Glancing up at the top window on the left side, I instantly remember being that twelve-year-old kid with an obsession with football and dreams bigger than his britches.
In a weird sort of way, I’m proud of him.
He never gave up, not even when things got too hard.
Turning to Delilah, I give her a bittersweet smile. I can’t stay here much longer.
“Let’s go back to the hotel.” I point to the car and she nods, heels clicking on the broken, weed-filled sidewalk.
The ride back is mostly quiet, each of us lost in our thoughts I suppose, but every time we pass a streetlight and it shines in, her beautiful face is illuminated, and some kind of peaceful feeling washes over me.
It’s strange and exciting in ways I never could have anticipated with her.
And above all else, it’s scary as hell.
I’m not afraid of much in this life, not after what I’ve gone through, but falling for someone like Delilah is downright terrifying . . .
And I feel it happening in real time.
Sometimes it’s slow.
Sometimes it’s all at once.
Sometimes I can’t get her out of my head, and I replay our moments together on some kind of slow-motion instant replay.
Scratch that. Most of the time I can’t get her out of my head.
But it wasn’t supposed to be like that because in a little over a month, she’ll be gone and life will go on. Today she’s my friend. Tonight she’s my lover. And tomorrow . . .
I can’t think about it. I can’t think beyond right here and right now.
Reaching across the car, I take her hand in mine.
God, it feels good to be close to someone again.
She moves closer, resting her head on my shoulder, and she yawns. Tonight won’t be about sex, and for the first time in a long time, I’m perfectly fine with that.
For some insane reason, I just want to be next to her.
Chapter 27
Delilah
This morning I woke up to Zane’s tongue between my thighs and a covered plate from room service on the bedside table next to me. After that, we did some light shopping and headed to the airport for an early afternoon flight home.
Now I’m back in Laguna Palms, sitting at Aunt Rue’s kitchen table as she grills me about my weekend away.
“That boy is so sweet on you.” She says it like it’s a bad thing.
“We’re just friends, Aunt Rue.”
“Who just sweeps a young lady across the country and treats her to a fancy weekend in Chicago?”
“I think he’s lonely.” I wrap my hands around the mug of cappuccino before me, feeling the weight of Aunt Rue’s discerning stare. “He’s been through a lot.”
She scoffs, crossing and re-crossing her legs. “Still no excuse to act like a damn fool.”
“It’s easy to judge him,” I say, glancing across the table at her. “He’s a good person. He means well. His delivery might need a bit of work, but he’s making progress. I mean, he’s a completely different person than the one I met last month. I couldn’t even be around him without seeing red, and now I look forward to seeing him.”
“Oh, Jesus, Delilah. Don’t tell me you’re in love.”
I laugh. “Not in love. Just enjoying each other’s company. As friends.”
She gives me a squinty side-eye and rises to refill her coffee. “I don’t know, Delilah. I still think he’s a heartbreaker. Just wait until that shine wears off.”
“Thanks.” My lips purse flat.
“I don’t mean it in a personal way. Every relationship has a shiny period where you look past each other’s misgivings and can’t get enough of each other.”
“Fortunately Zane and I are not in a relationship, so . . .”
“You kids and your complicated social dynamics. I’ll never understand it.” She takes her seat, swatting her hand at me. “Either you’re together or you’re not. There should be no in between.”
“It’s just a summer fling.” I take a sip, looping my thumb through the mug handle. “No strings. We’re just having fun. If either of us gets hurt, it’ll be our own fault for getting attached.”
“Are you attached, Delilah?” She peers down the bridge of her nose.
“No. Of course not.”
“Could you walk out of here tomorrow, never see that boy again, and life would go on without a hitch?”
I stare off to the side, trying to imagine what that might feel like, and I find myself struggling to breathe.
“There’s your answer.” Rue slaps the table.
“I feel like you’re mad at me, Aunt Rue . . .”
“I’m not mad. I just love you so much, sweetie, I don’t want to see you get hurt. When I look at you, I see my little string bean with braces and glasses and curly hair that sticks out at the sides.” She wears a warm, melancholy smile. “I want you to stay young and innocent forever. I know. That’s selfish of me.”
“He’s a good guy, Aunt Rue. Maybe he wasn’t always. But he is now. You have to trust my judgment.”
She leans forward, resting her head on her hand, brows lifted. “I suppose you have a point.”
“Whatever he did in his past, whatever version of the truth you’re hanging onto,” I say, wishing so badly I could tell her what he told me. But I can’t. It would be a violation of our unspoken trust. “All I ask is that you let it go.”
“I’ll let it go as long as he doesn’t hurt my niece.” Rue clucks her tongue.
“Fair enough.”
“All right, well, I’m sure you’ve had a long day.” She pats the table and looks at the clock, which reads seven-thirty. “I’m going down for the night. See you in the morning, sweet pea.”
“Goodnight, Aunt Rue.”
Chapter 28
Zane
“Everybody here now?” Coach Roberts yells above the low drone of a bunch of meat-headed football players gathered in an enormous conference room at team headquarters Tuesday afternoon.
The seat beside me is empty, and I pull out my phone to send a quick text to Delilah. We’re supposed to start Game of Thrones tonight, and I need to remind her to pick up a pizza from the grocery store.
We’re like a couple in many ways.
But we’re not.
The best way to describe things lately is that we’re both comfortable. No one’s trying too hard. Egos are set to the side. We’re just hanging out. Fucking like rabbits. And making each other laugh.
In fact, I can’t even remember the last time we argued about anything bigger than pizza toppings or what show to watch on Netflix next.
Delilah’s a cool girl, and I’m going to miss the hell out of her when she’s gone.
A body fills the chair beside me followed by a gush of perfume. Whipping my head to the side, my blood runs cold when I see a smiling Carissa scooting closer.
“Hey there.” Her lips spread wide, and she has the audacity to place her hand on my forearm.
I glance up where her father sits a few spots down at the head of the table.
“What are you doing here?” I keep my voice down.
She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Just had lunch with my father. It ran late, so I decided to tag along so he’d be on time.”
How dutiful.
I turn away from her, toward Kai and Weston at my right, and I insert myself into their conversation.
Carissa’s finger jabs into my side. Releasing an inaudible groan, I turn back to face her.
“So, I was thinking,” she says. “The Kick Off party is in a few weeks. Do you want me to wear a red dress? Or white? White is more summery, but red is ridiculously sexy. I’ll wear whatever you want, babe.”
My teeth grit together. She’s taking this agreement to a whole new level already.
“Wear whatever you want,” I mutter, turning back to the guys.
She taps me again. “Red or white, Zane. Pick one. You need to be involved in the planning of our big date.”
My hard stare snaps toward her. “Big date?”
Carissa grins wider than a child going to Disney World. “I’m so excited. We’re going to have a blast. And I have something special planned for us afterwards, so-”
“Whoa. No, no, no.” I glance up to make sure her dad isn’t listening in. “I didn’t agree to anything after. We’re going to the party for a couple hours. Then this whole thing is done. You promised.”
“The party goes from eight to midnight,” she says. “We’ll be there the entire time. I think it’d be in poor taste for the star running back and the owner’s daughter to skip out early, don’t you think?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you afterwards,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Bad idea, Zane.”
“Excuse me?”
“This is my night. You promised me one date.”
“Yeah. The party is the date.”
She swats her hand across my shoulder. “The party is a professional obligation. The real date doesn’t start until the last guest leaves.”
Goddamn it.
“You guys ready to get started?” Coach Roberts’ Southern drawl booms throughout the room.
“My answer’s still no,” I whisper to Carissa.
Her eyes, squinting at the corner, light with determination, and she tips her head up just enough to silently inform me she won’t be backing down.
Dragging in a slow, heavy breath, my gaze lifts in time to see Carissa’s father staring at the two of us, his face perceptive and stern. In that instant, Carissa flashes him a happy smile and scoots closer to me, placing her hand on mine.
Jesus Christ.
He smiles at his daughter, then returns his stare to me, expression fading.
He’s looking at me like he wants to kill me.
Or like he’s looking for an excuse to cut me from the team.
And I know right then and there, one wrong move and I’m gone from the team.
Carissa’s really fucked me over this time.
I feel her watching me, beaming like I belong to her – like I’m some shiny new toy her daddy brought home from the store.
My fist is gripped tightly around a sharpened pencil. It snaps in half, and Kai Santana leans in and whispers, “What the fuck, man?”
Chapter 29
Delilah
“You’ve been busy this week.” I plunk my beach towel on one of the chairs in Zane’s backyard and simultaneously admire the rock hard eight-pack he has going on. It’s rare that I actually get to see it before the sun goes down, and out here it’s bronzed and glorious.
“Yeah. It’s getting to be about that time.” He flips his sunglasses up and shamelessly drinks me in from head to toe as I slide my shorts off and yank my tank top over my head. “Is that new?”
I pluck one of the strings of the neon peach bikini that covers my body. “You like?”
“I love.”
Taking the seat beside him, I swipe the bottle of suntan lotion he’s holding and slather myself in coconut-scented cream. I’m going to miss these lazy summer days. The smell of chlorine in my hair. The taste of Zane’s lips on mine. The feel of our skin, warm and melded together.
I let out a sigh, staring ahead at the way the breeze kisses the top of the water and sends a wave of ripples rolling across it.
“You going to swim today?” I ask.
“Yeah. I’ll do some laps.”
He’s awfully quiet. More so than usual. And when he slides his sunglasses over his eyes, it does very little to mask that contemplative look on his face.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask. I’m sure he has a lot on his mind. Since we got back from Chicago last week, I’ve only seen him twice. Between his meetings and personal training sessions and charity events and team socials, he’s been almost unreachable.
But he gave me today. Said he was all mine. So I’m taking it. Happily.
Zane groans, lifting his hands behind his neck just enough that his biceps flex, and for a second, I’m willing to forgo this relaxing poolside encounter for a quick romp inside. But I’m sure we’ll get to that later.
“I don’t know.” He stares ahead. “Just keep thinking about how you’re leaving next month. Just went by so fast. And I’m so busy.”
“Aw, so you are going to miss me.” I reach over and gently pinch his shoulder, getting nothing but steely muscles in my grasp.
He turns to me in a moment of rare Zane seriousness. “Of course I’m going to miss you, Delilah.”
Ever since my emotional, naked meltdown in his kitchen a few weeks ago, I’ve stayed completely mum on any talk of what we are, what this is, or how confused it makes me. We’ve focused on fun and fucking, just like we agreed.
But it hasn’t changed the way I feel about him.
I can’t fake the butterflies. I can’t deny the excitement I feel when I know I’m going to see him again. It’s like my entire being comes alive, and I’m weightless, and nothing else exists but him.
I don’t even know what to call it. It’s less than love. More than lust. Better than anything I’ve ever experienced before.
“Is that why you’re sulking?” I insert a teasing lightness in my tone. “Because you’re going to miss me when I’m gone?”
He shrugs, his mouth hardening. “Something like that.”
“Whatever happened to living in the moment?” I ask.
“Sometimes things happen,” he says. “And you have to think about the future because you don’t have a choice.”
I laugh, confused. “What happened?”
He shakes his head, swallows, and lets his arms fall to his sides. Exhaling, he turns back to me.
“Can we talk about something else?” he says. “Like how fucking sexy you look in that string bikini?”
Leaning back in my lounger, I shield my eyes and give him a wink and a smile.
I like us like this. Fun. Carefree. We’ve evolved from the people we once were, turning into even better versions of ourselves.
Fun-Policing his party last month was the best thing that could’ve happened to me.
“Get over here,” he says with a playful growl, reaching for me.
I climb into his lap, straddling him, and his hands slink up my sides. With his fingers slipping under my bikini top, I glance around.
“Come on, it’s broad daylight,” I say, placing my hands on his.
Without hesitation, he lifts me up and carries me inside. He’s always carrying me, this brute of a man, making me feel light as a feather and safe at the same time. I suppose he’s well equipped for it with all those muscles. I’m not complaining. It’s actually pretty hot.
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me for very long.” I cup my hands around his strong, square jaw and steal a kiss. A minute later, he lowers me onto his bed, his gaze intense and focused as he tugs my bottoms down my thighs with one slow drag. “For the record, I’m going to miss you, too, when I’m gone.”
Lowering himself over me, he dips down, pressing his lips into my neck and working his way up to my ear. My heart races and my body’s electric. Every time with him feels like the first, and I can never get enough.
With his hands on my hips, he rolls me to the side, lying down and pulling me on top of him.
“Show me.” His voice is low, animalistic, and his hands explore the heat between my thighs, massaging the head of his swollen cock against my pussy. “Show me how much you’re going to miss me.”
Chapter 30
Zane
I think I love her.
That or I’m losing my mind.
Maybe a little of both?
In the last three weeks, we’ve flown to Chicago and back, watched every available episode of Game of Thrones, took private cooking lessons with a Spanish chef to learn the art of the perfect Galician empanada, and challenged each other in dozens of Madden NFL games.
Delilah Rosewood truly is the quintessential girl next door – only better.
&nb
sp; “Hey, that superhero movie you wanted to see comes out in two weeks.” She’s hunched over an iPad, sitting at my kitchen island on this Sunday morning as I simultaneously slave over the waffle iron and flip the eggs over easy. “That’s my last weekend here. Did you want to go see it? Maybe we can drive a couple hours to some random small town movie theatre and slip in when the lights go down?”
“Do you even like superhero movies?”
“Not really. But this one looks good. I’ll see it if you want.” She glances up at me, nibbling on her fingernail and looking innocently adorable. “Unless you’d rather go with your friends.”
I point the spatula at her.
“Right. ‘Cause I’d love to share a bowl of popcorn with Kai.” Scrunching my face, I add, “Nah, gorgeous. I’d take you in a heartbeat.”
The sides of her mouth curl and she returns to her tablet as I glance at the calendar on the side of the fridge.
“Two weeks? Oh. Shit.” I plate the eggs before they burn and flip the waffle iron. That’s the weekend of the Kick Off party.
“What? What’s wrong?” she asks.
I shake my head, waving her off. “Nothing.”
“Did you burn something?”
“Nope.”
I haven’t told her about Carissa, and I don’t plan to. She wouldn’t understand. It would put a damper on these last two weeks we have together.
Besides, if it were the other way around, I’d be beside myself with jealousy just imagining her on another man’s arm on a Saturday night. Even if she said it didn’t mean anything. Even if she explained up, down, and sideways that she was coerced into going. It would still hurt just the same.
If I hurt Delilah, I’d never forgive myself.
“I can’t do a movie that Saturday,” I say, checking the calendar one more time. A handful of appointments and meetings are scribbled into Friday’s spot. “Maybe Sunday afternoon? I’ll plan something special. Maybe we’ll take a drive to the coast?”
The Complete Rixton Falls Series Page 61