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Ben and I had both asked Callum on many different occasions why he didn’t kick Hank out of the pack, but our uncle believed in second chances, and he thought there was hope for Hank yet, in spite of how hateful the man could be. Maybe he was right, but it made things tense around the plantation time and time again. Secret wouldn’t visit if she knew he was there.
“Yeah, Hank’s my older brother,” Wilder said.
I tried to take this new information and see him in a different light, hoping it would make Wilder less attractive to me. No such luck. He was still swoonworthy, especially given the way his shoulders and arms flexed while he worked with the hitch.
“Are you and your brother…um…close?” I couldn’t figure out a better way to ask, Are you also a racist prick who likes to beat up women? Southern girls were raised to not be quite so confrontational in our conversations with handsome strangers.
Wilder gave a half shrug, not paying much attention to me as he worked. “I know what you’re trying to get at,” he said finally. “I do know what he’s like, and I sure won’t defend his beliefs or the mistakes he’s made. But I also won’t badmouth my kin.” He wiped his hands on his overalls and glanced up at me, the green flecks in his eyes catching in the light, making him seem like more animal than man for a fraction of a second. “He’s good in his own ways, but his badness keeps people from seeing it. I know a different Hank.” The grimace had returned.
I guess I’d stepped on his toes in spite of all my efforts not to.
“I was pretty sure I knew all the wolves in Callum’s territory, so why have I never met you?”
He gave me a look that told me nothing about how he felt. “I was around for awhile. When you were off playing with the frogs and the gators. Came back to make sure Hank doesn’t have too rough a go. He’s been struggling a bit.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t really sure what else to say, and I didn’t want to ask more about his brother.
“All right, Princess, I’m almost done here. Why don’t you hop up in the cab?”
“Genie,” I corrected.
“Hmm?” He’d stopped paying attention again.
“My name is Genie. Eugenia, really. But…people, um…call me Genie?” Smooth. Dumbass.
Wilder glanced at me. “I know your name, sweetheart. But that won’t stop me from calling you Princess.”
I was about to tell him if he was trying to be proper, Princess wasn’t the appropriate form of address, Your Royal Highness was, but then I realized he wasn’t being polite. He was being condescending.
I sniffed and hiked my bag higher on my shoulder, trying to come up with a witty retort to wither him in his place. Secret would have known exactly what to say. My sister was the master of the soul-crushing one-liner.
After a much-too-long pause I said, “Wilder is a stupid name anyway.” I turned on my heel, hoping my pathetic rejoinder would at least get me the last word.
Before I could get into the cab of the truck I heard him say loud and clear, “Whatever you say, Eugenia.”
Chapter Five
The whole drive back we sat in tense, awkward silence. I was afraid to speak again because my foot had a tendency to wedge itself right in my mouth whenever I started saying anything. Wilder was no help. He was doing his best to project the air of a man who embodied strong silent type.
Fine. Whatever. It wasn’t like I needed to talk.
By the time we pulled up to the garage I was squirming in my seat, words bubbling up the back of my throat. He stopped at the front of the building and stared at me pointedly until I realized he was waiting for me to get out.
“Oh,” I mumbled, feeling stupid for not getting his hint sooner. Of course, if he’d just said something, I could have bypassed the embarrassment stage altogether. My mental catalogue of reasons to not like Wilder was steadily outstripping his more…attractive qualities.
I paced with barely constrained nervous energy by the garage door, not sure if I was supposed to go in or if I was meant to find my own way home from here. Wilder, from my short acquaintance with him, seemed like he might be the kind of man to make a stranded woman walk six miles by herself.
I could have called Callum’s estate and gotten a ride from here, but then I’d need to explain why I hadn’t called them in the first place. I’d rather get a lift with a cranky stranger than tell my uncle over the phone that I’d been the target of an assassination attempt.
Some things are better said in person.
So instead of leaving I waited, assuming he’d come back for me even though he hadn’t said anything one way or the other.
Plus the front door was locked.
I hugged my purse to my chest and was almost convinced he wasn’t returning when the big garage door behind me gave a loud groan and lifted. Trying to hide my startled jump, I steadied my breath and schooled my features.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.
