The regret of not confronting her ex when he’d pulled that stunt still haunted me, and I ran faster, at a punishing speed. Chewy barked happily and kept my pace.
I hadn’t done anything because I was scared by what had happened with Mrs. McKinney. I thought it would be best if the police handled things. But to this day, I couldn’t help thinking that Erika might not have ended up with a tube down her throat gasping for air if I had done something.
My last relationship was my longest, but still ended in heartbreak and a horrible accident. I met Kenna Porter when I was twenty. She came from a wealthy family. Old money. A dynasty, really. We dated for two years. Her parents never approved of our relationship because I didn’t come from money. My parents didn’t have enough zeros in their bank account.
After graduation, her parents gave her an ultimatum. Either give me up or give up her monthly allowance. She wanted to have her cake and me too, so she asked if we could keep our relationship secret. I was okay with it at first, because I loved her and would do anything for her. But when she started “dating” guys that her parents set her up with, I told her I couldn’t do it anymore. She’d cried and said that she loved me and if I loved her I wouldn’t give up on us. She begged me not to leave her, but I just couldn’t be a dirty secret.
She’d run out of my apartment sobbing and inconsolable. I tried to stop her and offered to drive her, but she refused, even kicking me in the groin when I tried to take her keys. She got in her car and peeled out. Three blocks from my apartment she ran a red light and got sideswiped by a big rig. She’d spent two weeks in the hospital and had to have reconstructive surgery. She also blamed me for her accident.
So after three massive strikeouts, I’d benched myself. The people I loved got badly hurt, even if I wasn’t the direct cause. I knew that I couldn’t go through that again, feeling helpless and guilty for the suffering that I couldn’t save the women I loved from.
Which was why it was good that Delilah had accepted Coop’s offer to go to the bar. When I’d heard her say sure, it had felt like my heart was just hit with a sledgehammer. But I knew that was nothing compared to what I would feel if I ever hurt her, if she ever suffered because of her involvement with me. And with my track record, that wasn’t something I could risk.
As I came to the end of the riverside path, I slowed my pace to start my cool down. Chewy jumped into the river to cool off like he always did on our runs. When he got out, he shook and water flew everywhere. Usually I made sure I wasn’t in the splash zone, but I was so distracted I didn’t get out of the way in time.
“Stop!” I instructed in vain as I lifted my arms, shielding my face from the spray of river water.
He barked happily, not the least bit concerned about my command. I had to admit that as bad as I must smell now between the wet dog and sweat, it was actually pretty refreshing.
I wiped off my arms as we cut through the back of my property. Once we passed the fence, Chewy took off. He knew that when we were home, he didn’t have to stay beside me.
My dad’s truck was parked beside mine in the driveway, and I saw him coming out of the side door off the kitchen when I was still a few yards away. He looked like he was leaving. Maybe I’d taken longer than he wanted to wait.
“Dad!” I called out.
He looked over his shoulder and seemed surprised to see me. “Oh, hey there’s my firstborn! Your mama had me drop off some dinner for ya. I left it on the table.”
When I got closer to him, I saw that he looked…different. His coloring was a little gray there were bags under his eyes. My dad had worked every day of his life without complaint. He raised nine kids. I’d seen him worn out. Exhausted, even. But this was different.
“You feeling alright?” I asked as I stopped in front of him. Chewy had beat me to him and was happily seated in front of him getting head pets. “You look…tired.”
“I’m doin’ just fine.” My dad puffed out his chest as he stood taller, straightening his shoulders. He looked me up and down. “You’re not lookin’ so hot yourself there, son.”
Walker Briggs was a proud man. He didn’t like people “fussin’” over him. I wanted to ask him to come in and sit for a minute, but I knew that I couldn’t just come out and say that. “You wanna a beer?”
“Nah, I gotta head out.” He put his hat back on before climbing into his truck. “You better get inside, now. Before it gets cold.”
Gets cold? Since when did my mom make me anything that I didn’t put in the freezer to have later? And since when did my dad turn down a beer? I was wondering why he was acting so oddly when Chewy started crying and scratching the back door.
I didn’t know if he smelled my mom’s cooking or if she’d had my dad drop off a special non-rawhide treat for him that he was tracking. I opened the door, and his nails clicked on the kitchen tile as he ran straight to the dining room. As soon as I stepped in, I knew why he was so excited. The very distinct scent of my mom’s famous fried chicken was wafting through the air.
Now, I was really confused. As I followed Chewy, I thought that my dad dropping off this particular dinner was even stranger than the way he was acting. My mom made that chicken once a year for my dad’s birthday and the only other occasion I knew of was when she was playing matchmaker…
When I turned the corner, the mystery was solved.
Sitting at my dining room table, petting Chewy, was the person that the dinner that was laid out on the table was really for.
Delilah Turner.
Now, everything made sense. My dad’s call to find out how long I’d be. His leaving so abruptly. Dolly Briggs famous fried chicken.
The girl that had my world spinning off its axis stood and lifted her hand in a small wave. “Hi.”
My mouth went dry, and it had nothing to do with the fact that I’d just ran five miles. Delilah’s long blonde hair was falling in loose waves, framing her face. She was wearing a baby blue sundress that had thin straps that I wanted to slide off her smooth shoulders. And she was smiling, the smile that somehow simultaneously started and stopped my heart.
“Why aren’t you at the bar with Cooper?” I knew that my tone was harsh, and I sounded like an asshole, but seeing Delilah here, in my house, hit me way too close to home.
Chapter 16
Delilah
“Always listen to your heart, not your fear.”
~ Grant Turner
I tried to think over the pounding of my heart. Sawyer had obviously just come back from a run and looked shocked to find me in his house. He didn’t look happy about the surprise either. He did look sexy, though. The damp material of his shirt molded to his body, advertising every carved dip, sculpted bulge, and chiseled line.
The chicken on the table wasn’t the only thing that looked finger lickin’ good.
Focus. I chided myself.
“When I was getting ready Coop called and said that there was a change of plans, your mom was making dinner and invited me to come over to your house. I was confused because you said you had plans, but he told me you were talking about this dinner. When I got here your dad let me in, he said he forgot something in the truck. I’m sure he’ll be right back.”
“He left,” Sawyer stated flatly.
“Are you sure?” My brow wrinkled. “He said he would be right ba—”
He cut me off. “He’s not coming back.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure I understood what was going on. I’d expected to walk into a Briggs family dinner. That was obviously not what this was. But there was food. “But… the dinner?”
“Is for us.”
My eyes flew up to his. “Just us?”
Sawyer’s chin dipped.
“This was a setup?” I puzzled out loud. “And Coop was in on it?”
He nodded again.
“And you had no idea about any of it?”
Again, his head dipped in confirmation.
Oh boy.
If I’d been in this situation a year ago, th
ere would’ve been no question about what I would’ve done. I would’ve apologized and left. That was the socially acceptable, polite thing to do. But, I’d been polite and done the socially acceptable thing for twenty-five years, and it had gotten me nowhere.
Bold. Brazen. Blunt.
I needed to ask for what I wanted. I just wasn’t sure how to invite myself for a dinner that the host didn’t know was happening. My older sisters lived by the philosophy that it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. I figured I would take a page out of their book.
Still, thinking about doing it and actually doing it were two very different things, and I found myself having a difficult time executing my new attitude towards taking action vs. asking permission.
So, I went back to my self-help tricks, counted back from five and opened my mouth. “Well, the food looks and smells delicious. Shall we eat?”
Sawyer’s mouth tightened into a flat line, and I felt a little guilty pushing ahead with a dinner that he’d been ambushed with. But, I had to remind myself that he was a big boy, and not just physically. If he didn’t want me to stay for dinner, he could say so. I braced myself for him to do just that.
“I smell like a wet dog.”
Okay, that wasn’t what I was expecting him to say.
“So do I.” I lifted my hands. Chewy was damp when he’d run in and greeted me.
His jaw ticked and his shoulders tensed. “I need to take a shower.”
Is that an invitation?
That was the question I wanted to ask, but I wasn’t quite at that level of bold, brazen, and blunt. Yet, anyway.
Instead, I smiled brightly and said, “I’ll go wash up and meet you back here.”
Without waiting for his response, I rushed to the bathroom below the stairs that I’d passed on my way into the dining room. This was the first time I’d been in Sawyer’s house and I’d been trying to take everything in.
When I closed the door, I saw my reflection in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me. She looked…sexy.
I’d blown out my hair. I’d figured just because I was depressed and sad on the inside, I didn’t need to publicize it. When the plans changed, so did I. Instead of the jeans and boots that I’d planned on wearing to the bar, I’d grabbed a sundress and also applied a little extra eye shadow, mascara, and lip stain. The blush on my cheeks was natural and not store-bought. It had most likely appeared when Sawyer had mentioned the word shower. Thinking of him so near to me, naked, with water dripping down his body, was blush-inducing to say the least.
My shoulders shimmied as I attempted to shake off all thoughts of a dripping wet, nude Sawyer Briggs. I made quick work of washing my hands. I felt like Cinderella, except my ball was a weekend of renovations. And my unlikely fairy godmothers were Coop and Mr. and Mrs. Briggs. But at midnight, everything would go back to the way it was. The magic would be gone. The carriage would turn back into a pumpkin, and my dress would turn back into my Flower Pot apron. I needed to make as much of my time with the Prince as I possibly could. I didn’t want to waste a second in the washroom.
When I returned to the table, I found Sawyer seated and wearing the same clothes he’d been in.
“You didn’t want to take a shower?” I asked.
“No.” He started filling his plate, and I saw that there was now a glass of tea that had been set on the table for me.
I wanted to ask why he didn’t take a shower, but I figured I had more pressing questions, like the ones I needed to ask to finish the damn intimacy experiment. I had eight more to go and knew that it was a now or never situation.
After smoothing my hands down my waist and hips, I lowered into my seat and followed Sawyer’s lead, filling my plate.
I knew time was of the essence but I was sidetracked momentarily when I took my first bite of Dolly Briggs’ famous fried chicken. I’d heard stories about how amazing it was, but I’d never actually tasted it before. Rumor was she only made it once a year for Mr. Briggs’ birthday. I closed my eyes as my teeth sank into the crispy outer layer and then hit the juicy meat. Flavors exploded in my mouth, and a moan vibrated from the back of my throat.
“Oh my…” I exhaled after swallowing the first bite. “I’ve never tasted anything so perfect.”
My tongue slid between my lips, savoring every ounce of seasoning as I opened my eyes and saw that Sawyer’s gaze was focused on my mouth. My lips tingled under his attention causing me to lick them again. I hadn’t meant it to be a sexual gesture either time, I’d done it out of instinct, but from the heat in Sawyer’s stare that’s exactly how he’d interpreted it.
Finally. I’d been doing everything in my power today to inspire that kind of look again but had been unable to do it since we’d stood at my door last night. Cooper had been like a wet blanket that smothered the embers of desire that I had been planning on fanning the heck out of today.
Seeing his reaction, I figured now was a good time to try and wrap up the Q and A portion of the evening. “When is the last time you cried in front of someone?”
He blinked twice before slowly lifting his eyes to meet mine. He didn’t answer right away, but I was starting to fall into the rhythm of his communication patterns, so I waited.
I wasn’t even nervous anymore at his pregnant silences. They were actually liberating. When I was with Sawyer, I never felt any pressure to fill in awkward moments with idle chatter. The things that I said to him had a purpose and vice versa. It felt more honest, just like drawing out my own home renovation sketches instead of using a computer program.
“I was sixteen.”
“Wow.” My eyes widened “That was…twenty years ago. I cried in front of the pizza delivery boy last night because he showed up in the middle of Grey’s Anatomy.”
He grinned, and like every time I got him to crack a smile, I felt like I had done something worthy of a Nobel Prize…or at least an honorable mention. We continued eating, and I asked him several more questions, all of which he answered.
There had been a few that I’d been avoiding asking. It wasn’t because I was saving the best for last or anything. It was because I was scared of what his responses were going to be.
After inhaling deeply through my nose, I looked him right in the eyes. “What roles do love and affection have in your life?”
I expected there to be a relatively significant commercial break before he answered and we returned to regular broadcasting, but there wasn’t.
“None.” His response was instant, and there was conviction in his tone.
“Oh. Okay.” It threw me off, but since I still had one more question to ask, I got right back up on the interrogation horse. This next inquiry wasn’t part of the thirty-six that had been developed by a team of psychologists. It was just something I wanted to know. “Have you ever thought about me…about us…being together?”
Once the question was out in the air, it hung there between us. Sawyer didn’t answer. He just stared at me.
I’d promised myself that I would wait for him to say something, but I couldn’t. I needed to tell him how I felt. Using all of the courage I had, I answered my own question. “I have. I think about being with you all the time. I think about you all the time.”
His breathing grew labored but he remained silent. Then suddenly, he stood. “I need to go take a shower. You can show yourself out.”
He started to walk away, and good manners would dictate that I left well enough alone, but this wasn’t afternoon tea at a country club. My happiness was on the line, and I was going to do everything I could to fight for it, etiquette be damned.
I stood as well. “So you’ve never thought about me like that? You’ve never thought about kissing me? You’ve never thought about being with me?”
He stopped midstride. I could see the muscles in his back bunch. In slow motion he turned, and the look in his eyes caused my heart to shoot up into my throat. It was part savage and part sweet. There was tenderness and raw passio
n in it.
“Yes. I do.” He rasped. “I can’t stop thinking about that, about you. And I think about doing a lot more than kissing you. But it can’t happen. And that’s why you need to leave. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave. Now.”
With that unexpected confession, he turned and took the steps two at a time. My heart was no longer in my throat. It had traveled south and was pulsing in my core.
Did he really expect me just to leave his house? After he told me that he thought about doing a lot more than kissing me?
Um…Yeah. No way was I walking out that door.
Bold. Brazen. Blunt.
Chapter 17
Sawyer
“The man who straddles the fence has a sore crotch.”
~ Grant Turner
I did what I had to do.
If she stayed, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.
It’s for the best.
I kept repeating those words to myself as if saying it over and over again would somehow magically make it true.
I did what I had to do.
Telling her to go and ending this whole thing before it even started was the right move.
It’s for the best.
As I dipped my head beneath the hot water, I tried to focus on that truth. But traitorous thoughts kept popping up, saying things like, you should’ve never let her go.
Maybe things would be different with her.
She is a once in a lifetime girl.
I smothered those thoughts. Going down that road would lead to tragedy. I learned that lesson the hard way. If the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, then I wasn’t about to risk being crazy with her.
All of this was for the best.
I heard the familiar click of Chewy’s paws on the tile and figured he was coming to tell me that his new best friend had left. I was sure he was bummed, and he wasn’t the only one.
“I know buddy,” I commiserated as I pushed the shower curtain aside, ready to tell him that he wasn’t the only one that was disappointed.
Seducing Sawyer (Wishing Well, Texas Book 7) Page 11