Is that a sixteen-penny nail, Miz Hart? You know the city of Wildwood only allows sixteen-penny nails to hang anything weighing less than twelve pounds.” When she gave him a yeah-right look, he narrowed his eyes. “And is that on center? Because that looks a little too far right to me. You most definitely have to be dead center in a stud, or it won’t be cleared by that asshole of an inspector in this town.”

He turned an openly direct gaze on her, lifted an elbow to the top of a cabinet nearby, and leaned in, lowering his voice. “Now, I know for a fact that you are exquisitely gifted at nailing a stud. But it is my sworn duty to the citizens of Wildwood to make sure you are nailing said stud adequately. And I’m afraid to tell you...”

He sucked air between his teeth and gave a small shake of his head. “I believe we need to have a serious talk about arranging some more stud-nailing sessions to make sure you are an absolute expert at this crucial art.”

She was grinning, and when she grinned, her skin glowed and her eyes sparkled. And she was the most gorgeous thing on the planet.

“The art of nailing a stud.” Her laugh bubbled through the air and seemed to untie knots inside Ethan he hadn’t realized were gnarled. “You are a dirty little flirt.”

“It’s actually more of a suggestion, less of a flirtation.”

She gave him a what-in-the-hell-are-you-thinking look. Turning on the ladder, she faced him, crossed her arms, and propped one foot on the rung above. Her ease of movement five feet above the ground, in sandals, and without ever looking down told Ethan just how much time she’d spent on ladders. Something he still wanted to know all about.

“No,” she said, her voice lowered to match his. “Just a hookup—remember? The other night...” She looked away and lifted a shoulder. “We just got carried away. And what happened with Caleb should have given you a good enough scare to stay ten miles away from me.”

She was right. And the fact that he was standing here trying to convince her they needed to spend more time together created a weird buzz of panic. It was like a repressed side of him was suddenly emerging and fighting for control.

“Yeah, well, we might not be able to escape them all, but I’ve really tried to outgrow as many should-haves as humanly possible.”

Damn, he was going to have to go out on another limb here, or he wasn’t going to get through that shell of hers. “And I’m definitely ignoring this one, because as much as I might agree with you logically, every other part of me flat-out refuses to jump on board. Emotionally, physically, mentally, I only want to be with you. The last week has been miserable without you in it.”

That softened her. Her whole face loosened, and for all of two seconds, Ethan got a quick glimpse of the woman underneath that hard surface. The woman he’d shared his bed with a week ago—her sweetness, her heart, her warmth. Then, in a flash, she caught herself and closed off again. She straightened her spine and tossed out an aloof, “Sorry. Not an option.”

Anger flashed. “Delaney?—”

“For one,” she said, pulling her voice down to an almost whisper, “if your family found out, you’d be dead meat. For two, it could be misconstrued as a conflict of interest on a professional level.”

His frustration pushed to the front. “Granted, my family is a nuisance, but they don’t run my life. As for work, you would have to be doing something with the bar that required my involvement to make anything between us a conflict of interest.

“Which makes this a great time to ask why you had Trace Hutton at the bar. Because if you’re going to demolish, then there’s no conflict. And if there’s no conflict, and you’re still brushing me off, then it’s me, not the situation. So which is it, Delaney? Has your hunger been sated, or are you planning more problems?”

She frowned. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“And you answer almost none.”

She lowered her gaze to the floor and didn’t answer.

“Your aunt seems to think you can weather hurricanes with no damage. I’m beginning to see how you do that—with lots of shutters, all bolted down to make sure nothing gets in. But I don’t think she understands that the act of surviving those storms has damaged you in a whole different way.”

She lifted her eyes to his again, and something floated there that he couldn’t read. She was thinking, he knew that. Conflicted, he could see that, too. But there was more. Something soft. Something he wanted to draw out but didn’t know how.

She hopped off the ladder, landing smoothly and squarely, then folded the metal in one swift motion. “I’m sorry. I’mstruggling here. I’m trying to look at all sides of this. Trying to make the best decision for everyone when there isn’t one.”

He took one step toward her before he stopped himself still a foot away. He reached across the space between them and ran one finger down her forearm. God, her skin was so soft. And when she didn’t pull away, he linked his finger with her pinkie.

Her gaze lowered to where their hands barely connected.

“Talk to me,” he said.

“I can’t.” She pulled her hand from his and rubbed her face. “Conflict of interest, remember?”

“Okay, fine. Don’t talk to me about it, but at least talk to me. How about dinner? I’ll take you to Santa Rosa where the rumors won’t be an issue.”

She gave him that would-you-stop look. “No, Ethan.”

“Then why don’t you come by the warehouse tonight? We can talk while I work. I’d love to hear about your job at Pacific Coast. About Avery and Chloe. About what you plan to do next.”

“You’re kidding yourself if you think we can pretend to be friends.”

“We’re already friends.”

“If you believe in friends with benefits maybe, which I don’t.”

“That’s not what I meant. We have common interests, we get along, we like each other. Those are elements for the basis of every friendship. And you know if my job and my family were taken out of the loop, we’d be a hundred and fifty percent into this thing between us.”

“But you can’t take your job or your family out of the loop. And you can’t take the bar or our past out of the loop, either.” She heaved a troubled breath, propped her shoulder against the ladder, and crossed her arms. “Look, I realize there is some weird, crazychemistry or somethinghere, but that doesn’t mean we should act on it.”

“Again, you mean.”

“Jesus, Ethan,” she muttered with a roll of her eyes.

Her aggravation helped him relax, because it was obvious she still wanted him. And she was having as much trouble fighting their attraction as he was.

He leaned in and lowered his voice, but he met her eyes with all the heat bubbling inside him. “We are fucking nuclear together, and we both want the same thing. You’re not going to be in town long, and I don’t give a shit what my family thinks of?—”

“Stop. Just stop.”

“I don’t, Delaney. I?—”

“God, you’re such a liar. Or you’re delusional. Either way, you’re full of shit.” She opened her eyes, but they were still heavy-lidded, and her rebuttal was weak. “You know it. I know it. So just stop denying it, Ethan.”

His inflated hope took a hit.

“Just come over to the warehouse tonight. It doesn’t have to be for sex,” he said, even though the thought created disappointment. “You were there less than twenty minutes last week and you made one suggestion on my layout that streamlined my brewing process. I can’t imagine what would happen if you actually hung out and looked around. And if you’d trust me as much with your thoughts on the bar as you do with your body, I may even be able to help you, too.”

“Ethan.” Her voice dropped, and her gaze flicked to the opening leading to other spaces.

A pink hue stained her cheeks, making him smirk. The woman was blushing? After what she’d done to him in bed? After what she’d openly let him do to her in bed? After nearly letting him fuck her against a metal wall?

Dammit, why did he think these things? He rubbed a hand over his hot face and threaded it into his hair while he focused on the floor. The boring, stained concrete floor. Surely that would cool him down. Okay, maybe eventually.

“Look,” he said, “I’m just saying we don’t have to be enemies. Is it really so hard to believe I just want to spend more time with you?”

“It should be.” Those gorgeous blue eyes slid back to his, veiled by her lashes. “But you’re very persuasive.”

He grinned. “I try.”

She put a few tools away beneath the table, but he stayed put when she turned for the exit, which he blocked. She was just a couple of feet away when she lifted her gaze to his.

“God, you smell good,” he murmured. “I’m going a little crazy here, baby. Don’t you think about me? About us?”

She got that look in her eye. The smoldering one. The one she’d gotten that night just before she rolled on top of him and took control.

He reached out and cupped the side of her face. Her lids fluttered in surprise, then closed as her head leaned into his hand. That tiny window into her soul, showing him what she really wanted, really needed, was so powerful, it weakened him. His barriers crumbled again.

He was such a sucker for her. He took the last step, closing the distance, and gripped her waist with both hands. “I’m getting off late tonight, but if you’re still hungry around seven?—”

“Come on, Ethan.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “You do realize that you were called here for?—”

“A horribly twisted version of the dating game? Yes. This is what happens when your mother gets involved in your love life.”

A split-second smile lifted her lips, then vanished. “You coming here today shows exactly how fast word travels in this town. We’re talking about fifteen minutes between the time Colleen and Misty got here and the time you walked in.

“How long do you think it’s going to take for word of us being together to travel to your family? And believe me—I’ve already heard all about my mere presence tipping Ellen off the deep end.”

“Goddammit.” He released her and turned away. “This fucking town.” His crazy family. His own goddamned mistakes. “Can’t anyone move on?”

He let his arm fall and paced in a circle. Normally Ethan loved Wildwood. Loved the town. Loved the people. There were a lot of great things about living in small-town America just an hour or two from a big city. And Ethan felt lucky almost every damn day.

Except on days like this. When the ugly little small-town demons wiggled out of the crevices to cast shadows. When the people he loved, the very people he stayed here for, tried to control his life in a way that suited them, not him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I’ve got to get going.”

He turned to face her. “What are you doing across the street?”

She smiled, one of those bright, sweet smiles that made Ethan think of the sun coming out from behind rain clouds. “A Scrub-a-Pup scrub-a-thon.”

A laugh of disbelief stuttered out of him. “A what?”

“I’m volunteering for Heidi’s scrub-a-thon.”

He glanced through the front windows of the store to the dog-grooming salon called Scrub-a-Pup across the street. It was owned by Heidi Montgomery, a woman who’d been in Delaney’s high school class, and there were people and dogs filling the sidewalk out front. “No way.”

“Proceeds go to the local ASPCA.” She glanced at her watch, then took it off and pushed it into her pocket. “Her business needs a little boost, and scrubbing pups on the curb of Main Street will certainly bring attention. I’m gonna go make some dirty dogs shine.”

“Why am I sure that was your idea?”

She just smiled and started past him.

He fell into step beside her and kept his voice low when he said, “Meet me at Patterson’s later?”

“Ethan, you’re not thinking with the correct anatomy.”

“That means you want to, right?”

She cast him a sidelong look. “Wanting and doing are very different things.”

“If that’s the case, someone’s not trying hard enough.”

That got her laughing and shot a burst of accomplishment through his chest as they turned the corner toward the exit.

Phoebe was back at the register and looked up. “Well, that’s a nice sound.”

Delaney leaned across the counter to kiss her aunt, and her shorts rode up a delicious inch. “See you at home later.”

“Don’t stay up late again,” Phoebe said with clear warning in her voice and a withering look at Ethan. “Sleep repairs the body.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Delaney called as she pushed through the front door. Once they were down the stairs and on the sidewalk again, she glanced toward him. “I’m not meeting you tonight. We both know we’re already treading dangerous water?—”

“Ethan.”

His father’s familiar, hostile bark came from their right, and all Ethan’s fight reflexes flipped on. He turned to face Jack head-on, sidestepping to shield Delaney from the harsh onslaught with his body. The move might have been unnecessary, but it was instinctual.

He reached back and closed his hand around Delaney’s arm to reassure her and found her skin cold. “Can’t talk, Dad. I’m on my way to an appointment.”

“Well, it can’t be the one you just canceled at the last min—” His dark eyes flashed past Ethan’s shoulder, and a combination of shock and rage erupted across his face. “Is this why you’re not at Judge Davis’s river house right now? Is she the reason you cut your meeting short with Boyd and made a reckless error in your inspect?—”

“The error was yours for telling Boyd he could swap out sprinklers for lights. Especially given it goes directly against the building code of the city you represent as mayor.”

He tried to keep his tone even, knowing his father could easily turn wildly vindictive when his ego was raging, but Ethan wasn’t backing down. Not this time. Not with Delaney in his father’s crosshairs.

“The error was yours when you told Boyd I’d overlook the infraction. The error was Boyd’s for listening to you. There was no error in not signing off on his final until those sprinklers were back in, because that is the law, Mayor. And as the mayor, it would be smart of you to back the fuck off, because you’re not looking very mayoral to the constituents of Wildwood right now.”

A moment of silence fell. While the realization that they were being watched cooled Jack’s fiery eyes, Delaney eased her arm from Ethan’s grasp and moved back before stepping out from behind him.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, her tone soft but businesslike. “I’ll just get going. Good to see you again, Ethan. Mayor Hayes.”

She turned toward the street, unhurried, head up, and Ethan was hit with a profound sense of awe. No one held themselves together in front of his father in a rage. Even Ethan had to work up the guts to face the man. And she’d done it while acting like being with Ethan was a coincidence to make sure he avoided his family’s wrath.

Who did that?

Before she reached the street, his father stepped into her path and wrapped his hand around her bicep.

Ethan moved without thinking. He lunged for his father’s wrist and gripped it hard while he wedged his body between the two of them again. He was strung so tight he was vibrating.

“Let go, Dad,” he ordered through clenched teeth. “Right now.”

Somewhere in his mind, he registered Delaney’s intense stillness. As if she were ready for battle. Her eyes were locked with Jack’s, and a dark fire burned there—something he read as part bone-deep fear and part bloodthirsty warrior. She never blinked. Not once.

Ethan pulled at Jack’s arm but couldn’t release his grip, so he dug what little nails he had into his father’s skin and leaned close. “Get your hand off her right fucking now or your next stop will be the ER and my next stop will be Sheriff Holland, ordering him to arrest you for battery. And you can make damn sure I’ll be announcing it to every goddamned voting citizen of Wildwood on the six o’clock evening news.”

“I’m fine, Ethan.” Delaney sounded almost Zen. So completely opposite of both him and his father that he darted a look at her face. She never took those laser-sharp eyes off Jack. “Let Mayor Hayes say what he feels he needs to say. Best to get this out of the way.”

“He can talk without cutting off your blood supply.”

His father’s deep-brown gaze cut to Ethan, and he released Delaney’s arm. Air suddenly flowed in and out of Ethan’s lungs a hell of a lot easier, but he had to fist his hands to keep himself from shoving his father against the wall at his back. If there weren’t fifty people across the street watching, Ethan would have let his rage loose.

Instead he put himself between Delaney and his father, because he didn’t trust Jack. Ethan had stopped trusting his father the night he’d blamed Ethan for Ian’s death.

Delaney crossed her arms and stepped out of reach—of both Jack and Ethan. The bicep his father had grabbed was reddening before Ethan’s eyes. After being abused by his father for years as a kid, Ethan knew Delaney would have an ugly handprint bruise by morning.

“If you think you’re going to come back here,” Jack started with that parental shaming finger wagging, “open that bar, and pick up where that good-for-nothing excuse of a father of yours left off?—”

“You’re not exactly a model father yourself,” Ethan cut in.

“Ethan.” She finally turned her gaze on him. “Let him talk. Sticks and stones...” Then she shook her head, a gesture Ethan took to mean, He can’t hurt me.

“That building has been condemned,” his father went on. “And it’s going down. There’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

“I’m following all the city planning guidelines—” she started.

“Fuck the guidelines,” Jack yelled, surprising Ethan. Delaney remained stoic. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what the guidelines say. What matters is what I say. And I say it’s...going...down.

“So don’t plan on getting cozy here. Don’t meet up with old friends or make Phoebe promises you can’t keep. And stay the hell away from my family. You don’t have a place in Wildwood. You’re not welcome here. So pack up and get out. Do you hear me?”

“You’re yelling, Mayor,” she said, her tone flat and serious, not even an inkling of attitude. In fact, she seemed detached. “I imagine everyone within two blocks can hear you.”

Her lack of cowering infuriated Jack, and his face burned red. “Then cut your losses, and get the hell out of town. Now.”

A moment of silence stretched. Still Delaney didn’t blink. She held Jack’s gaze in a battle to the end. “Are you done?”

He leaned back and tugged on his blazer. “Not even close. But it’s all I’m saying here.”

“Thank you for the advice. Have a good day, Mayor.”

She turned and strolled across the street, where she wandered into the melee of Scrub-a-Pup’s scrub-a-thon in full swing. She was greeted by three concerned women, who listened to something she said, broke into laughter, and embraced her in a group hug. As if Delaney’s presence pleased both humans and canines alike, the dogs barked louder, their tails wagging fiercely.

When Delaney broke from the hug, she went through another round of hellos from several happy dog owners. Others let their frowns of dismay linger on the mayor. Next door, at Finley’s Market, the lunch crowd filled picnic tables in front of the store, murmuring among themselves.

“That was a brilliant political move, Dad. Showing your small mind and short temper to the working class of Wildwood in living color six months before the polls—fucking brilliant.”

Caleb’s concerned gaze watched closely from where he loitered to chat with his customers and friends as they ate lunch. He lifted his chin and tipped his head, a get-the-hell-over-here-and-away-from-him gesture Ethan knew well.

“You’d better make sure that bar gets bulldozed Ethan,” his father warned. “Do you hear me?”

Ethan refocused on his father with a new sense of calm. Of control. Jack couldn’t make Ethan do anything Ethan didn’t want to do. The revelation was simple, but one he hadn’t been able to make until he’d watched his father’s bluster roll right past Delaney. Jack could have screamed until blood came out of his eyes, but that wouldn’t have swayed Delaney’s decision on when or why she left town.

Now he realized his father had just as little power over him. Ethan had only been giving Jack the power to manipulate his guilt.

“What I hear,” Ethan answered his father, “is the mayor ordering me to do something illegal out of vengeance for personal gain.”

“Don’t you fuck with me on this. That woman is the reason your cousin is dead. That woman and you.”

“No, Dad.” Ethan faced his father head-on. “Ian’s dead because Ian had no common sense. Ian’s dead because Ian liked to pick fights, do drugs, get drunk, steal, and carry weapons. That’s why Ian’s dead.”

He got that smug look that made Ethan’s temper spike. “Well you’ll have the chance to tell your theory to your aunt and uncle’s face at Sunday dinner.” He lifted that wagging finger to Ethan. “And you’d better not cancel on another one of my clients?—”

Ethan knocked Jack’s hand away. “Enough.” He paused to purposely lower his voice. “I won’t be going to Sunday night dinners if they become one more way for my family to ambush me. And I’ll be explaining that very clearly to Mom.”

That made Jack’s smug look fade.

“You’ve crossed the line one too many times. I’m done doing favors. So stop promising them to people, because they’re going to hit a brick wall in the planning department, and you’re going to end up catching a lot of shit. You’re going to stop telling me how to do my job. You’re going to stop using my guilt over Ian’s death to manipulate me. And you’re going to stay out of the situation with Delaney’s bar.”

“Don’t you dare tell me?—”

Ethan pushed a rigid index finger into his father’s chest—an extremely confrontational and out-of-character gesture that made Jack’s eyes widen.

“I’m done with this shit, Dad. Are you hearing me? I’m done with the way you’ve treated me since Ian died. If I have to sever ties with you altogether, that’s what I’ll do, but I. Am. Done.”

Ethan turned and stepped into the street without bothering to look for traffic and crossed. Another benefit of a small town—the residents didn’t run you over when you weren’t thinking straight.

He sweat. His mind raced. His body trembled. He never stood up to his father. Ever. But seeing him lay hands on Delaneysnapped something inside him.

She’d walked into town, and Ethan’s life had spun on its ever-loving axis.

She was right. They shouldn’t see each other anymore.

“Ethan Hayes,” his father called at his back, “don’t you dare walk away from me.”

Ethan kept walking, and anything Jack said after that was drowned in the laughter and barking coming from Scrub-a-Pup and the conversations of customers at Finley’s Market.

Ethan took a deep breath and stopped at Caleb’s side. They both watched the action at the doggie spa, where all the pretty girls were nearly as wet and soaped up as the dogs.

“No matter what happened with your dad,” Caleb said with a grin as Delaney and Heidi fought over a hose, both of them getting soaked to the skin, cotton clinging to luscious curves, “that’s gotta cheer you up, right?”

Ethan had eyes only for Delaney. She wrestled the hose away from Heidi, pointed it at her friend, and sprayed, then held it overhead in a triumphant gesture and bowed for the cheering fans.

Ethan laughed, and seeing how she’d bounced back from his father’s tirade gave him a whole new perspective on just how deeply he’d let Jack’s claws sink into his life.

No more. If Delaney could pry those claws out, so could Ethan.

“Looks like the wild is back in Wildwood,” Caleb said, then turned to Ethan. “And it looks like that wild has done more for you than I expected.” He slapped Ethan’s arm. “I was starting to think you’d never grow a pair.”

“Me either,” Pops said as he strolled up beside Ethan.

Guilt immediately closed in around Ethan like a black cloud. He’d told his grandfather about Delaney being in town to deal with the bar, but he’d played it way down in an attempt to keep Harlan from worrying. But anyone watching Delaney now could see she was far more integrated in the town than Ethan had let on.

“Hey.” Ethan reached down to pet Homie. “Didn’t know you’d be around. Why don’t you take him over for a bath while you’re here?”

“Why would I do that when he’s just gonna run through the fields as soon as we get back to the farm?”

“Is that Homie?” Delaney’s voice reached Ethan’s ears, and he turned to see her crouched, hands on her thighs. Her gaze jumped to Pops. “Oh, Harlan, he looks so good. Come here, boy.”

She slapped her thighs, and Homie took off running.

“What in the Sam hill—” Pops muttered. Then he yelled, “Homie, you dumb mutt, get back here!”

But he was already in Delaney’s arms, getting hugs and kisses.

Caleb laughed. “That dog ain’t goin’ nowhere. And I don’t blame him.”

“Shut up.” Ethan smacked Caleb’s gut, drawing a grunt. “You’re married.” Then to Harlan, “How did Delaney get so chummy with Homie? Wasn’t he just a pup when she left town?”

“She was doing community service at the shelter when I went in. Took a shine to Homie but was afraid of what her daddy would do if she brought him home.”

This was news to Ethan. In fact, it was a direct contradiction to the story Pops had told the family about how he’d come by Homie their whole lives. He pinned his grandfather with a look. “You told us you found him loose on the freeway.”

Harlan got that deer-in-the-headlights look for a millisecond before he shooed Ethan’s accusation away like a fly. “That’s how he got to the shelter, not to me.”

Bullshit. He knew his grandfather well enough to know a tale when he heard it.

He returned his gaze to Delaney and Homie. She had his furry head in both hands, smiling down at the dog with such joy, Ethan’s heart ached. Leaning in, she buried her face in the fur on the side of his neck and wrapped her arms around him.

Watching her show such open, raw love to an animal Ethan hadn’t even realized she’d known made the strangest synapses connect in his brain, creating thoughts that didn’t make any sense but that filled his head anyway.

Did she look that happy when she hung on Ethan the same way? Had he discounted her affection toward him as merely physical when she obviously held more affection for Homie and treated Ethan the same way?

Could she actually love him? Did he even want that? And what was the electric current suddenly spiraling through his chest? Fear? Excitement?

Love?

Wait. Time out.

Was he really comparing himself to a dog?

He shook all that crap from his head, made a couple of quick timing calculations, and applied his frustration toward his grandfather.

“She loved that dog,” he said with a clear edge of accusation in his voice. “He was probably the only pure, unconditional source of love in her life. Then you wandered into that kennel after Grandma passed away, and she saw a wounded soul. She gave you that damn dog to patch up your old rusty heart, didn’t she? You lied to us all these years.”

God, that was so classic Delaney. The hell he didn’t know her.

“You want to talk about lies?” Pops tossed back. “Let’s talk about your Delaney’s-just-passin’-through-town story.”

Ethan rolled his eyes and rubbed a hand down his face. “I didn’t see the point in upsetting you for nothing. It’s nothing to worry about. The clock is ticking. She’s not on my schedule. Hell, she hasn’t even made up her mind what she wants to do. There is no way she can get it all together in a couple of days.”

Harlan’s gaze held on Delaney as she put Homie through the obedience paces. His lips pursed, and his gray brows pulled together, creating a deep V of folds on his forehead. “She don’t look worried to me.”

“She doesn’t know enough to be worried.”

His grandfather’s gaze cut to Ethan’s with a combination of irritation and disbelief. “I just love the way you think you know it all.”

“You know different?”

“I know a lot more than you, but with that thick skull o’ yours...” Harlan shook his head and hobbled toward the Scrub-a-Pup melee. “Guess you’ll always have surprises in your future. Go on with your jabberin’, boys. I’ve gotta get my dog back and get home. Got hops to farm.”

“What did that mean?” Caleb asked Ethan.

“I don’t know.” He glanced at his friend. “You’re the information center. You’re the one who’s supposed to know everything.”

Caleb’s brows rose, his focus still on the dog wash. “What I know right now is that Delaney has just turned your grouchy old grandfather into a happy-go-lucky charmer in front of my damn eyes.”

When Ethan refocused on his grandfather, Harlan hadn’t gotten his dog or gone home. Ethan didn’t know what Delaney said, but she’d gotten Harlan to let her wash, dry, and brush Homie, all while Harlan sat on a bench nearby chatting and laughing with her.

“Holy shit,” he murmured.

“You were right on about that dog,” Caleb said, turning his gaze on Ethan. “How did you know?”

Humans are creatures of habit, patterns are developed for a reason, and character is built over time. People don’t change overnight.

Phoebe’s words filled Ethan’s head and made his lips curve. “Because I know Delaney.”

“I might have to rethink you hooking up with her,” Caleb said. “If she can do that for Harlan, just think what she could do for you given a little time. Just sayin’...”

Ethan smacked his friend’s chest. “Asshole.”

But Caleb was right. She’d walked into his warehouse and made a huge change with one minor suggestion. She’d slept with him one night and turned his damn world upside down. And her own self-confidence had created a whole new sense of certainty within Ethan.

The woman made sweeping changes simply by being herself.

And he wanted more of it. More of her.

He didn’t give a shit who knew they were seeing each other or what trouble it caused. He didn’t give a shit if the smart thing to do would be to stay away. He only knew he needed more time with that woman. A lot more time.