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She, on the other hand, ate doughnuts for breakfast and cheeseburgers for dinner.
“I want you to leave.” She turned away from the sink and folded her arms in front of her chest, staring her brother down. “I want to be alone.”
“Aw, come on, Wren,” he started as he stood, but she shook her head.
“No. Don’t try to wear me down or tell me I’m being silly. I’m mad, Lane. You and West—and Tate—must really think I’m stupid, that I can’t handle this.” It hurt to include Tate in that short list. She was furious with her brothers—West should consider himself lucky he wasn’t here—but she was devastated by Tate’s decision to keep this from her. Yes, he had a job to do, and some things would always need to be kept quiet.
But this involved her. She thought she meant enough to Tate that he would treat her with respect and let her know when—hello—her life was in danger.
She guessed she was wrong. And that’s what hurt the most.
TATE UNLOCKED THE front door and walked inside his house, breathing deep the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Knowing that Wren was somewhere in the house made his steps lighter and his heart
pound. He couldn’t wait to see her. Wrap her up in his arms and kiss her. Push her into bed and have his way with her.
Yeah, that was the plan for the day. Naked bedtime. He hoped she was still down with that.
He set his bag down by the door and headed for the kitchen, hoping she was in there. Maybe she was making him breakfast. Maybe she was sitting at the table sipping a cup of coffee, her hair tousled and her eyes sleepy, wearing one of his T-shirts. That sounded nice. That sounded better than nice.
But when he entered the kitchen, she wasn’t there. Only the coffeemaker greeted him, percolating noisily as it finished brewing the coffee.
Pushing aside the disappointment that crashed through him, Tate left the kitchen and started down the hall toward his bedroom. Maybe she was in his shower. Now, that was a beyond-pleasant thought. A naked, soapy Wren under a stream of steaming-hot water was a fantasy he hadn’t had yet. He could help her get clean, assist her with those hard-to-reach places. Only if she would do the same for him . . .
She wasn’t in the shower. She wasn’t in his bedroom either. Nope, she was back in the guest room, fully dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, her hair swept up into a tight ponytail, the bed neatly made.
Her gym bag she used to keep at Delilah’s dance studio sat on top of the bed. She set a stack of folded clothes inside, turning on a gasp when he rapped on the doorframe. “Oh.” She rested her hand against her chest. “You scared me.”
“You knew I was coming home.” He leaned against the doorjamb. “I texted you.”
“Right.” She dropped her hand and nodded, her expression noncommittal. It was devoid of any emotion, even her eyes, which was . . . weird. Wren was the most expressive woman he knew.
When she didn’t say anything else, icy-cold unease trickled down his spine. “What’s going on, Dove?”
She lifted her chin, a hint of defiance making an appearance. Christ, she was beautiful, even without a lick of makeup on. He liked her best in her natural state, especially in her naked natural state, but clearly something was wrong. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be seeing her in his favorite naked state today.
“Do you have something you want to tell me?” she asked, her voice crisp.
“Uh . . . ” He searched his mind, which had been fully occupied with the various sexual positions he wanted to try out with Wren only a few seconds ago.
“Maybe about the fire?” she suggested helpfully.
Dread filled him. He didn’t like the overly pleasant tone of voice. Or the way she watched him, like she wanted to jump on him and scratch his eyes out with her fingernails. Fuck. Did she find out about the circumstances behind her house fire?
“I discovered that Lane was following me,” she said, giving him a pointed look. “And that the reason for his following me has to do with the arsonist being the one who burned my house down. He mentioned that he and West thought it was a good idea to keep it from me—and that you agreed.”
“I never fucking said that,” he said vehemently, making her back up a step. Damn it, he didn’t mean to sound so angry. “I didn’t agree with their decision to keep it from you.”
“Yet you did anyway. Even when you told me in the first place that the fire was arson.”
Right. He’d never denied it. So why was she angry? “I fully planned on telling you today. Right now.” Well. He would’ve kissed her first. Touched her. Dragged her into bed and given her a few orgasms before finally informing her of what was up. “I told Josh and I told your brothers it was messed up that they were keeping this from you.”
“But you kept it from me too, Tate.” He started to protest, but she cut him off. “I know you told me you thought it was arson right after it happened, but when they asked you to keep quiet about the recent details, you went along with them. And kept it secret from me.”
“I said I’d agree with their decision until I was off. The moment I came home, I planned on telling you everything.”
“You should’ve told me from the very first moment they told you. That’s what couples do. They don’t keep secrets from each other.” She turned so her back was to him and started shoving the rest of the piles of clothes into her bag. “I should come before them.”
“You do.” He went to her, touching her shoulders, but they stiffened beneath his hands, and he let them drop. “I knew it was a bad idea, keeping this from you.”
