Wilde at Heart

by Tonya Burrows

  Leaving now was an irresponsible thing to do. Then again, staying was probably even more irresponsible at this point. Either way, if he offended James, he was putting his employees and brothers at risk of losing their jobs.

  He needed to learn how to control himself around Shelby. Maintaining control had never been an issue in the past, but now? All he had to do was touch her and he was lost, and it was causing him to make bad decisions.

  A quickie in the closet wasn’t worth losing everything he’d worked for. And it wasn’t going to happen again.

  Too many beats of silence passed as he mentally berated himself for losing control.

  Finally, Shelby looped her arm through his. “I already told everyone you weren’t feeling well when I left the table to come looking for you. Dylan can elaborate on that, and tomorrow you can call James and apologize. Tell him you had some sort of twenty-four hour thing.”

  Dylan was nodding. “Listen to your wife, man. Go home.”

  Reece swore under his breath. “All right. But if he starts talking about the merger—”

  “He won’t,” Dylan insisted. “He already said tonight wasn’t about business. Go. I think I hear Alicia coming this way.”

  Shelby pulled him toward the door, and he gave up protesting. They were right. Even before Shelby’s distraction, he hadn’t been in top form tonight.

  This was for the better.

  The valet retrieved his SUV, and he held the door for Shelby before circling around the hood and climbing behind the wheel. He didn’t say anything more to her—didn’t know what to say. He put the Escalade in gear and drove away from the mansion.

  “So.” Shelby said after the silence between them started getting heavy. “That was fun.”

  “It was stupid.”

  “Ouch.” She was silent for another moment. “I’m sorry. I really thought you were mad at me, and it…hurt. I just wanted to make you as uncomfortable in that situation as I was, but I swear I had no intention of letting it go as far as it did. It’s just…we were suddenly in the closet, and things were coming out of my mouth I shouldn’t have been saying, and all I could think of was how much I wanted you again.”

  Some of the knots in his shoulders loosened. He stopped the SUV at a red light and glanced over at her. “I’m sorry I let James make you uncomfortable. I should have spoken up, but—”

  “You’re afraid of what will happen to your companies if you do. At least your motives were altruistic. Mine were just childish. As usual.” Sighing heavily, she leaned the side of her head against the window. The streetlamps cast a soft yellow glow over her face, making her look years younger, very much like the lost little girl she once was. “Sometimes I wonder what’s wrong with me, why it’s so hard to act like a normal, responsible adult. Why am I so different?”

  “I know how that feels.”

  She turned enough in her seat to look at him. “No, you don’t. You’re Mr. Responsible.”

  “Yeah, but I know what different feels like.” The light turned green, but he didn’t hit the gas. He tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the steering wheel for a moment. Easier to show her what he meant than to explain. “Are you in a hurry to get home?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I want to show you something.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Shelby had no clue where he was taking her. They left the city and ended up in Arlington, but he still wouldn’t answer any of her questions about their destination.

  Okay, then. Top secret.

  She tried to fill the silence with small talk and, when that didn’t work, decided to go for something with a little more shock value. “I think I know who your blackmailer is.”

  That caught his attention. His gaze zeroed in on her. “What?”

  “You and Lena Schilling had a thing, right?”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Alicia.”

  “Jesus.” He shook his head. Pushed out a sigh. “No. It was one date, years ago. Afterward, she very insistently tried to invite me back to her place, and I turned her down. That was the end of it.”

  “Oh, you silly man. That wasn’t the end of it. She’s still bitter.”

  “Because that woman is bitter about everything. There’s a reason it was only one date. She’s a vile person.”

  “You turned her down, hurt her pride.” She ticked off each point on her fingers. “Then you fired her. And, you know, hell hath no fury and all that.”

  “One has nothing to do with the other. I fired her because she wasn’t doing her job. She hadn’t been for a long time, and the only reason I kept her as long as I did was out of loyalty. She’s been with DMW since the beginning.”

  “And I bet she feels entitled to the company because of it.”

  Reece opened his mouth but snapped it shut again without uttering a sound. “Shit,” he said after a moment. “You’re right. I’ll add her to my spreadsheet.”

  Oh God. He was trying to find his blackmailer with a spreadsheet? That was adorable, but Shelby had lived with her sister and Cam long enough to know that crime wasn’t solved by spreadsheets. The poor guy was doomed. “You should tell your brothers what’s going on, Reece. At this point, it’s silly to keep it from them. They already know we’ve been together, so the pictures aren’t going to faze them. They’re trained investigators. They can help.”

  He said nothing for so long, she didn’t think he was going to answer. “I know,” he finally admitted softly. “But I’d rather handle it myself. Greer’s gone MIA again and Vaughn’s obsessing over the disappearance of Lark Warren. Cam and your sister just got married, and it’s only courteous to wait at least a month before dumping my shit on them. And Jude…something’s going on with him, too. He’s been moping lately.”

  “Oh, I know why. He and Libby want a baby.”

  He jumped like she’d poked him in the side with a knife. “They what?”

  “Yeah, Libby said they’ve been trying for a few months now, since their wedding, but keep getting disappointed. They’re both pretty bummed about it.”

  He stared at her for a solid ten seconds until the light they were sitting at turned green. “How do you know all this?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “People talk to me. It’s a gift.” And a curse, but she wasn’t ready to open that can of worms with him yet. If she didn’t have the unique ability to get people to open up to her, she wouldn’t be trapped under Jason Mallory’s thumb now.

  “A baby?” Reece said, shell-shocked. “They want a baby?”

  “That’s usually how it works. First comes love, then comes marriage, then the baby carriage.”

  “B-but—” He actually stuttered. “No. That’s… I can’t picture Jude as a father.”

  “Really? I think he’ll make a great one. He has a good sense of humor, which I’ve heard is essential for parenting. Have you ever wanted kids?” The question slipped out without her permission, and she silently cursed herself for it. None of her business. Nope. His answer was not even a little bit her business.

  “No,” he said with absolutely no inflection in his voice.

  “Yeah.” A small ache throbbed in the center of her chest. She resisted the urge to rub at it. “Me neither.”

  They rode the last bit of their trip in silence until Reece guided the SUV into the driveway of a gorgeous brick colonial that looked like something out of a magazine.

  “We’re here,” he said, shutting off the engine.

  “Where?”

  “The house I grew up in.”

  She looked at the house again and, yes, she could so easily picture that childhood, one so far removed from her own she’d often wondered if that kind of life was even real. But she could picture Christmas lights under the eaves of the pointed roof and a wreath on the front door welcoming visitors. Could see the five Wilde boys running around in the large, sloped front yard, starting snowball wars and building forts. During the spring and summer, they probably climbed that big maple tree and swung in
the tire still hanging from the lowest branch. They had probably run through that front door with all kinds of bumps and bruises and scrapes, hoping for their mother to kiss the boo-boos better. Maybe there had even been a broken arm or two and a few rushed trips to the nearest emergency room.

  It was the kind of house she and Eva had dreamed about growing up in, the kind they’d seen on TV shows featuring happy families.

  Shelby blinked hard, appalled that her vision had started to blur. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “You didn’t believe me when I said I know how different feels.” He pushed open his door, and cold air rushed inside. “Come on.”

  Like the driveway, the path to the door had been cleared of snow recently. She knew none of the brothers lived here, so they must have hired someone to plow.

  No, not “they,” she realized, watching as Reece found the right key and slid it into the lock. This was all his doing. He paid for the upkeep of his empty childhood home. There was something tragic about that, and her heart melted a little.

  Inside, the house wasn’t dusty, but it did smell unused. It was like a time capsule, transporting her twenty years into the past, as if the brothers couldn’t bear to change anything from the way it was the day their parents died.

  Reece moved around the living room, turning on lamps, upping the temperature on the thermostat until the heat kicked on. Then he just stood there in the middle of the room, seemingly at a loss.

  She wasn’t sure what he expected her to say, so she said nothing and wandered. The stairs to the second floor were positioned at the back of the living room and shared a wall with the dining room, which had a table big enough to fit the entire Wilde family—dad, mom, and all five boys. She imagined dinnertime at that table had been a loud, exasperating, and entertaining family affair.

  Colorful marks on the narrow strip of wall between the stairs and the dining room caught her attention, and she moved in for a closer look. A height chart, indicating the Wilde boys’ growth from toddlers to young men. She could track Reece from the time he was a year old, all the way up to the last mark, dated several months before his parents died. He would have been thirteen at the time and looked to have hit a growth spurt, shooting up over his younger brothers, though Greer was still taller than him by quite a bit. Made sense because Greer was a huge guy. Like, intimidatingly big.

  She touched that last mark, imagined the two older boys groaning and rolling their eyes as their mother corralled them for the measuring. “You were happy.”

  Reece moved up behind her, close enough that the subtle scent of his cologne wrapped around her like a comforting hug. She smiled back at him. “I can tell. You were all happy here.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he also reached out, dragged his fingers along the marks. “We were.”

  “I’m sorry that ended.”

  “Yeah. Me too.” After another moment, he shook his head and grasped her hand, pulling her up the stairs. On the second floor, he opened the first door they came to and flipped on the light. “This was Greer’s room.”

  Like the living room, it looked untouched, as if teenage Greer would be home from football practice at any moment. There were posters of sports icons, and one of Pamela Anderson from her Baywatch days. Several trophies and awards lined the dresser—baseball, football, wrestling. He had pictures of his friends on his desk and nightstand, including several of a pretty blonde girl who must have been his high school sweetheart.

  Reece continued on down the hall and opened the next door. “This was the twins’ room.”

  Fascinated, she stepped inside and immediately knew which side of the large room was Vaughn’s and which was Cam’s. Cam’s more laid-back attitude showed in every nuance of his side of the room, and he was the kind of teenager who was interested in music and pop culture. Vaughn’s side of the room had a definite counterculture vibe to it with darker colors and Goth-rock band posters decorating the walls.

  She picked up a photo of the twins from Cam’s dresser. Teenage Cam was in his usual jeans and T-shirt combo—though the jeans were baggy, more in line with the style of the mid-90s. Teenage Vaughn was dressed head-to-toe in black, wearing a lip ring, spiky black hair, and a bad attitude.

  “Vaughn went through a Goth phase,” Reece said from the doorway.

  “So did I.” She set down the photo and grinned over at him. “And, you know, I’m not surprised. I can see why the culture would have appealed to him. Vaughn has this natural…intensity. As a teenager, he must have been a hormonal wreck trying to get control of it.”

  “He was, but he got over it when he joined the navy. Ended up funneling all that intensity, as you put it, into SEAL training. Probably the only thing that got him through.” He tilted his head to indicate the corner of the room where a pile of hockey gear sat. “But even at his angstiest in high school, he never stopped playing hockey. Both of the twins lived for the game. They were good, too. Dad always fantasized about one or both of them going pro.”

  “But they both went into the military instead?”

  “Greer’s orders.” He shut off the light and waited for her to join him in the hallway again. “After we lost our parents, the military was the only way we were all going to college. Jude and I both chose college first and enrolled in ROTC—NROTC for Jude since he chose the marines. Greer and the twins went directly into the military and studied for their degrees while serving.”

  The next door he opened led to Jude’s old room. Typical teenage boy, the walls lined with late 90s pop culture and Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition covers, but there was color here, a playfulness that was lacking from his brothers’ spaces. A handful of old board games sat on a bookshelf, along with some comics and video games. He had a few trophies as well, appeared to have played football and baseball, like his oldest brother had. There were also pictures of him hiking, rock climbing, kayaking, surfing—he’d been more outdoorsy than the rest of his brothers.

  “It looks like Jude,” she said and backed out of the room. “But I don’t get why you’re showing me all this.”

  He motioned to the final room at the end of the hall. “My old room.” She waited for a moment, but he didn’t move, so she walked over and opened the door herself, surprised to find a set of stairs leading up to the attic.

  “They kept you in the attic?” She meant it as a joke, but couldn’t quite hide the sudden horror that gripped her by the throat. Had their family not been as picture-perfect as it first appeared? Oh God. For his sake, she hoped they had been.

  He gave a small snort of laughter and shook his head. “Relax. They didn’t lock me away. I chose it. More room up there.”

  Curious now, she climbed the stairs. His room took up the entire attic, and he had computers everywhere, in all states of disassembly. Instead of posters of a favorite band, he had one featuring the cast of Stargate and pencil drawings of fantastical creatures. His shelves were stacked with books and comics. All neat and categorized, demonstrating his OCD.

  It was all so different from his brothers’ rooms, she stopped short and blinked in stunned surprised.

  This was what his apartment should look like.

  This was Reece.

  He had a bunch of gaming systems pulled apart, including some newer ones. While his brothers’ rooms had been frozen in time the year they each left for college or the military, Reece’s room had life.

  She turned to him. “You still come here.”

  “Sometimes. I do my best thinking here. It’s where I came up with the military simulations that started DMW Systems.” He walked out in front of her toward the desk, pushed aside a plastic crate of computer parts, and gathered up several of the notebooks stacked there.

  “What are those?”

  He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Just…something I’ve been meaning to pick up.”

  Okay, he didn’t want her to know. She could live with that. He was already sharing so much more with her than she ever thought he would.

&n
bsp; She turned in a slow circle, then walked to the other side of the attic, where his bed sat between two dormer windows.

  “So this is it,” she said and sat down on the bed. He should have looked silly standing there in his expensive suit, but he appeared more at home here than he ever had in his upscale apartment. She patted the mattress next to her. “This is what you wanted to show me?”

  He set his notebooks by the staircase and crossed to her in several long strides. The mattress sank with his weight, and she slid toward him. Their thighs touched, but he didn’t draw away from her, and she wasn’t about to draw his attention to it.

  “I’ve always been different from my brothers,” he said. “They’ve never understood me. Dad…” He sighed heavily. “He didn’t understand me, either. He tried, but we had nothing in common, and he didn’t know what to make of me. I can’t throw a ball to save my life, and even though I’m great on ice skates, I hurt myself every time I pick up a hockey stick.”

  She smiled at the mental image—could totally picture that—and leaned her head on his shoulder, lacing their fingers together. “Did your dad ostracize you for it?”

  “No. Not on purpose at least. He’d take my brothers out to hockey games, football, baseball. I just wasn’t ever interested, so I never went. He tried taking me to science fairs and things like that, but he was always bored out of his mind. Finally, when I was about ten, Mom was exasperated enough with the two of us circling each other that she signed us both up for karate lessons. And that was it. Our common ground. It was the perfect blend of physical for him and mental for me. I even continued studying after he died. I wanted to make at least second level black belt, so it’d kind of be like getting two. One for me and one for him.” His voice cracked a little on the last word, and he glanced away.

  God, what would it feel like to love a parent so much that twenty years after they were gone, you still grieved?

  Bittersweet, Shelby imagined, but she’d never know for sure. She’d never feel for her mother what Reece felt for his parents. If Katrina died tomorrow, the shock of it would hurt, yeah, but the loss of the possibility of a good relationship with her mother would hurt worse. And in her heart, she knew she’d be mostly…relieved.