The arsonist was still at work. Another fire had been started over the weekend. It was at an old abandoned cabin high up in the mountains above Wildwood, and there was no reason for someone to burn it down with the exception that it was just . . . there.
That’s what she told Josh Bailey when he came around to talk to her. “He didn’t want to burn my house down because I lived there,” she’d said. “He started the fire because he had the opportunity, and my little house was just . . . there. I lived on an isolated road. Not many people came out there, and I’d been gone all day. It was the perfect scenario for him.”
Josh had agreed, though he still wasn’t ruling out the possibility that she’d been targeted. Whatever. What was done, was done. She wasn’t going to walk around in fear. This was her hometown, for the love of God. She knew mostly everyone who lived here; most of them she’d known her entire life. She wasn’t scared, not of anyone.
What she was scared of though? The possibility that she could lose Tate forever.
This was her moment to start fresh, and she wanted to start with Tate by her side. Tate making her laugh, making her sigh with pleasure, making her feel safe. She didn’t want to lose him. She’d give up everything else if she knew it would mean Tate was forever in her life.
But she wasn’t sure if he felt the same way.
Delilah tugged on her hair, making Wren yelp. “You need to talk to Tate,” Dee said.
“I’d love to. But it’s kind of hard to do when he’s not even in town.” Wren sighed and stared at her lap, clutching her hands together. “He should hate me.”
“Please.”
“He probably thinks I hate him.”
“You’ll eventually forgive your brothers. Surely you’ll forgive Tate too?” Delilah asked.
“I have to forgive West and Lane. They’re my brothers. Family. They were just being their usual overprotective selves.”
“I’m guessing Tate was doing the same—the overprotective bit.” Delilah tapped Wren on the shoulder, and she turned to meet her friend’s gaze. “Isn’t it nice to know so many big brawny men are watching over you?”
Wren made a face. “Sort of. It’s more annoying than anything else. It’s like they don’t trust I can make the right decisions.”
“More like they don’t trust the weirdo who’s out there setting fires,” Delilah said. “It had nothing to do with you and your supposed inability to function in life. More like they just wanted to make sure you were safe. They care about you. Your brothers love you.”
“Yeah.” Wren plucked at a loose thread on her faded flannel pajama pants. “I love them too, even though they drive me nuts.”
“And what about Tate?” Delilah nudged Wren’s shoulder with her own. “I’m guessing your moping around has been over him.”
“You already know this.” She shook her head and sighed. “I probably blew it with him, huh?”
“Doubtful. He’s been on a fire. Not like he’s off getting drunk and seeking out other women.”
Ugh. She hated the image Delilah just put into her brain. But she knew it wasn’t true. Tate had been working the entire time since she last saw him. He wasn’t out finding someone else. Hopefully he was still thinking about . . . her.
A girl could dream, at least.
“Word on the street is that Tate’s engine is coming back to Wildwood later today,” Delilah said, sending her a look.
Hope lit a bright flame in her chest, making her heart thump. “Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not. West already told Harper, and she told me.” Delilah’s gaze swept over Wren, and she wrinkled her nose. “I think you need to go make yourself pretty so you can be at the station to greet him when he arrives.”
Wren leapt to her feet. “Does it matter if I look pretty or not? I mean, he shouldn’t care if I’m all made up with perfect hair and stuff.” If she remembered correctly, he seemed to like her best naked and makeup-free, with her hair a mess. He didn’t care if she ate burgers for dinner or ice cream for . . . every meal. He just seemed to like her for her.
“I’m not saying you need to go glamorize yourself. Just . . . take a shower. You kind of need one.” Delilah held her nose like Wren was stinking up the place, which made her laugh. “Go. Take a shower. Get ready for your man’s return home.”
By the time Delilah finished her sentence, Wren was already making her way to the bathroom.
TIRED. HUNGRY. DIRTY. Tired. Starving. Smelly. Those were the main words that kept repeating themselves in Tate’s brain, reminding him that he needed a break in a major way. He’d never been happier to be let go from a fire than he was when he left this one. It had been particularly brutal. He and his crew had covered the day shift, setting backfires to ensure the main fire wouldn’t rage out of control in rugged terrain. His muscles ached from all the climbing, and the weather was miserably hot, typical for late August. Worse, they’d had to sleep outside on the rocky ground, which sucked major balls.
He’d tossed and turned through most of those nights, pretending to sleep under the stars, too uncomfortable, his thoughts filled with Wren. He missed her. He wanted to beg for her forgiveness. Figure out a way to earn her forgiveness so she’d give him a second chance. A woman like Wren Gallagher didn’t just walk into a man’s life every day. She was special. Sweet. Smart. Beautiful. Funny. Sexy. Feisty. And at one point, she’d been his.
He wanted her back.