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I stare at him for a few seconds, wondering if his words are genuine. “Is that what you do, Wilder? Let your anger change you?”
He flashes another killer grin, and my pussy clenches between my thighs, arousal flickering to life within me.
“Not anymore, no. But as a kid, before and after foster care, I went wild in my anger. White hot rage is what they called it.”
I blink at his words. “You were in foster care?” Somehow, I don’t see Wilder in the system. Too controlled. “That must have been rough,” I say quickly.
He nods. “It was hell, but strangely, it was better than where I’d been before.” His shoulders sink a little as he talks, his eyes taking on a faraway gaze of someone visiting the past.
“My folks weren’t up to the task of being parents. They had too many vices. Loved to party too much. They were too young to know what they were giving up. At least, that’s what I tell myself.” He lets out a huff of laughter and refills our glasses. “What about you, Maven?”
Why do I like the way he says my name? It makes me pay extra attention to his words.
“Are you close to your folks?”
I take my own trip into the past for a moment. “Close? Not really. I mean, I check in with them every Sunday to make sure they’re all right because they’re getting up in age. We’ve never seen eye to eye on most things, though, beginning and ending with my career.”
He blinks. “They don’t like that you’re a pastry chef?”
“It’s a hobby in their eyes, and worse, they want me to be a boss, not a service worker.”
The outrage in Wilder’s eyes is endearing. “But you are a boss. You make the most mouthwatering shit ever.”
“Thanks,” I tell him sincerely. “But my parents are old with old-school ways of thinking. From their perspective, they didn’t work their asses off for me to go and serve people for the rest of my life. They’re happy I’ve found my place in the world, but they wish for more.”
“I’ll take that over what I was given,” he snorts and downs a shot of the cinnamon whisky.
“Were you adopted out of foster care?”
“Hell, no. I was too old and too much trouble. Ended up in a group home situation until, well, until I got into a shit load of trouble.”
His lips curl at the memory, and I am officially intrigued.
I lean forward on my knees with a smile. “Tell me.”
“You sure you want to know about my wild ways?”
I nod. “Absolutely. You seem too adorable to be a troublemaking kid.”
“Oh, but two things can both be true. The problem is no one looks like anything online, especially when they’re hacking into federal government servers.”
My eyes go wide with shock. “You hacked the government! As a kid?”
He nods. “I did. It was a stupid dumb shit move, but in my mind, they would see how easy it was, let me fix it for them, and give me a job. Bye-bye, foster care. Adios, old life. Hello, better life. You know?”
I laugh and nod. “I can’t say I wouldn’t have tried the same damn thing if I had your skills. So, you’re self-taught?”
“Mostly, yeah. The FBI showed up on my doorstep and hauled my puny ass in to interrogate me, sure I was working for some nefarious group. When they realized I was just a stupid kid, they put me in front of a judge who changed my life.”
I blink and sit back to refill our glasses. “Okay, that’s not what I was expecting.”
“Glad I can still surprise you.” He winks and knocks another shot back quickly. “Jail or the service. Said the military turned him into a man and gave him the discipline he needed to become the man he was. Said it would do the same for me, or he’d see me back in his court year after year. I chose the military.”
“Wise choice?”
He shook his head thoughtfully. “Some. I did get discipline, and they honed my computer skills for their benefit. I didn’t like that I was tasked with going after people like me, poor and stupid, so I put in my time and got out as soon as I could.”
“Wow.” I sigh and cross my arms around my stomach. “That is an unexpected origin story, Wilder.”
