My dad reluctantly added, “With Ted Porter as her father, it’s not a surprise that she grew up hating us.”
“You never told us why he doesn’t like you,” Damien said.
My dad shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. All I’m trying to say is that you can’t blame her for the things she said. She wasn’t raised by the biggest Wilder supporters.”
I rolled my eyes. None of that mattered to me. I gave my mom a stern look.
“Don’t get any ideas, Mom. If I never see the she-devil again, it’ll be too soon.”
“What’s a she-devil?” Tessa asked.
Cody ran his hand through his hair, giving me a hard look. “Thanks, man.”
I grimaced while my other brothers broke out laughing. “Sorry.”
I was thankful that throughout the rest of dinner, no one said another word about a certain auburn-haired woman.
My mom wouldn’t let me catch a break, though. “Sweetheart, you really are due for a haircut.”
I ran my hands through my hair. The brown locks went down past my ears, which irritated my mother beyond belief. It was one of my big reasons for never getting it cut; I got the ends trimmed and that was that. If my mother had her way, she would tie me down to the kitchen chair and cut it like she had when I was in middle school.
My brothers all spoke up about my unruly hair. They loved giving me a hard time, especially because I was the only one that grew it out. They kept their hair trimmed and styled just right.
What we had in common were our gray eyes that we got from our mother and our facial hair, which none of us really shaved, from our father. Cody was the only one that kept his somewhat under control, shaving every few days, but my other two brothers and I had closely trimmed beards and that wasn’t changing anytime soon.
A FEW DAYS LATER, I was in the local grocery store picking up a few necessities—ramen, mac and cheese, and toilet paper. As I was strolling down the pasta aisle, I froze as I watched a beautiful woman with auburn hair attempting to reach for something on the highest shelf. I couldn’t see her face, but I could tell she was gorgeous by the curves of her body, perfect for me to grab hold of.
I hadn’t found a woman in a long time that set my body on fire without even meaning to. I had to hold back a groan when she stood on her tiptoes and her shirt rode up just enough for me to see a small sliver of her soft skin. I couldn’t handle standing back any longer; I would definitely be getting this woman’s number.
When I was just a step behind her, the box she was reaching for fell on the ground. I bent down to help her pick it up, giving her my fiercest smolder when our eyes met.
I froze for an entirely different reason when my gray eyes met her brown ones.
I would recognize that face anywhere.
“You.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, picking up the box she had been struggling with. “As always, you are so eloquent. You should write a book,” she told me dryly.
We both stood up, immediately stepping back from each other.
My shock slipped away, my lips curling into a sneer. “Forgive me; I thought you had to be invited into places.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you implying that I’m a vampire now?”
“If the shoe fits,” I told her with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh, you’re so clever,” she said monotonously.
“What are you even doing back here? Your husband finally realize who he actually married?”
Something dark flashed in her eyes, but before I could analyze it, it was gone.
“It’s none of your business why I’m here. Now, kindly move out of my way.”
Part of me wanted to continue arguing with her, but I thought better of it. I stepped to the side, giving her one last glare before she walked past.
I couldn’t help but turn to watch her leave, my eyes lingering a little too long on her glorious ass. I hated how certain parts of my body stirred at the sight of her in those jeans. Before she could see where my gaze had landed, I twisted away.
As I paid for my items a few moments later, I had to remind myself of who she was and what she had done to me in high school. She may have had a body I would love to get my hands on, but her personality left a lot to be desired.
At least that’s what I told myself as I walked back to my car.
There was no way in hell that I would ever think that woman was attractive.
Nope.
“SO, I HEARD ELIZABETH Porter moved back to town?” Noah Marshall asked me the next day at work.
It was a slow afternoon; the two of us were finishing some reports before Captain Scott had the chance to reprimand us.
Noah and I had been friends almost our entire lives; when we were in high school, and were forced to think about our future, both of us had our hearts set on the police force. I loved the idea of being able to protect my family and the town that gave me so much. Noah, on the other hand, knew that women had a thing for men in uniform.
“Say her name two more times and she’ll appear in the middle of the station,” I grumbled.
Noah laughed out loud.
“All I’m saying is that she was pretty attractive in high school. Now that she’s single and back in North Hills, I might have to take my chance.”
I just rolled my eyes; Noah hated relationships almost as much as I despised Elizabeth.
“Get too close to her and she just might suck out your soul.”
Noah smirked, giving me a side look. “Have you ever thought about just taking her somewhere and having some great hate sex? It really is much better than just regular old fucking.”
I recoiled like Noah had told me I needed to cut off my foot with a rusty kitchen knife. “I wouldn’t touch that woman with a ten-foot pole.” Although, I couldn’t help but think back to the day before when I saw her in the market. The way those curves had just begged for my hands...
Nope, not going to happen.
Not today, Satan.
Chapter 4
ELIZABETH
I had been in town for a week and each day I was feeling more and more like myself. I ate breakfast with my parents, then went to Flour Power to spend some much-needed time with Mac. When she closed the shop, the two of us would go on a walk around town. It was a nice way to reminisce about our childhood while also seeing all the differences that now adorned the area.
A few of those nights, we had gone to the diner that had been a staple in the town since long before I’d been born. The other nights we had gone to my parents’ house like old times, sitting around the kitchen table eating my mom’s cooking. It was better than any kind of therapy.
Even my run-in with Nick Wilder Tuesday night couldn’t crush my hope for a better life. After dealing with Jon for six years, I could take anything that Nick had to throw at me.
At the moment, I was watching Mac knead dough while we talked. I tried to help her in the kitchen, but she was neurotic with her cooking and baking. With how amazing her treats turned out, she had every right to be picky about how I handled her food.
It was best for me to just wash and dry the dishes, that way I could still be helpful while we talked. Being apart for five years meant we didn’t have a shortage of topics to talk about. At least Mac didn’t. There wasn’t a lot about the last few years that I wanted to talk about.