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“Well, I’m hoping you would’ve been pleasantly surprised. And proud of me. I’ve accomplished a lot so far, and I’m just getting started.” He smiled, rather pleased with himself. “I’m a catch, Wren. I can’t lie. But I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I can take care of you. Give you a home. We can live in the city. You always did love San Francisco. Remember when my parents took us there that one time?”
She did remember. More, she was the tiniest bit touched he remembered her love for the city. How she dreamed of living there when she grew up. Well, she was all grown up and still stuck in the same small town while he was almost . . . what?
Living her dream? No,
more like living her teenaged self’s dream.
Her head wasn’t in the clouds anymore. She was firmly rooted in reality. And her reality didn’t involve Levi.
“I was a jerk when I broke up with you. I realized that right away but didn’t know how to tell you. I was young and stupid, and I was afraid you hated me.” His gaze pleaded, his expression earnest. “Tell me you don’t hate me. Please.”
“I don’t hate you.” The words were honest. How could she hate him? She wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. But too much had happened, too many years had passed.
He watched her like he expected her to say something, but what? Her mind drew a blank. She needed to let him down easy. Needed to tell him she wasn’t interested.
But the words never came.
Chapter Fourteen
WREN STILL HADN’T come home, and it was late. Way past dinnertime, when she told him she’d be back. This was his last night off before he went back on shift, and though he hadn’t told her, he was hoping they could spend it together. Doing whatever she wanted, preferably naked.
And in his bed.
That she still wasn’t here and it was creeping up on nine o’clock was his own damn fault. He could’ve told her he wanted to see her, but he hadn’t wanted to look too needy.
Tate scrubbed his hand over his face. Christ. The girl was making him feel needy. Like a lovesick idiot.
He prowled around his house. Unloaded the dishwasher. Folded and put away his laundry. Performed all the usual mundane tasks he normally did the night before he went back to work. But throughout it all, he felt different. Lonely. He missed having Wren around. He’d always been a solitary creature before. Living alone suited him just fine. He dealt with enough people at work when he was stuck at the station for four days straight, sometimes longer when he was working overtime.
Going home was his quiet time. His sanctuary. But having Wren around, knowing she was at his house even when he wasn’t there, he . . . liked it.
Wasn’t sure what to do about it either.
It was almost eleven before he finally heard the dead bolt turn and the front door open and close quietly from within his bedroom. He’d left only a single lamp on in the living room. The rest of the house was dark, and she probably thought he was asleep. He should just let her go to her own room and forget about tonight. It was none of his business, asking where she was. Or whom she was with. The sneaking suspicion that had lingered all night clawed at him, forced him to go to his bedroom door and push it open.
Wren was tiptoeing down the hall with sandals dangling from her fingers. She came to a stop when she saw him, her eyes wide, shoulders going back as she stood straighter, a guilty expression on her face. His gaze swept over her, taking every little detail in. The pale pink sundress she wore with the slightly flared skirt that hit her just above the knees bared plenty of skin and hugged her curves. His skin went hot, and his dick twitched, yet he hadn’t even touched her. Hell, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked so fresh and pretty, her hair pulled up into a high ponytail and exposing that elegant neck he wanted to feast on with his lips and tongue. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes wide, like she was embarrassed he caught her sneaking into the house.
“I thought you were sleeping,” she said softly.
“I was worried about you,” he admitted as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Her gaze dropped to his arms, her eyes warming appreciatively, and a surge of lust shot through him. If she wanted him so damn bad, why hadn’t she come home sooner? Why had she taken off at all? When did everything get so fucked up and confusing?
The next words came out of his mouth as if he had no control over them. “You said you’d be home for dinner.” He sounded like a nagging wife.
She winced and took a step backward. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t make us dinner, did you?”
“No, you’re off the hook for that. You don’t need to apologize.” She looked relieved, but he didn’t want her relieved. He wanted her to realize he’d been waiting for her. He wanted to know where the hell she’d been.
More like who the hell she had been with.
“Okay, good. I’ll make it up to you.” Her face brightened, and she smiled. “I’ll make you dinner tomorrow.”
“I go back to work tomorrow.”
The light dimmed in her eyes, and she propped her shoulder against the wall. “Oh. Right. Maybe another time then.”
Tate waited for her to admit where she’d been, but she remained quiet. The way she dipped her head told him she wouldn’t necessarily look him in the eye either.
Confirmation that she’d been with exactly whom he thought.
