Chapter 3
Wesley Preston McGuire
A man who never
gives in to temptation.
Well, almost never…
For the hundredth time since Tessa ran to me on the trail while her attacker lumbered off into the woods, I want to pull her into my arms and hold her.
Hold her, kiss her forehead, and promise her I’ll cut Carl’s heart out if he dares come near her again.
I have a reputation for being a calm and easygoing guy, but I have a dark side. Everyone does. I just keep mine under tighter wraps than most. Growing up, I witnessed volatile behavior from my brothers on more than one occasion—especially from Matty and Christian—but I never felt safe letting the wilder side of my own nature out to play.
Somehow, even as a child, I sensed that my dark side, once unleashed, wouldn’t be so easily reined back in. I was simply born with a little more rage than the average person. The unfairness in the world, the injustice in so many of our systems, and the way innocent people suffer while billionaires and corporations get off scot-free for their sins—affect me on a visceral level.
That’s why I became a lawyer. I wanted to do my part to ensure that the good guys won and justice was served. It’s also why I’m careful about who I choose to represent. I’ve passed up my fair share of paydays because I knew the client was in the wrong.
Living in a town as small as Bad Dog, everyone hears the hot gossip. I know who’s been cheating on whom, who’s hiding marital assets from a chronically ill spouse, and who yanked his kid from the baseball field by his hair after a Little League loss. None of those people are going to make it onto my busy schedule.
I loathe a liar and a cheat. I remind myself of that fact as Tessa tidies up in the tent and I start the stir-fry on my camp stove.
Yes, things have been awful with my girlfriend lately.
Yes, my head-clearing hike today convinced me we aren’t long-term-commitment material and I intend to end the relationship once I’m back in town tomorrow.
But we haven’t broken up yet. We’re still technically together, which makes how much I want to spill blood on Tessa’s behalf, then go to sleep curled around her curvy body, even more morally wrong.
But something came alive inside of me when I saw that man’s hand over her mouth. Her wide, tear-filled blue eyes met mine and, in that moment, I knew I would happily rip Carl limb from limb for her. I would destroy him with my bare hands, tear out his throat with my teeth, like some savage throwback to humanity’s caveman days.
It was primal…as primal as the attraction that pulsed through me every time my gaze drifted down to Tessa’s ass as she walked ahead of me on the trail.
And I’m fucking ashamed of myself for it.
I’m not this guy. I don’t ogle women. I don’t engage in fantasies about how hot it would be to drive my fingers through a near-stranger’s thick hair and tug her head back while I kiss her senseless. And I especially don’t have to fight an erection simply because a pretty woman sits down next to me in a tank top that shows her cleavage and a pink-and-blue flannel that brings out the turquoise in her eyes.
“Better?” I ask as Tessa settles onto the log next to mine beside the fire.
She sighs, tossing her impossibly thick hair over her shoulder. I swear, the woman”s golden-streaked chestnut hair hangs all the way to her waist, and I’m here for it. “Yes. Amazing what a wet wipe and a little ChapStick can do for a person’s morale.” She extends her hands toward the fire with a smile. “This is so nice. I always struggle to get a fire going when I camp.”
“Boy Scout,” I confess. “One who was really obsessed with s’mores and wasn’t about to miss a chance to get sticky before lights out.”
“Cute.” Her smile widens, making the dimple in her right cheek pop and smile lines crinkle around her eyes.
Fuck, her smile…
It lights up the dark every bit as much as the fire. It’s such a nice change.
I haven’t seen Darcy smile in so long. No matter how hard I try, it seems my girlfriend is always upset with me. Mostly because I’m not ready to move in together, and I’m especially not ready to let her twin sister come along for the ride.
Daria is, to put it nicely, difficult. Very difficult. After spending every day fighting for my clients, the last thing I want is conflict in my home. But Darcy refuses to see her sister’s shortcomings or admit that we haven’t been having fun together for a long time.
Bottom line, Darcy and I aren’t meant to be. We’re too different. I should have ended things in August when she announced she wasn’t up for Thanksgiving with the McGuires. She said it would be too overwhelming and she’d prefer to spend the holiday with her more “reasonably sized” family instead of dividing our time between her parents’ house and mine.
But my family is my family. Yes, there are a ridiculous number of them and they’re loud and nosy and we’re packed in like sardines at every holiday, but they’re mine, and I love them. A woman who can’t embrace my family isn’t the woman for me.
My mind involuntarily turns back to Tessa and how much she clearly enjoys a big, crazy McGuire family gathering. Last summer, she dove into the fun at our annual lake party with the same abandon as the rest of my siblings, and she and Melissa are so close, they’re already like sisters.
“So, what do we have here?” Tessa asks, shooting a suspect look at the pot and pan in front of me.
“Stir-fry and rice,” I say, motioning to the small plastic container of brown liquid I’m reserving until the end. “And a homemade honey sesame sauce I made myself. There should be plenty for both of us. I always overpack when it comes to food. My eyes are bigger than my stomach.”
“And my stomach is a spoiled brat,” Tessa says, shifting closer and nudging my hip with hers. “Scootch, mister. Let a professional take over before you burn the rice and ruin that stir-fry pan.”
I surrender my spatula with a soft laugh, not minding her sitting this close. Not minding it one bit. “Just like Melissa.”
Tessa sighs and shrugs. “Sorry. We’re chefs and control freaks. We can’t help it.” She turns back to the rice pot. She scrapes at the bottom and turns down the heat on the stove, muttering something beneath her breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” she says, her dimple popping again.
“No, you have to tell me. If you mutter it, you have to repeat it if asked. Those are the rules.”
“Oh yeah?” She laughs. “Good to know. I just said that I’ve also heard that you’re a terrible cook.”
I huff. “I am not.”
“Mel said you’ve given her food poisoning three times.”
My jaw drops. “I have not. And she comes over for fancy grilled cheese at my place at least once a month. She loves my grilled cheese.”
“She lets you cook grilled cheese because it doesn’t have any raw ingredients that might kill her if you don’t cook them properly.” She winces sympathetically. “Sorry. I’m a truth-teller. It’s a problem. Part of the reason I have very few close friends.”
I frown. “I doubt that.”
“No, it’s true. Most people don’t like a truth-teller.” She wrinkles her nose. “And I’m so busy with work and plotting my epic hike summer after next, I don’t have a lot of time to get out and socialize.”
Intrigued, I ask, “Epic hike. Sounds exciting. Where are you headed?”
“The Appalachian Trail on the East Coast. I’ve wanted to hike it my entire life, ever since I read about it in my dad’s nature books when I was a kid. I’m not going to do the entire twenty-two hundred miles, obviously, since I can only take two weeks off, but I figure I’ll get a good chunk of it done.” Her smile fades. “Though after today, hiking alone doesn’t sound like the most fun.”
“I’ll go with you,” I hear myself say, the words surprising me as much as they clearly surprise Tessa.
Her head jerks my way and her brows shoot up her forehead. But she’s smiling when she says, “What?”
I exhale a breathy laugh. “Sorry. It just came out. I’ve always wanted to hike it, too, and I really hated seeing that man’s hands on you. I don’t like to think about you running into someone else like that while you’re alone in the woods.”
Her grip tightens on the spatula as she flips the vegetables. “Yeah. Me, either.” She sighs. “Isn’t it sad? That I’m more afraid of people than I am of bears or mountain lions or catching a nasty case of poison ivy?”
“Not people. Men,” I say, my jaw clenching. “I’m so sorry. I hate that the women I love don’t have the freedom or safety I do. Humanity should be ashamed of itself.” Her gaze settles on my face, searching for a long beat, until I ask in a softer voice, “What?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know, I just… It’s nice to hear that. Nice to know there are still good men out there, after all.”
“Not always so good,” I murmur, a husky note in my voice.
Her lips part. When her gaze meets mine again it’s with the same awareness I’ve been feeling every time her thigh brushes mine. “Why do you say that?”
“Because if he’d given me the excuse, I would have hurt him. Badly,” I say, confessing to one of my sins, the one less likely to end in me betraying a promise to my girlfriend. “A part of me wanted to teach him what it feels like to be powerless and afraid. And that’s not nice. Not even a little bit.”
Her expression sobers, but her eyes remain locked on mine as she whispers, “Fuck nice.”
My lips twitch and my traitorous cock thickens behind my fly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’d rather be a brave, ballsy person who stands up for the underdog, any day.” Her pretty mouth hooks up on one side as the wind gusts through camp, sending strands of silky hair sliding into her face. “I don’t like being the underdog, as much. But into every life a little underdog must fall, I guess.”
I reach up, tucking her hair behind her ear, enjoying the moment when my fingers slide over her soft skin way too much. “We’ll get you a whistle and some mace. I can teach you a few self-defense techniques, too, if you’d like.”
“I’d like,” she whispers, transforming my semi into a full-fledged problem that makes me grateful for the shadows slowly closing in on our campsite.
Clearing my throat, I turn to take in the view across the valley. “Then we’ll make it happen.”
“Thanks,” she says. “And if you were serious about wanting a trail buddy, you’re welcome to join me. It could be fun. Even as a big, strong guy, it can be nice to have someone around to watch your back.”
“Yeah, it can,” I agree, turning back to her. Just meeting her gaze is enough to make the urge to kiss her almost irresistible. “And nice to have someone around who can cook, I guess.”
She arches a wry brow. “You guess?”
“Well, I haven’t eaten any of your cooking yet,” I tease as her chest puffs up at the challenge.
Fuck, her chest… I will myself not to glance down, but my stupid eyes have a mind of their own.
So, I glance.
And because she isn’t blind, Tessa notices.
She goes still and I go still, until there’s nothing but the soft hiss of the vegetables in the pan and the rustle of the leaves in the trees.
The tense moment stretches on, electric and loaded. I’m about to apologize for being a pig who can’t keep his roaming gaze in line when she whispers, “Well, then, you’ll just have to give me the chance to prove my culinary skills to you. Dinner? My place? Tomorrow night? This meal doesn’t count because I didn’t prep or plan it myself, and you burned the rice a little before I intervened.”
I smile. “Sorry about that. And yes, dinner sounds amazing,” I say, refusing to think about all the reasons I should say no.
I don’t want to say no. I want to say “yes,” more than I’ve wanted to in a long, long time. Besides, a lot of things can change by tomorrow night.
It isn’t the classiest thing in the world to break up with my girlfriend in the morning and go out on a date with another woman the same day. But my problems with Darcy are the reason I’m out in the woods, camping alone on a Friday night. I needed some space to breathe and think. And even if I’d asked her, Darcy wouldn’t have come with me. She’s afraid of the woods and finds camping an exercise in torture.
Which makes me wonder, “Do you think you’ll be more afraid now? Of the woods?”
Tessa seems to mull that over as she turns off the heat on both burners. Finally, she says, “Maybe, a little. But that won’t stop me. Cooking is my passion, but hiking and camping…” She gazes out over the twilight-kissed hills with an appreciation I feel in every bone in my body. “This is where I feel most alive. It feels like where I’m supposed to be, you know? And I’m not going to let a twat like Carl take that away from me.”
“You’re pretty amazing,” I murmur.
She shifts her focus my way. “You, too. So, do you want my honest evaluation of your sauce before I decide whether or not to pour it over our stir-fry?”
I smile. “Could I stop you?”
She returns my grin. “I mean, yeah. You probably could. If you asked very bravely.”
Catching her call back to our “nice vs. brave” conversation, I laugh. “Nah. I save my bravery for bigger battles. I defer to your expertise. If you say the sauce isn’t up to snuff, I trust you.”
I watch, trying my best to keep a neutral expression as she opens the small container, squeezes a few drops onto her finger, and brings it to her lips. But when her tongue sweeps across the pad of her fingertip, my breath catches and for a second, I forget how to breathe.
Then, she looks up and whispers, “That may be the most disgusting thing I’ve tasted in recent memory, Wesley McGuire,” and the urge to kiss her grows almost unbearable.
“Ever been told you’re a little bit of a brat, Tessa Martin?”
A big, bright smile blooms across her face. “You know my last name?”
“Of course,” I say. “I pay attention to interesting people.”
She traps her bottom lip between her teeth, making me ache to do the same. “Me, too. Shall we debate the benefits of hiking the northern stretch of the Appalachian Trail versus the southern while we eat? I mean, if we’re considering joining forces, we should see if we have similar ideas about what constitutes a good hike, right?”
“We should,” I agree, but I already know I want to join forces with this woman.
I’m not usually the kind to fall headfirst into a crush like this, but there’s something about Tessa. Something that keeps me hanging on her every word as we devour our simple dinner and the stars flicker to life in the clear sky, promising a beautiful night ahead.
It’s the kind of night that a person doesn’t forget.
The kind that has the potential to change things, forever…