Wilder Days

“Who the hell are you?”

Del was a little taken aback. This was Vic’s daughter? The teenage girl stood in the main room of a very nice condo on the beach, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. Vic’s pride and joy was dressed entirely in black, from her clunky tennis shoes to the baggy shorts to the oversize T-shirt. There were, at quick count, six earrings in one ear. Only one in the other. And her head…

“Noelle Eve Lowell,” Vic said, sounding horrified. “What have you done to your hair?”

The teenager took audacious eyes off of Del and laid them on her mother. “It rained yesterday. We didn’t have anything to do.” She touched a hand to her hair, which was a very unnatural shade of red and cut too short…on one side. On the other side, soft red strands brushed softly against one cheek.

“It rained,” Vic said, “and you just happened to have hair dye with you? And a pair of scissors, too, I see?”

“We brought them with us just in case.” Noelle shuffled one foot. “Michelle’s hair turned pink and I think I cut it too short on one side. Her mom is really not happy.” Her expression hardened. “Why are you here, Mother, and who is the thug?”

Thug?

“Please tell me you’re not going through a midlife crisis and actually sleeping with this guy.”

“Noelle!”

“And if you are, why did you feel the need to drive all the way down here to, what…introduce us? I really don’t need to be dragged into your midlife crisis, Mother.”

The three of them were alone in the classy, nicely furnished condo. The Severns, Noelle’s friend’s family, were down at the beach. Just as well.

“We’re taking a little vacation,” Del said calmly.

Noelle glared at him. “I’m already on vacation, moron. And I still don’t know who you are.”

He’d dealt with tough customers before, many of them tougher than Vic’s daughter. Maybe. “Del Wilder,” he said, stepping forward and offering his hand. “Your mother and I are old friends.”

Behind him, Vic continued to mutter about her daughter’s hair.

“Old friends. How nice.” Instead of extending her hand to shake Del’s, Noelle placed hands on hips and struck a defiant pose. “Why on earth do you want me along on your little vacation? I’m sure to cramp your style.”

Vic had decided that she didn’t want Noelle to know what had happened. Not yet, anyway. Del had to agree. It was sure to be traumatic for a fourteen-year-old to know that someone had just tried to blow up her mother.

“Family vacation,” Del grumbled.

“You’re not family.”

He ignored her. “Fishing, picnics, a cabin by the lake.” He hadn’t told Vic where they were going, but she’d know soon enough. The cabin he’d rented was close enough to Birmingham that he could make a run to the office, if he had to, far enough away from town that they wouldn’t have to worry about being spotted by anyone passing by. No one but Shock knew the location of the hideaway.

“I hate fishing.”

Del had a feeling he and Noelle could stand here all day and never agree on anything. If he told her the sky was blue, she’d come up with some kind of argument. He’d rather face the business end of a gun than deal with an obviously mixed-up fourteen-year-old.

Vic stepped forward, passing close to Del as she approached her daughter. “Pack your things and let’s go,” she said.

Noelle opened her mouth to argue, but Vic didn’t give her a chance.

“Now.”

Noelle sighed, but she turned around and disappeared into a bedroom to do as her mother asked.

Del crept up behind Vic and laid a hand on her shoulder. “She hates me.”

“She’ll get over it.”

He tried to think of something positive to say. The words stuck in his throat, until he finally said, “She’s a pretty girl.”

“Yes,” Vic said softly. “She is.” Beneath his hand, he felt Vic relax. “Don’t take anything she says too seriously. The past couple of years have been tough.”

Del’s thumb rocked against Vic’s shoulder, an easily offered comfort she didn’t brush away. “The divorce?”

Vic nodded. “At first, she didn’t really understand. I think she spent years waiting…waiting for Preston to come home. When she finally realized that he wasn’t coming home, she got angry. She’s still angry, but she’ll be okay.” Vic took a deep, stilling breath. “The tough-girl image is an act, mostly.”

Del nodded. “I understand.” Okay, it was a lie. He didn’t understand. But since he wouldn’t be around long, he didn’t need to, right?

He didn’t like the uncertainty that washed through him. What if he was around for a while? What if even after the Mayrons were caught and Vic was safe, he continued to see her?

Like she’d let him. Vic had made it clear that truce or no truce, he was not welcome in her life.

The spot Del had chosen as their hideout didn’t look like much, but Vic approached the cabin with the hope that the inside would be better.

It wasn’t.

“Oh, my God,” Noelle said as she stepped from the sagging front porch into the main room of the sprawling cabin. “This is a joke, right? We’re not actually going to sleep here.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of roughing it, kid?” Del asked with a wide smile on his face.

“This was all your idea, wasn’t it, Wilder?” Noelle asked, casting a narrow-eyed glance over her shoulder.

Del’s grin remained in place.

Noelle began to explore, very quickly discovering that there was no phone and no air-conditioning. She expressed overly exuberant delight upon finding indoor plumbing.

While Noelle disappeared down the hallway to choose the bedroom that would be her own, Vic faced Del.

“I’m sure we’ll be okay here,” she said, steeling herself to send Del away. “Thanks. When all’s clear, I guess you’ll let me know. Right?” Her heart caught in her throat as she looked up at him; her mouth went dry. He had to get out of here. What if one morning he looked at Noelle and just knew? Then what?

She didn’t like the way he looked at her, his smile fading, his eyes going dark. “Who said I was going anywhere?”

“You can’t…”

“I can,” he interrupted. “And I will.”

He took one step toward her. One step was all the room she had. With that simple move he robbed her of her safety zone, her personal space, the shield that kept him at a distance. This close she could feel his heat, see the stubble on his jaw. The faint, intriguing scent of his body drifted to her.

“You’re still angry,” he said softly.

“Of course I’m still…”