Page 23 of Torch (Wildwood 3)


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“What did you say?” he asked.

Wren shook her head. “Nothing important. So why couldn’t you get into Berkeley, even with your parents working there?”

“My grades weren’t good enough, and my parents said I had to earn it. I didn’t, so I signed on as a seasonal firefighter the summer after I graduated high school.”

“Your parents sound tough,” she said.

“They are, but they mean well. I can’t even bash them, because I think they’re pretty awesome. I’m an only child, so they focused all of their attention on me, hoping I’d turn out just like them, and I so didn’t. They’re two old hippies who had a child late in life and didn’t get what they expected.” He laughed.

“I’m guessing they’re still pretty proud of you. You’re fairly young to already be a captain.”

“I became a captain before I was thirty,” he said proudly.

“How old are you anyway?” She had no clue.

“Thirty.” He chuckled. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

“A younger woman.” They drove under a streetlamp just as he grinned at her, and she caught full sight of him and that cute smile. Her heart felt like it flipped over itself. “I happen to like younger women.”

She couldn’t help the snort that came out. “I’m sure you do.” Great. She was so classy.

“Did you just snort at me, Dove?”

“Shut up.” She liked how he kept calling her Dove. That was sort of cute. He was being so nice tonight. So . . . real and open.

“You did snort at me. I like it. Snorting is sexy.”

Wren giggled. Actually giggled. She blamed the champagne. “You’re full of it.”

“Just about anything you do I find sexy. That’s no lie.”

The seriousness she could hear in his voice caused her laughter to slowly die.

“You’re just joking.” She paused, and he glanced in her direction, his brows furrowed. “Right?”

He remained quiet as he continued to drive, drawing closer and closer to her place. Damn it, he needed to say something, even if it was yeah, I’m totally joking. She wanted to be put out of her misery.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, hitting the brakes so hard the car screeched to a stop. “Is that your place?”

She turned in the direction he was staring, her eyes going wide when she saw what he referred to. It was definitely her little cottage.

Fully engulfed in flames.

Chapter Eight

“OH MY GOD!” Wren burst out of the passenger door of Tate’s SUV, running toward the small cluster of fire engines that were parked directly in front of her house. Firefighters were everywhere, hoses aimed at the burning building, but even she could tell the damage was total. Flames shot out through the roof and the windows, a column of thick black smoke filling the sky. She stood gaping at the unbelievable spectacle before her when someone grabbed hold of her from behind, clasping her shoulders and giving her a shake before she was whirled around.

“Wrennie. Thank God you’re all right.”

She blinked her baby brother into focus, the stricken look on Holden’s face, the worry in his blue eyes. He crushed her into a quick but fierce hug, her face smashed against his chest and the yellow turnout coat he wore before he shoved her away from him.

“Stay back,” he warned her with a finger in her face. For once in his life he got to tell her what to do. Any other moment he’d probably relish it too. “We’ve been trying to call you for the last thirty minutes.”

It hit her that she left her phone, her purse, everything back at Harper and West’s. “I don’t have my phone with me,” she admitted, her voice soft, guilt swamping her.

“I was fucking scared you were stuck inside.” His expression was grim. He glanced over his shoulder at what was left of her house before he turned back to look at her. “I gotta go. You have someone with you, right?”

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