Chapter 14 #3
Tension flooded back into his frame, as if the guitar had been the only thing keeping it at bay. And the second he set the water bottle on his knee, his thumbnail found the side of his index finger again in that slow, repetitive tell.
What the hell is going on with him? Whatever it was seemed to only be getting worse. It wasn’t Jake’s presence. He seemed to like the guy and was obviously willing to talk to him.
He’d already reassured me that he wanted me here, so it wasn’t about me. It was something else. Something making him uneasy tonight.
I turned to retake my seat but slow-rolled it, letting my gaze track a slow, quiet loop around the campsite, searching for anything that might have upset him.
My eyes went to Wolfe’s van first—force of habit from a thousand extractions in low-visibility terrain.
The side door was closed. Shades drawn the way they’d been earlier to keep out the sun.
Nothing obviously wrong. But the picnic table had been moved.
The table was angled differently in its spot than it had been this morning, like he’d repositioned it for some reason.
There were also lots of dusty footprints around the van that hadn’t been there earlier, like Wolfe had a lot of visitors… or like he himself had wandered around it several times.
I sat back down and pretended to watch the fire.
As people chatted with Wolfe and Lena, discussing the songs and passing along compliments, I watched his eyes move around the campsite, returning over and over to his own site in the near distance.
Every time he glanced at his van, his head tilted, and his eyes squinted a little as if trying to see something through the dimming light.
Meanwhile, Jake had moved his chair closer to Wolfe, but Wolfe seemed not to have noticed. He just did his little finger thing again.
Across the ring, Thierry was telling some story about accidentally smuggling grapefruit into California that had Armand shaking his head with fond exasperation. Lena laughed. Brennan’s guitar began to play underneath it all, unhurried.
Wolfe smiled at the right moments. Said the right things. He was good at it—always had been, despite what Derek and Jude assumed about his inability to mask. He’d had plenty of practice in situations far more demanding than this one.
But he’d drunk the water like a man trying to wash something down. And there was the thumbnail, dragging slowly across the ridge of his finger.
I moved over to the fire ring as if to check on the marshmallow roasting Claudia had finally given approval to. My spot was close enough to overhear Jake when he shot his shot with Wolfe.
“What time will I see you in the morning for our date?”
My stomach twisted. Date?
“Oh, uh… can I get a rain check? I need to talk to Trace about some stuff. Family business.”
I felt the awkward pause like a prickle on the back of my neck. Was he using me as an excuse to blow off Jake? Or did he actually want to talk to me? And if so, what about, exactly?
The two of us? Or something about Jude and Derek or the foundation?
Regardless, I was happy to help and would be even happier if it meant I could spend more time with him.
“Can’t you do that over email or something?” Jake sounded cranky. “We made plans to see the overlook—”
“I know, but it’s important. It’s why Trace came to Colorado.”
Jake sighed. “Okay, then we’ll go the next day. The waterfall will still be there, and I know you’re going to love it.”
I glanced over in time to meet Wolfe’s eyes before they skittered away and looked back toward his van. “Yeah, uh… okay. That sounds fine. The day after tomorrow.”
Fuck.
I needed to stop. I didn’t like Jake, but I did trust Wolfe to handle the situation.
The choice between Jake and me was Wolfe’s to make. And I could understand why he hadn’t assumed our one hookup today had suddenly made us exclusive, even though it stung.
After everything that had happened between us this morning and the blinding realization I’d had a few minutes ago, the last thing I wanted was to treat Wolfe like a child who couldn’t make his own decisions.
And that, I realized, was the real reason I hadn’t told Wolfe about my Fletcher Coe discovery. Because I wanted, more than anything, for him to choose to tell me himself. To choose to trust me.
Instead of sticking around to keep an eagle eye on the guy like he needed babysitting, I forced myself to call it a night.
After thanking the Reynosos for the food and giving a few smiles of acknowledgment to Wolfe’s other friends, I folded my chair and tucked it under my arm.
Wolfe’s eyes widened. “You’re leaving?”
I smiled at him. “Yup. You know where to find me if you need anything. Good night, Wol— Will.”
I paused at his van on the way back to my small tent—the footprints still bothered me—but I let it go.
I was in love with Wolfe Marian.
My best friend’s son.
A man with an explosive secret identity.
A man who seemed to have no idea that half the country was on a hunt to expose him.
A man I was going to protect at all costs.
Which meant I—we—had much bigger concerns than whatever was making Wolfe anxious tonight.
But as it turned out, I was wrong.