Free Best Worst Mistake by Lia Riley Page A

him.
    Wilderglanced at her and then away. Wordlessly, he undid the wrapper and wrapped the Band-Aid around his finger.
    She wanted to tell him she didn’t have to go to Thanksgiving. That she didn’t mean to barge into his whatever-this-was life he had going on in a haunted gulch at the end of town. But that would mean letting him know that he had gotten under her skin, was circulating through her system,the confusing feelings multiplying at an alarming rate.
    She wished he’d just say no. Or yes. Anything but ignore her. Every silent second was a form of intense but addictive torture.
    He wasn’t carving, rather poking the wood with his knife, these useless little stabbing motions, and it dawned on her.
    He doesn’t know what to do about this thing between them either.
    This thing.
    What else was there to call it?
    “Any requests?” she asked, shifting her weight, wincing at the telltale creak.
    That drew his gaze back.
    “For dinner,” she clarified. “What are you bringing?”
    He shrugged. “Napkins.”
    “What? Really.”
    “Yeah,” he ruefully admitted. “They left me in charge of the important stuff.”
    “Do you have any favorite recipes?”
    He set down hisknife. “You cook?” He sounded surprised.
    Better to get the truth out there as fast as possible. “No actually. I’m terrible.”
    “Well, Archer is doing the turkey with Grandma, Edie will bake bread and probably five different cakes, Annie is doing her Tofurky and probably other granola stuff that no one will touch but Sawyer because he’s under obligation.”
    “Okay. So . . .”
    “Rice KrispiesTreats,” he said suddenly.
    “What about them?”
    “My mom used to make them for every holiday.” His gaze turned wistful. “She let me lick the spoon. You’d have liked her. She had a laugh sort of like yours, loud but in a good way that made everyone feel good.”
    She hugged herself, as if it would be possible to hang on to the warm feelings he’d given. “Hot dogs,” she said. “That’s the tasteof my childhood. I used to spend summers out here with my dad as a kid. Every Fourth of July we’d go to the rodeo grounds and he’d buy me a hot dog. I can’t see one without thinking of him.” She scrubbed her face, willing away the tightening in her throat. “But no point moping. If he ever saw me sad he’d say ‘No use crying over baked beans.’ Which doesn’t even make sense come to think of it.”
    Wilder raised his head, blinking as his leg slammed against a table leg.
    He turned away, but without even seeing his face she knew. Something had shifted—but what?
    He drew a harsh, rattling breath. “Have we met before?”
    “I don’t think so.” She swallowed. The comfortable exchange had taken a sharp turn. She tried to think but her brain didn’t work right, not when she was lockedin that forceful gaze. “But maybe? I mostly spent my time here with Dad, going camping, riding his four-wheeler, hiking, and stuff like that. Sometimes I played with other kids during town events though. But I’m twenty-five and you’re . . .” He was older than her, hard to say by how much.
    “Thirty-one.”
    “Sorry to get us going, but we got to get going.” Sawyer came back in, face grim.“I got you a tow organized but I’m going to have to head in to work. I’ll be back for you around lunch,” he told Wilder.
    “What’s up?” Wilder asked.
    “Fire.” Sawyer shook his head. “On one of the new properties. No one was home, thank God. The owner lives somewhere out on the east coast, but the damage is extensive.”
    Quinn didn’t miss the long look the brothers exchanged before bothcleared their throats and went back about their business. She went to get Dad up and going, trying to ignore the unnerving feeling Wilder induced. Just when she had him pegged as gruff and bad tempered, he surprised her with some sort of awkwardly endearing interaction. And it scared her.
    It scared her how much she liked it.

 
    Chapter