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  He lifted a brow. "You hungry?"

  Between the candy diet and her nerves, she doubted any morsel of food would stay down. "No. But I'll make you something."

  He chuckled and wrestled out two six-packs of Sam Adams Summer Ale from the bag. "How about we get drunk instead?"

  She followed impulse and threw herself into his arms for a hug. David would've insisted on taking care of her health, frowning over alcohol intake, and watching exactly what she ate. She missed having no rules again. She missed Wolfe.

  Hard muscle and sheer power closed around her. Her head hit his chest halfway, but his arms held her with a tenderness that made an odd longing clutch at her throat. Treasured, yet not owned. Why had she never noticed the difference? The scent of cotton and soap filled her nostrils, clean and pure. She breathed in to savor the moment, then stepped away.

  "Hey." He tugged at her hair. "If I knew you'd be this nice to me, I'd offer you alcohol all the time."

  She snorted. "I'm always nice to you."

  Wolfe uncapped the bottle and handed it over. The icy brew slid down her throat and warmed her belly. The subtle taste of lemon danced on her tongue.

  "Not. You have a sick sense of humor. You enjoy torturing me. What about the time you set me up with your friend Molly?"

  A giggle threatened but she tamped it down at his accusing expression. "I was trying to find you a nice girl."

  "I guess a dominatrix is considered nice in today's society, huh? She brought her whip. And some scary-ass equipment that made me skip dessert. And I never skip dessert."

  Gen bit her tongue and tried for seriousness. "I didn't know it was that bad, I swear. She's a nurse in the NIC unit and complained she couldn't meet a cool guy. She said she enjoyed a bit of kink, not hard-core dungeon stuff."

  He blew out a breath, grabbed a beer, and ripped open a bag of pretzels. "Do I look like the submissive type? Or one who'd get off on being tied to a bed with a wrench at my balls? Not fun, Gen."

  She took another sip. "You told me you liked edgy sex. I was only trying to help."

  "Edgy, not death defying. How would you feel if I hooked you up with some guy who ordered you to drop to your knees and serve?"

  The memory hit hard and fast. Another argument. David complaining she didn't put his needs first and had gotten lazy in the bedroom. So he grabbed her hair. Forced her to her knees. Unzipped his pants. And waited.

  She'd heard those games were fun and spiced things up. But she'd only felt sick and used. The way he assessed her skill, berating her for not getting it right, until afterward she turned away, trying not to gag as he finally praised her, stroking her head like some prized animal who'd finally gotten a command right. Telling her over and over how he loved her, adored her, and wanted them to be perfect.

  Gen turned quickly, shutting her eyes and forcing away the image. No, not now. Had it been that bad? Why hadn't she told him to fuck off and thrown him out of the house? What was wrong with her?

  "Gen?"

  She shuddered and lightened her tone. "Sorry, as Dug from Up would say, 'Squirrel.' Lost my train of thought. Seems to be my new motto lately."

  He studied her in silence, then nodded. "I prefer my own motto from Finding Nemo."

  "What's that?"

  His gaze burned into hers with a deeper meaning evident. "Just keep swimming."

  Her muscles loosened and she managed a smile. "That's Lily's favorite movie."

  "Mine, too. Second is Avengers."

  She wrinkled her nose. "No way. I always thought you liked the mob movies. You never seemed like a superhero sort of guy."

  Massive shoulders lifted. "Nothing wrong with hoping for the good guys to kick a little ass." Something drifted across his face, a light of memory she craved to ask him about, but too soon it disappeared. "Have some pretzels, they'll settle your stomach. I'm gonna get changed real fast. Be right back."

  She nibbled on a few and sat in the living room to wait. The gentle whir of the island-type ceiling fan soothed her nerves. She settled on one of the plump couch cushions with her beer. He returned dressed in a simple navy blue bathing suit, T-shirt, and sandals, then took a seat on the opposite chair. The scene reminded her of a casual get-together between good friends. Unfortunately, it was much more. Her fingers tightened on the neck of the bottle. "Did you talk to my family?"

  He assessed her under heavily lidded eyes but his tone was casual. "Spoke with Kate. Told her we were going to lie low for a few days. She's going to take care of things on that end until you're ready."

  "Has David contacted you?"

  "Not yet."

  She pondered his answer for a while and chewed on her lip. Still raw, her insides twisted from fear and confusion, as if she'd stepped into Oz and didn't know how to figure things out yet. "You haven't asked why."

  "Don't need to."

  Gen studied him, trying to dig beneath his calm surface. He must be dying of curiosity, but he'd never questioned her once. "Don't you want to know?"

  He surprised her with a half grin. "Hell, yes. You're my best friend and I had no idea you were struggling. But you're not ready. When you want to talk, I'll be here. For now, you need some alcohol and a distraction. Come on, let's get out of here."

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her up. "Where? We can't get in a car drinking."

  "There's a trail in the back of the cabin that leads to a lake." He scooped up the beers and two towels, and headed out the door. The sun stung her skin, but as they made their way back into the cluster of trees, shadows cloaked them from the burn. The musky scent of earth and rotted wood drifted to her nostrils, and she picked her way over the moss and rocks in her flip-flops until the path opened up.

  They walked in silence. The birds sang, the trees watched, and the bugs hovered, occasionally landing for a quick bite. Wood snapped under her feet and a strange lightness flooded her body. How could she feel like this when a few hours ago she was in the church, about to marry David? Why did this moment strike her as more real than the past six months? She needed to figure it out, because the answer was the reason she'd run.

  Unfortunately, the truth seemed more dangerous than denial right now.

  "Here it is."

  The lake was more of a pool that looked as if it emptied at the end of its journey, with a crooked dock that seemed about to fall apart and tall marsh grass surrounding it. Gen stared at it and wondered if the monster alligators would get her like in Lake Placid if she put a toe in. She put her hands on her hips. "You want to try to kill me or something? You couldn't pay me to go in there."

  He snorted. "Chicken. It's safe. I caught Sawyer and Julietta out here skinny-dipping. I felt blind for a week."

  She laughed. "I remember catching Nick and Alexa fooling around in my parents' walk-in closet one visit. I couldn't even look at them, let alone eat Sunday dinner. Ruined my appetite."

  Wolfe dropped the beer, kicked off his sandals, and walked onto the crumbling dock. "Saratoga Lake is about eight miles long, but narrows down to Fish Creek. We're at the tail end. Sawyer wanted privacy more than recreation. This is an isolated paradise and you're complaining. Much better than a fancy chlorinated pool."

  "Speak for yourself, dude," Gen said.

  Wolfe peeled off his T-shirt and revealed perfectly defined pecs and abs of steel. The elaborate serpent tattoo curled like smoke and started at the right side of his belly, moved up his chest, wrapped around the upper arm, and landed just below the ear. She rarely saw him unclothed, unless it was in some designer advertisement, but the breadth and detail of the tat was a living, breathing thing. He kept his wristbands on. Gen knew he never took them off. Ever. She bet he even showered and slept with them, too. At first she'd thought it was some weird fashion thing, but over the years, Gen became used to them, as if they were part of his body. And she still didn't ask questions.

  She remembered the first time she met him, when she was twenty years old. A family dinner at Alexa's. Max and Michael--husbands of Alexa's
closest friends, Carina and Maggie--had brought Wolfe and introduced him to everyone.

  She'd been instantly fascinated. From his ink, to his shaven head, various piercings, and massive muscles, his entire aura sucked out the air in the room and left it silent. He appeared obviously uncomfortable, his mouth turned down in a gorgeous sneer, as if ready to give everyone a big fuck you. But he remained politely still, scanning the crowd, until their gazes met and locked.

  A weird connection fired between them. As if they'd met before. Recognized each other. And were being reintroduced.

  She had no idea why. Izzy had been the hell-raiser and scoped him out like a hungry she-wolf. Her father frowned and seemed ready for battle. Alexa chattered nonstop and tried to ease the tension, while Maggie, Alexa's best friend and honorary aunt, spoke proudly of his modeling career and smarts.

  Gen walked over, offered her hand, and a smile. "Welcome to the family, Wolfe. I'm Gen."

  He paused. For one long, endless second, she wondered if he'd diss her. Instead, his hand clasped hers, warm and strong and safe. "Nice to meet you."

  All Gen knew about him was that he'd once been homeless, then lived in Milan with Sawyer and Julietta, and now stayed in New York with Max and Carina. He was also attending NYU for business. Since they were both attending the same college, he'd been seated next to her at dinner.

  They fell into an easy camaraderie. Somehow, she understood he held secrets so deep and dark they may never come to light. She didn't care. She sensed on a gut-level instinct he had more honor than most men his age.

  After dinner, they'd found themselves alone, talking outside. She'd asked a bunch of questions, wanting to get to know him, but he only gave one-word answers. Tension tightened his frame, and she realized he grew more and more distant. Fragments of the conversation drifted past her memory.

  "DON'T YOU LIKE TO talk about yourself?" she asked curiously. This man, who her twin sister pronounced extremely fuckable, seemed so much more than his shaved head, tats, and leather wristbands. Secrets danced in his eyes. She also sensed they were painful. Another reason he didn't like to talk?

  "No," he answered. "I don't talk about the past. Just today."

  His answer fascinated her. A deep connection flowed between them, as if they'd met in another life and time and were just now picking up where they left off. "So I won't ask you any other questions. We'll just be friends."

  The need and suspicion mingled in those gorgeous blue eyes. "Friends? I bet one day you'll ask me stuff. Get mad at me for not sharing. Girls do that."

  She smiled. She wasn't like most girls. "Pinky promise, then. We won't discuss either of our pasts unless you want to. No questions." She liked the idea of having a clean slate with this man. Someone who didn't judge her on previous actions or performance, but accepted her for the woman she was at the moment.

  He crinkled his brow. "Pinky promise?"

  She sighed with impatience. "You know a better way? A swear is a swear."

  He reached his hand out tentatively. Their pinkies twisted and locked. Pure energy rushed between them, but it was like a nice, heady buzz that made her feel good in her tummy. "Pinky swear," he said gruffly.

  "Pinky swear," she repeated.

  And then the best part of all happened. For the first time since they'd met, he smiled at her. Her heart lifted and filled up, and Gen knew she'd be happy around that smile all the time. Finally, she had a guy to tell her secrets to and with whom she could be safe, laugh, and just enjoy the moment.

  YEARS LATER, IZZY STILL drove her crazy questioning why she wouldn't fuck him. Even Kate, Kennedy, and Arilyn--her closest girlfriends--wondered aloud why they'd never hooked up. Gen noticed the general attraction, but she was able to glimpse the big picture. Wolfe couldn't hold on to a relationship. He loved sex and teased her with details of his greatest escapades while she groaned and covered her face, screaming "TMI!" But it was just about the physical. When it came to emotional commitment, he checked out, and Gen realized what they had was so much deeper and more meaningful than a quickie affair.

  She studied him in his navy blue board shorts and wondered why their relationship was so easy, even from the start. Maybe because she let him be who he wanted and lifted the threat of painstaking questions. They were able to accept each other on their own terms. Maybe because she allowed him to show her who he was now without expectations of who he had been. And she bet it had been very, very bad.

  He poised on the end of the deck in full masculine glory and cocked a brow. Her tummy tumbled, then steadied. She was used to it and never analyzed the sensation. He was an attractive male and she'd have to be dead not to have a physical reaction. The occasional attraction was easily dealt with when she thought of losing their friendship. "Coming in?"

  "No."

  "Thought you grew up in the country. Come on, Gen. I hate when you act like a girl."

  She stuck out her tongue and snagged another beer. Then she plopped her butt onto a fat rock and stretched her legs out. "I am a girl, you idiot. There are bugs and fish and things in there. No way."

  "You disappoint me."

  He got ready to dive and her inner devil ignited to life after months of being on vacation. "Better watch the spider crawling up your leg."

  "What!" He hopped from foot to foot in a clumsy dance, reaching down and swiping his legs in a parody of comedy. Then he toppled into the water.

  She laughed so hard she thought she'd crack a rib, especially when he surfaced and spit water out of his mouth. "Oh, that was priceless," she gasped out. His fear of spiders always charmed her. He was big and bad and avoided nothing, except the eight-legged crawly creatures. Reminded her of Indiana Jones and snakes. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it."

  His gaze narrowed. "You know payback is a bitch, right?"

  Gen gulped for air. "I left my groom at the altar. Surely that will be enough for the day?"

  He grunted. "Maybe. Maybe not." He dove under in one smooth move and did a few laps. She sat back and took pleasure in the view without guilt. Lean muscles cut through the water with grace and speed. A bee circled lazily, hummed, then dove for a bright purple flower. The vivid blue sky reminded her of Wolfe's eyes. "How's the hospital?"

  "Good." She took another swig and thought of David. Seemed all detours led to her fiance. Ex-fiance. Since he ran the surgical unit and she was under his direction, her career may also be in jeopardy. "Busy."

  "You haven't liked your job in a long time, have you?"

  She swiveled her head back. A flare of temper hit. "It's more than a job. It's my entire life. College, med school, internship. Days, nights, weekends. I never faltered, never questioned, never lost focus. I stopped asking myself if I liked it a long time ago. I just live it."

  He swam back and forth as if he didn't have a care in the world. And he didn't. She was the one who'd blown her life up and took off. "Why?" he asked.

  She blinked. "Why? What type of question is that? Because if you want to be a recognized surgeon, you have to work yourself so hard there's only pieces of you left. Then you get to slowly put them back together."

  He floated in seemingly utter content. "Just doesn't make sense to me. If I didn't like working at Purity, I'd leave. Do something else. Ever think you've been so obsessed with the prize you never stopped to think if you'd like doing it?"

  She choked on her beer and on the bitter taste of outrage. How dare he question her motives. She'd been working to succeed in the medical field since she'd first practiced first aid on her dolls. When her brother, Lance, declared his intention to study medicine, she'd been pissed off he stole her career. Ambition, work, and achievement of goals made sense. Working to save a human life and strive for greatness made her worthy. Yet her best friend treated it like a side job, just casually picked from a litter of careers as if it meant nothing.

  "My prize is saving a life. Yours is a nice experience sleeping away from home."

  She hated her bitchiness, but he never lost the smoothness
of his strokes. "Ouch. We have a spa and a chapel. Surely that makes up for the shallowness."

  "Why are you trying to piss me off? This is my life's work. You just don't quit something because it's too hard or you're not enjoying it anymore."

  "Have you ever given up on something you didn't like?"

  The question threw her off. She guzzled half her beer, took another, and popped off the cap. "Yeah, gymnastics. I had no coordination. Mom had dreams of an Olympic run. I fell off the balance beam once and cried for an hour. So I quit."

  "How many lessons did you suffer through?"

  Gen frowned. "Well, I finished up the term, of course. Then I never signed back up."

  "Ever stop a book halfway if you don't like it?"

  She shuddered with horror. "Are you kidding? If I start it, I finish it. I don't know how people sleep not knowing the ending."

  "What if you order something at a restaurant and hate it? Do you send it back?"

  "If it's cooked properly and I just dislike the flavor? Of course not. I clean the plate; it's my fault for choosing it."

  "Hmm, interesting."

  She glared at his back as he moved from a float to a steady backstroke. "What's interesting? And what's with the asinine questions?"

  "You take your choices seriously."

  Gen tilted her chin up. "Of course. Choices mean consequences. Not following through is a type of failure."

  "Or maybe it's just a good old-fashioned mistake you need to fix. Not every path in the road needs to be followed. Sometimes it's smarter to quit and go home."

  His words burned through her, rising up and swallowing her whole until she shook with pent-up frustration and rage. "That means failure."

  "No. Just a wrong turn."

  His gentle voice scraped at her like spits of gravel. She practically shook with fury. When her father abandoned them, she'd made the decision to do everything right and never make trouble. She had--and her father came back. Her once-splintered family healed. Being good paid. Following the rules gave rewards. Wolfe didn't know what he was talking about. She jumped up from the rock, put her beer down, and walked to the edge of the dock. Her finger jabbed in the air. "Who are you to dump all this psychobabble on me? You're just as driven in work as I am. You detest failure, laziness, and mediocrity."

  His laugh splintered the wooded silence. The sun began to sink slowly over the hill. Shadows danced from the swaying trees. "Yeah, I do. You look mad."