Page 22 of Hurricane Love

“Yeah, no shit. That’s what this morning’s conversation will be about. Making a plan to dump his ass.”

“All right. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Keys are inside.”

Wylie jogged up the stairs, then thought to ask, “Hey, you got any wine or anything? If I end up going to this dinner, I want to bring the host a gift, you know, like a grown-up would.”

“You can check my liquor cabinet, but I don’t think there’s any wine in there,” she said.

Wylie headed inside, knowing where everything was storedalready. He found Nancy’s car keys hanging on the hook, then inventoried her liquor cabinet. No wine, but there was an unopened handle of Tito’s, which seemed like a crowd pleaser. Unless Diego’s family didn’t drink? He did say they were religious, but Wylie recalled a pig roast that Frank had hosted at his house one New Year’s Day for pit employees. There had definitely been alcohol there. While he debated his decision, Nancy’s Ragdoll cat Snowball jumped onto the counter and mewled for a pet, which Wylie happily obliged.

“Just wait till you meet my new man, Snowball. Definitely an animal person. Yes, he is. Bet he loves puppies and babies and sweet, little kitty cats just like you.” He closed the cabinet door, having made his selection, then made his way back out to the porch. “I took this,” he said to Nancy. “I’ll pay you back.”

She waved him off. “Just fill up my tank for me. I’m on E.”

“You got it,” Wylie said, then started to jog down her steps.

“Wylie,” Nancy called and he turned back around. “Take it slow with this one. You’re almost at the finish line, and you’ve worked too hard to get distracted by a man.”

Wylie had seen enough men ruin people’s lives to know better than to pin his hopes and dreams on one, however charismatic and cool he might be. But he appreciated her cautionary advice, nonetheless, and that she and Hannah were both looking out for him. They didn’t want anything to derail his big plans. “Come on, Nancy, give me a little credit here. I’m way too smart for that.”

“Yes, you are,” she agreed, then waved him off with her cigarette. When Wylie arrived back at his trailer, Hannah was just rousing from bed. He started the coffee maker while she washed her face in the bathroom. Once they’d each had a cup, Wylie figured he was allowed to ask, “So, what’s the plan?”

She sighed like the world was ending and dropped her head in her hands. “I don’t know, Wy. I’m so confused. Can we just…not talk about it? Please?”

Wylie nodded, his stomach sinking. He knew what that meant. She was staying with him.

While pressure washingthat afternoon and listening to music on his cans, Wylie contemplated how the hell he might convince Hannah that she didn’t need that weak-ass man in her life. But all of his reasons were recycled versions of past arguments that hadn’t worked. If only he could kidnap her and Kayla and force Hannah to detox from that asshole’s brainwashing.

A tap on his shoulder had him spinning around to find Diego haloed in sunshine with an easygoing grin on his face. Bronzed skin, white teeth, full pink lips, and a jaw line that could cut glass, Diego could be a model, for real. Not that looks mattered all that much, but damn, his beauty sometimes caught Wylie off guard.

“Hey there,” Wylie said after he’d removed his headphones and powered off the compressor. He must have lost track of time–happened to him a lot when he got into the zone.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt. You weren’t answering your phone,” Diego said, shaking the one he held in his hand.

“Sorry about that. Didn’t have it on me.” Wylie was shirtless with damp jeans and white clamming boots that went up to his knees. Sweating buckets under the unrelenting Florida sun, he probably looked to be on the verge of heat stroke, despite steadily hydrating throughout the day.

Meanwhile, Diego was clean and freshly shaven with a crisp button-down shirt and pressed slacks. His dark hair was slicked back, and his sunglasses hung from the top of his shirt, unbuttoned enough to reveal his smooth collarbone and the edge of some scripted tattoo in Spanish. Wylie wanted to dirty this man up so bad, in the best way possible.

“You clean up nice,” Wylie said, letting his eyes linger. This was his first time seeing Diego out of his pit uniform.

“You really say the first thing that pops into your head, don’t you?” Diego asked with amusement.

“For the record, that wasn’t the firstorsecond thing that cameto my mind, because those things were nasty as hell, and I’m a gentleman, thank you very much,” Wylie insisted.

Diego laughed but was sizing him up in a similar manner. Wylie could only hope that he liked what he saw. “You still want to go with me to this dinner thing?” Diego asked, the intensity of his stare belying his nonchalant tone.

“Fuck yeah, let me just put this shit away and I’ll meet you at my place in ten. Grab something out of the fridge if you’re thirsty.”

Diego nodded and headed in that direction. Wylie took a moment to watch him walk away while admiring the view. Diego’s ass was meaty and thick, and those buns were tight enough to bounce quarters off of—Wylie would love to go to town on that ass, but he was getting ahead of himself again.

He unscrewed the garden hoses and wrapped them up for storage, then wheeled the power washer over to the maintenance shed and grabbed his shirt on the way back to his trailer. Outside the door, he kicked off his boots and shrugged out of his wet jeans and socks, laying them over the wood railing to dry in the sun, so that he wore only his damp boxers.

Inside Diego was sitting on the couch with an opened can of Dr. Pepper. “You get these for me?” he asked, lifting his drink.

Wylie grinned at being caught. “Manifest.”

Diego nodded, seeming pleased, as he looked Wylie over from head to foot. Wylie felt the heat of that careful perusal and told his cock, yet again, to calm the fuck down.

“Dinner starts in about an hour if you want to shower first.” Diego said.