Denison snapped his head down and frowned at the giant, shiny, silver RV bumping toward the trailer park. And hauling that highfalutin home on wheels was none other than Danielle’s green jeep.
“Shee-yit,” Denison drawled, sitting forward and draping his elbows on his knees. He needed about a dozen more beers to deal with whatever hell was headed his way.
“Is that…” Tagan squinted at the jeep. “Is that Danielle?”
“Badger’s back?” Bruiser crowed.
Kellen was staring over his mate’s shoulder at the approaching vehicle with a calculating look that said he was just going to be a casual observer and not get involved, but Skyler gave a tentative wave to the approaching vehicle from his lap. Out of all of them, she was probably the nicest.
Danielle waved back. She braked and turned off the car, then slid out in what had to be the tightest pair of jeans ever constructed. They clung to her curves in a way that made his belly tighten and his balls swell. Denison would’ve given his least favorite nut to peel those off her and see if she still liked shaving her lady parts like she used to. Damn, he regretted his decision not to jerk off in the shower.
Haydan whistled, so Denison whacked his knuckles into the guy’s stomach. Haydan oofed air, and his stupid catcall got stuck in his throat. Served him right.
“Hi, fellas,” Danielle called as she sauntered toward the fire.
“Hey, Badger,” Drew called out, waggling his blond eyebrows. “What are you doing way out in our neck of the woods?”
“Oh, geez, no one has called me Badger in so long. Drew, Kellen, Haydan, Bruiser, Tagan.” She greeted his friends with a smile. She waved to Brighton and introduced herself to Brooke and Skyler, and never once did that stunning grin fade from her face. Not until her eyes landed on Denison.
He swallowed the pain and stood. “Sit on down. You hungry?”
“I don’t want to take your food—”
“Nonsense,” Kellen said, canting his head at their visitor. “You’re Denison’s mate. Our food is yours.”
“Kellen,” Denison gritted out.
Skyler turned and cupped her mate’s cheeks, then shook her head and kissed him sweetly on the lips.
“I’m your mate?” Danielle looked partly baffled and entirely uncomfortable with that wordage.
“You remember Kellen,” Denison explained. “He don’t say things like other people do. I’ll get you a plate.”
God, he wished the whole damned crew hadn’t been around to witness his downward spiral after Danielle left. They’d all been big fans of hers, once upon a time. From the way Haydan was grinning like an idiot, as if he was enjoying the show, Denison suspected maybe they still thought she was all right. Fan-friggin-tastic.
****
Danielle was wearing her poker face as best as she could, but inside, she was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm. Memories of days at the lake with this wild batch of boys—now men—had her feeling like she was home in a place she’d never seen before. Four years ago, they’d lived all over and around Saratoga, only coming together when someone was throwing a keg party in an overgrown field, or for night-muddin’, or Friday nights at Sammy’s bar to watch Denison and Brighton play, or really any excuse for them to get together. Through the years, she had thought about the men around the fire who talked to her now like she’d never left. But she’d imagined they’d all moved on and made something of themselves. She most definitely didn’t envision them forming some kind of moonshiner commune in the middle of the wilderness. From where she stood, none of them had changed. Not one little bit.
And Denison… God, her heart lurched into her throat, constricting her windpipe until her chest hurt to draw breath. He was beautiful, if a manly woodsman could be called that. Hair damp like he’d just showered, threadbare black shirt holding onto his broad shoulders, and that sexy scruff he wore on his face now. She hadn’t ever been attracted to men with facial hair, but damn, could Denison wear it. He was all sex appeal and dove-colored smoldering eyes as he watched her warily. He sat the edge of his seat like he would bolt at any moment, and when he offered her his chair, she thought he’d do just that. Instead, he piled spaghetti and fixings on a plate and offered it to her at arm’s length, as if he were afraid she might try to touch him.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
The moment was so surreal she had to anchor herself in it so she wouldn’t think it was a dream come tomorrow. She clenched her hands until her nails pressed painfully against her palms to remind herself this was really happening. All of these familiar faces and personalities…and Denny. Shit. She blinked rapidly to stop the stupid burning sensation behind her eyes. She hadn’t thought of him as Denny in a long time. Anger had made her heart tuck away the term of endearment. She blamed the boys for calling her Badger again.