“I disagree.”
The woman’s head whipped around at Wolfe’s voice. “What did you say?”
Wolfe stepped between them. “I said I disagree. People who don’t make a change in their life, who are too afraid of the unknown, are cowards. They watch life pass them by, getting meaner by the day because everyone seems to be happier than they are. You think it’s easy to walk away on your wedding day when you know you’re making a huge mistake? How about going to medical school for years and having the balls to take a break in order to be sure it’s what you want?”
Mrs. Blackfire’s mouth gaped.
Wolfe leaned in real close.
“I bet you would’ve stayed and been miserable. Does that make you strong? Smart? Or just unhappy?”
The elderly woman made a low squeak of rage. Her cheeks were mottled a dull red. “How dare you? You’re a guttersnipe. I’ll be watching every move you make, young man.”
Wolfe grinned and stepped back. “I’ll be looking forward to it. Have a pleasant evening, Mrs. Blackfire.”
He turned and led Gen across the lawn. Shadows fell, and the lead singer stepped up to the microphone to introduce their first song. Wolfe kept walking until he was at the back of the field near the fence, away from the crowd. Leaning against a gnarled pine tree, he crossed his ankles and snagged her fingers within his. She propped her back against the rough bark next to him, enjoying the warm strength of his grip.
“You didn’t have to say those things,” she finally said. Man, he smelled good. Like freshly washed laundry and sunshine. “She’s just a cranky, mean old lady.”
“I kinda liked her.”
“What? No one likes her! She’s evil. Wicked-witch evil. She’d probably steal Toto and take him to be destroyed. Probably right about me though.”
“She’s been hurt badly and never recovered.”
“How do you know?”
He shrugged. “I can tell. But she’s wrong about you. And I meant every word I said.” He turned his head and snagged her gaze. “Every. Damn. Word. You are the bravest woman I know. It’s the people who think they know the answers you need to be wary of.”
His eyes were so wickedly blue and deep she could lose herself. “You mean like I used to be?” Gen joked. “I used to be so sure of myself.”
“So did I.”
Something fierce and primal shook through her. Electricity pulsed between them, and suddenly Gen wanted his mouth over hers, all lips and tongue and teeth, until he possessed and claimed every part of her. She ached to open her thighs and take him deep. Dig her nails into his skin. Mark him. Surrender. Fuck. What was happening to her? Her heart hammered. “Wolfe.”
His name broke from her lips just as the drummer onstage went into a loud solo. People cheered him on and whistled, and the spell was broken. The tension eased, and she let out a shaky breath. Their relationship was changing, and she didn’t know what to do. A strange sexual chemistry buzzed and grew stronger. Maybe sharing intimate space was messing up her head. After all, seeing someone every day for meals, for TV, and in their sleepwear forced a certain closeness. Add a life crisis and general sexual frustration and—boom!—a cocktail of a mess.
Gen swore she’d keep it together. No way was she going to ruin her friendship because her body was weak.
No. Way.
Her upcoming date couldn’t come fast enough.
HE NEEDED TO GET laid.
Bad.
Wolfe dropped her hand and eased away. Her body was so soft and womanly. She’d finally put weight back on and lost the sharp edges stress had lent her. Those killer curves were back, and his fingers itched to grab and stroke and pleasure.
The shocks were coming faster and more frequently now. Moments when their eyes met and heat surged between them, leaving him weak. What was happening between them? Every night he lay on the couch, battling sleep and imagining her in bed. Cotton nightgown twisted around her thighs. Lips parted and moist as she breathed. Those beautiful corkscrew curls falling wildly over the pillow.
He was beginning to wonder if he’d sleep better in the car.
Wolfe used to be able to put his hands on her without fuss. He’d grab her around the hips and tickle her ribs, which she despised. He’d ruffle and tug on her hair. Wrap his arms around her for a big bear hug. Sure, they’d always had a connection, but the tiny simmer had exploded into a wildfire, and he didn’t know what the hell to do. What had changed? And why did he suddenly want so much more?
She must’ve reached the same conclusion, because she forced a smile and spoke with fake cheer. “Thanks for the defense, friend.” She subtly emphasized the word as if reminding both of them their true relationship. For his sake? Or hers?
He smiled back. “Anytime. Friend.”
They both turned and listened to the music. The band was pretty good, able to crank out a variety of alternative and some recognizable pop songs without sounding like karaoke. Gen swayed her hips and mouthed the words. She’d always been a great dancer, able to throw herself into the music and the moment without caring how she looked. A strange ache fluttered from his gut. What would it feel like to claim her, man to woman, rather than friend to friend? Would she explode in bed like she did in the daylight, full of energy and joy and determination to wring the most out of the moment?
The man who held her heart for keeps needed to be extraordinary. Needed to match the same inner lightness she exhibited in her soul. The memories flashed hard and painful. Wolfe scratched absently at his leather wristband, accepting he’d never be that man, never be good enough for her.