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“Well, you better tell her that.”
“I don’t think she really cares. She’s too wrapped up in seeing Levi again,” Tate muttered.
“Ah, jealous much? You’re not acting much like a friend right now.”
Whatever. He was a man who wanted to have sex with his friend. Perfectly normal. That whole just-friends thing was hard to maintain, and he realized quick the more time he spent with Wren, the more he liked her. Lately they’d spent a lot of time together.
Meaning he liked her a hell of a lot.
“If you don’t like Levi, then I don’t like Levi,” Tate said, trying not to sound too defensive. “He seems like an asshole.”
“Then he hasn’t changed much.”
“He wants to see Wren. Hang out with her.” Stare dreamily into her eyes. Kiss her. Strip her naked. Fuck her hard, before he left her again, crying alone in the dust.
Tate blinked. Where did those thoughts come from? And why did he feel so damn possessive at the mere idea of Wren being with another man? Worse, her first love? There were all sorts of emotions usually tangled up in an old high school romance.
“Barf,” West said, making Tate chuckle. Who said barf anyway? “I hope she makes up some excuse and doesn’t talk to him. Guys like that, they’re trouble.”
“Why do you say that?” Tate asked.
West shrugged. “Because it’s true. He only cares about himself and what he wants or needs. Forget what Wren wants. With Levi, it’s all about . . . Levi.”
Tate frowned. He could say the same about himself. He’d wanted to get in Wren’s panties for so long it was all he could think about. Now that he’d actually gotten to know the woman and realized how much he enjoyed being with her, he definitely wanted more. He wanted to know more, learn more, discover more. Wren made him feel greedy.
More, more, more.
Those words were a mantra in his head. Unrelenting. Reminding him yet again what hadn’t happened last night. She had to know he wanted more though. Right? Or was she clueless? Was she going to run back to that idiot high school ex and try to remake memories?
Hell, he hoped not.
“That’s why you shouldn’t mess around with her either. You’re not good with your feelings,” West said, his gruff words interrupting Tate’s thoughts.
How the hell did West know he wasn’t good with his feelings? And when did he become an authority on another guy’s feelings? He sounded like a pussy-whipped asshole. Like Harper Hill had West by the balls and refused to ever let them go.
Fucking great.
The idea of falling into that type of situation terrified him. Is that what he had to look forward to if he ever got into a serious relationship? Wren clamping her fingers around his nuts and never letting them go? Hell, making a permanent gesture by forcing him to tattoo her name on his fucking ball sac and proudly proclaiming him as her property?
A shiver moved through him. Yeah, he’d gone off the rails with that last thought, but he couldn’t help it. That sort of behavior was exactly why he’d avoided relationships. All the permanency, the mere idea of having one woman for the rest of his life . . . it was scary stuff.
“You don’t know shit about my feelings,” Tate muttered, shaking his head.
“Right. Fairly certain we’ve had this conversation before, and just like last time, it revolves around Wren and your intentions in regards to my sister. I’m hoping you get what I’m saying.” West tried to stare him down, but Tate only rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. Don’t fuck with her heart, Warren. Or I’ll fuck with your—”
A knock sounded, startling them both, their heads jerking toward the open door. Josh paused in the doorway, his expression grim, stride purposeful as he entered the tiny office. He nodded at them in greeting before he settled into the chair next to Tate’s. “Good morning, ladies,” he murmured, taking a sip of the coffee he clutched in his hand before he spoke again. “Hope I’m not disturbing you two lovebirds.”
Tate wanted to roll his eyes but controlled himself. The guy could actually have some solid, interesting information, and trying to find the crafty arsonist was driving them all crazy. They were like stupid puppies chasing their tails but never able to catch them. Whoever the son of a bitch was, he strung them along, too damn smart for his own good. Scary smart.
He hated it. They all hated it, especially Josh. Oh, and Lane Gallagher. The arsonist got Lane’s cop blood pumping, but the investigation wasn’t under his jurisdiction, and that infuriated him. Not that Tate could blame him.
“What’s going on?” West asked, getting right to the point. “Who burned my sister’s house down?”
Josh held
out his hand in a defensive gesture, shaking his head once. “We don’t know yet. The incident is still under investigation.” He took a deep breath, glancing at Tate quickly. As if he knew what he was about to say would piss him off. “I can’t rule out yet that the fire wasn’t started by the occupant.”
“Are you saying Wren started the fire? You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Tate all but roared. West sent him a look, and he clamped his lips shut, trying to contain his fury, but it was no use. The words burst from him like he had no control. “Why the hell would she do that anyway? She lost everything. Every single thing she owned with the exception of the clothes on her back and a few things she’d left in her car. She doesn’t even have renter’s insurance.”
