“Have you ever given up on something you didn’t like?”
The question threw her off. She guzzled half her beer, took another, and popped off the cap. “Yeah, gymnastics. I had no coordination. Mom had dreams of an Olympic run. I fell off the balance beam once and cried for an hour. So I quit.”
“How many lessons did you suffer through?”
Gen frowned. “Well, I finished up the term, of course. Then I never signed back up.”
“Ever stop a book halfway if you don’t like it?”
She shuddered with horror. “Are you kidding? If I start it, I finish it. I don’t know how people sleep not knowing the ending.”
“What if you order something at a restaurant and hate it? Do you send it back?”
“If it’s cooked properly and I just dislike the flavor? Of course not. I clean the plate; it’s my fault for choosing it.”
“Hmm, interesting.”
She glared at his back as he moved from a float to a steady backstroke. “What’s interesting? And what’s with the asinine questions?”
“You take your choices seriously.”
Gen tilted her chin up. “Of course. Choices mean consequences. Not following through is a type of failure.”
“Or maybe it’s just a good old-fashioned mistake you need to fix. Not every path in the road needs to be followed. Sometimes it’s smarter to quit and go home.”
His words burned through her, rising up and swallowing her whole until she shook with pent-up frustration and rage. “That means failure.”
“No. Just a wrong turn.”
His gentle voice scraped at her like spits of gravel. She practically shook with fury. When her father abandoned them, she’d made the decision to do everything right and never make trouble. She had—and her father came back. Her once-splintered family healed. Being good paid. Following the rules gave rewards. Wolfe didn’t know what he was talking about. She jumped up from the rock, put her beer down, and walked to the edge of the dock. Her finger jabbed in the air. “Who are you to dump all this psychobabble on me? You’re just as driven in work as I am. You detest failure, laziness, and mediocrity.”
His laugh splintered the wooded silence. The sun began to sink slowly over the hill. Shadows danced from the swaying trees. “Yeah, I do. You look mad.”
“I am mad!”
He swam over and stood. “How mad?” he drawled.
She growled. “Really mad.”
“That’s what I thought. Better cool you off.”
She didn’t have a chance. With a graceful motion, he loomed up from the water like some type of monstrous sea creature, grabbed her, and pulled her in. Her shrieks got cut off by the slap of warm water closing in. She hit the bottom, and her feet scraped against soft moss before she kicked herself to the surface. The huge grin on his face pushed one vow to the forefront of her mind.
Revenge.
Oh, it would be sweet.
“Proud of yourself?” she drawled, shaking her head like a wet dog to get the hair out of her face.
“Kind of. Things were getting way too serious.”
His outrageous statement made her laugh. Damned if he’d be the one to let her sulk, even on her failed wedding day. Wolfe sensed when she needed to stew, be depressed, or push through. Right now, there were so many emotions churning like choppy waters she didn’t know where to focus. The water helped clear her head.
Gen kicked her feet, treading water. “Ewww, it’s all soft and gooey on the bottom. God knows what’s down there.”
“Scared of a few fish?”
She pursed her lips. “Don’t come running into my room tonight.”
One dark brow shot up. He swam around her like a shark circling his prey. “A proposition? I had no idea you lusted after my body.”
She snorted and almost choked. “Oh yeah, it’ll be romantic. Me, you, and the big hairy spider I’m putting in your bed.”
The humor drained from his face. “Don’t fuck with me.”
She laughed and stuck out her tongue. “Bet there’s a lot around here. Ever seen one of the wood spiders?” She gave a shudder. “Furry, with fat legs and superfast, so you can’t catch them.”
He tried to laugh it off but she caught the paleness to his features. Damn, this was too much fun.
“You know what comes with spiders?” he said.
“What?”
“Frogs. Lots and lots of green frogs. Like Kermit.”
The horror washed through her. “I told you that in secret,” she whispered. A creepy shiver raced down her spine at the image. “You’re a horrible, evil human being.”
“I find a spider in my bed, and you’ll wake up to a portrait of Kermit.”
“Asshole. I was drunk when I confessed. Drunk info should be sacred—you broke the cardinal rule.” She’d had a dream once that haunted her to this day, and was stupid enough to confide in Wolfe after too many beers. She’d woken up from a wicked nightmare of Kermit the Frog faces attacking her. Instead of sweet smiles, they had bloody teeth, and had gone after her like a herd of piranhas. She hadn’t been able to watch a Muppets movie since.
“An eye for an eye and all that,” he said. Then dove beneath the water.
Gen watched him swim, appreciating the raw power and grace of his body and flexing muscles. Awareness trickled through her, but she was an expert at ignoring it.
Wolfe needed so much more than a quick lay or another affair. He needed a friend. Gen knew him better than anyone, and was gifted with the trueness of his soul. Sex was the surefire pathway to disaster, heartbreak, and the loss of one of her most important relationships.