Discovering Delilah Page 11

  “Dee, take the picture,” Wyatt snaps.

  “Sorry.” Oh my God, I’m turning into a sex addict. I take the picture and hand him the camera, desperately needing to put some room between me and Ashley. I feel like the room is closing in on me. I wonder how my parents had the power to manipulate my thinking. Once I accepted that they had died, I really thought I’d just be able to move on and be myself. Part of me was, shamefully, relieved to have the freedom to finally act on my feelings. But there’s nothing easy about any of this. Guilt sinks into me with every dirty thought, with every clean thought, too. Just wanting to hold Ashley’s hand in public makes me remember my parents’ disturbed look from graduation day.

  Right here, right now, I vow that if I ever have kids, I will never, ever make them feel bad about who they are.

  Never.

  That’s flippin’ great for my future children, but not for me. I still feel the need to put space between me and Ashley. I look around the room. Livi and Rusty are both swamped with customers, which gives me the perfect escape.

  “Drinks. We need drinks. I’ll go order them from Tristan. What do you guys want?”

  Wyatt stands. “I’ll get them. Relax. You just got here.”

  I stand anyway. “We’ll both go. You can’t carry four drinks.”

  “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Ashley says with a smirk that tells me she knows exactly what effect she’s having on me, and she’s enjoying it way too much.

  “Something fruity,” Cassidy answers.

  “You’ve got it, babe.” Wyatt leans down and kisses her.

  I long to kiss Ash, and I can tell the way she’s watching them that she’s wishing I would, too.

  I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder before I hear Jesse’s voice. “Delly. Wow. You look hot.”

  I turn, and he embraces me. I hate that my first thought is wondering whether he saw Ashley’s hand on my thigh.

  “Hi, Jesse. Thank you.” I fidget with the edge of my dress as he looks over my shoulder at Ashley.

  “Ash. How’s it going?”

  “Really, really good, Jesse.” Her voice slides over my skin like liquid heat.

  I need to get out of here before I climb into that booth and make out with my girlfriend.

  Whoa. My girlfriend.

  The fictitious spotlight is beaming at me again. I half expect someone to point at me and yell, Lesbian! She’s a lesbian!

  Holy shit. I’m a loser, and totally fucked-up.

  “I’m going up to get drinks. Want one?” I ask as fast as I can.

  Jesse shakes his head. “I’m heading down to Brooke’s to help her out with moving some boxes. I just came by to tell you that Tim’s getting out of rehab soon. He did really well, and I thought you’d want to know.” Uncle Tim…My eyes shoot to Wyatt, who looks away for a beat. I don’t think Jesse knows that Wyatt’s visited Tim a few times since he went into rehab. I know by the clenching of Wyatt’s jaw what he’s thinking. He’s trying to figure out how to protect us from getting tied up in Tim’s mess again without pushing away my father’s best friend completely. Wyatt’s got a big heart and he’s smart. I know he’ll figure out the right thing to do, and I trust his judgment. It’s not like we were personally tied up in Tim’s gambling. He stole money from the Taproom, but now that we own the bar, it no longer feels like he stole from our parents. It feels like he stole from us. It’s definitely more personal.

  Wyatt nods. “I know. I’ve been in touch with him.”

  “You’re a good man, Wyatt.” Jesse puts his arm around Wyatt and lowers his voice. “But don’t be stupid. Don’t hire him back.”

  “No chance of that.”

  I steal a glance at Ash. She runs her tongue across her lower lip, and in that moment I wish I wasn’t embarrassed, because I’d slide right in beside her and claim that taunting mouth of hers with a kiss so passionate Wyatt would tell us to get a room. Since that’s not about to happen, I decide to give her a little torture of my own. My tie-dyed tank dress is loose and flowing. I lean down close, knowing she can see right down the neckline. Her eyes widen and fill with lust when she notices that I’m not wearing a bra.

  I put my mouth beside her ear and whisper, “Paybacks are hell.”

  “You guys are too cute together,” Cassidy says. “You look like you want to claw each other’s clothes off, and it’s really hot.”

  Holy shit. I bolt upright. “I…No…Really?” I hightail it up to the bar to get the drinks, but not before noticing that Ash has a big, cheesy grin on her face and there’s a curious look on Jesse’s.

  “Hey, hon. What’ll it be?”

  Tristan leans on the bar, waiting for me to answer him, but my mind is stuck on You guys look like you want to claw each other’s clothes off…That’s exactly how I feel, which means I’m transparent as hell, and that rattles me to my core.

  I look up at Tristan, and my mind goes completely blank. I can’t remember what drinks anyone wanted, and Wyatt is still talking with Jesse.

  “Um…whatever Cassidy and Ash usually order, I guess. And I need a blue margarita please. Superstrong.”

  Tristan raises his brows. “Uh-oh. One of those nights? I was hoping this double date would ease your discomfort with the whole…you know what.”

  I climb onto a barstool and lower my voice. “Yeah, well, it turns out that now that I’ve kissed her, apparently I can’t be around her without wanting to kiss her again. And again. And again.”

  Tristan laughs.

  I try to focus on the song the band is playing, but my eyes keep drifting toward the booth.

  Tristan taps my shoulder. “Baby steps, remember? This is a good thing.”

  “No. It’s not. Because doing those things here will only make me feel guilty as hell, and then I get all teary-eyed and weird.” I watch him mix our drinks, and when he brings them to me, I down the margarita and get a wicked brain freeze. I close my eyes and wince.

  “Shit, shit, shit.”

  “Slow down, girlie.” Tristan shakes his head.

  When the pain eases, I push the glass across the bar to him.

  “Better?” he asks.

  “A little.” At least now I can hear the music instead of just the battle between want, need, and embarrassment that’s warring in my head.

  Tristan takes the glass and makes another. “You’re finally the one making the rules, Delilah.”

  I feel Wyatt’s hand land on my shoulder. He leans in close. “You and your girlfriend are getting eyed by every guy in here.”

  I drop my head between my shoulders. “Great.”

  “It’s a compliment, Dee. You guys look hot.”

  “Together? Because Cassidy said we look like we want to rip each other’s clothes off.” I meet Wyatt’s gaze, and he’s got a serious look in his eyes.

  “No. Not like that at all. Jesus, Cass said that?” He glances over his shoulder at the table. “I don’t know what she sees, but from my perspective, you’re just two hot girls out having a drink. Don’t sweat it, and don’t worry—I’m giving the evil eye to the gawkers.”

  I roll my eyes. He always watches out for me. I wish I could say it’s gotten worse since our parents died, but it hasn’t. This is who Wyatt has always been. He’s almost two full minutes older than me, and he thinks that gives him the title of supreme protector. He’ll probably always be overly protective, and in some ways it’s the best feeling in the world knowing he’ll always stand up for me, but I know it also makes it way too easy for me to let him do it.

  We return to the table with the drinks and fall into a conversation about music, bands, and movies. Ashley’s had her hand on my thigh under the table the whole time we’ve been talking, and while it stole my ability to concentrate at first, now it feels familiar and nice. I slip my hand beneath the table and lace my fingers with hers. My eyes dart to the dance floor and the people at the nearby tables, but no one seems to notice, and I’m relieved.

  “I almost forgot. This weekend my little
brother is going to be in his first lead role in a play.” Ashley squeezes my hand. “I’d love it if you’d come home with me and meet my family, go see his play.”

  “Meet your family?” Butterflies flutter in my stomach again.

  “Yeah, you’ll love them.”

  “Meet your family.”

  Wyatt nudges my toe under the table as if to signal that I’m being an idiot, which I am. If we had never kissed, I wouldn’t think twice about accepting the invitation. Now it carries the fear of wondering if her parents will act like mine would if I had brought a girlfriend home.

  I want this to work. I want to be with Ashley. I have to try.

  “Sure, okay. If you’re sure your family won’t mind.”

  Ashley squeezes my hand again. “They won’t. I can’t wait for you to meet them.”

  “I didn’t even know you had a little brother.” Cassidy’s sitting beneath my brother’s arm, pressed up against his side.

  “I do. Kenny’s seven. He wasn’t exactly planned.” Ashley sips her drink and shifts her eyes to me. “Dee, want to dance?”

  We’ve danced together a million times, but never as a couple. I push past the nervous feeling in my stomach.

  We’re just two friends dancing. I can do this. Baby steps.

  I unlace our fingers and move out of the booth and toward the crowded dance floor. I try not to think about how much I want to touch her, or kiss her, and I dance as we always have—only this time it feels like we’re in a zone all our own as our hips move in tandem and our bodies move with a different type of familiarity. The kind of familiar, seductive movements that occur only between two people who have experienced moments of intense passion.

  Ashley holds my gaze as her hand brushes mine, and she steps in closer, stealing all the air from the room. She’s so sexy I swear it takes all my focus not to touch her. The music slows and she moves her shoulders and hips as she slithers her body down mine, our thighs skimming, like a scene straight out of Dirty Dancing. Her eyes are still locked on mine as she dances her way back up. Need rushes through me, and my body stills. I’m trying to move. Anything. My hips, my arms, my shoulders, but I’m a statue. My entire body’s aflame. I feel as if I’m in a spotlight again and scan the other people, all dancing without giving us a second glance, and I realize it’s the heat of her gaze that makes me feel like I’m the only one in the room.

  I can’t stand it one more second. I can’t resist her. I don’t know how I find the courage to reach for her hand and drag her toward the ladies’ room. I need to touch her, to kiss her, to let her feel what’s going on inside me. I push into the tight bathroom and seal my lips over hers, kissing her like this second, this kiss, is all we have. It’s sloppy and wet and deep and hot and I never want it to end. I know she needs air, and I give her mine. She grabs my face and pries our lips apart, eyes wide as she searches my face.

  “You held my hand.”

  I can’t respond. I want her lips on mine again.

  Ashley, Ashley, Ashley.

  “Delilah, you held my hand on the way to the bathroom.”

  I nod, or maybe I don’t. I can’t tell, because she’s repeating herself, so it makes me wonder if I moved at all.

  She kisses me slowly and tenderly, and I melt against her. Then she touches my cheek with her hand and whispers, “Thank you.”

  Chapter Ten

  ~Ashley~

  WAKING UP WRAPPED around Delilah is so much better than I’d ever dreamed. All those nights we’d spent sleeping in the same room after parties had given me plenty of time to conjure up what it would be like to actually sleep with her body against mine. But nothing compares to this, or to falling asleep with her in my arms, knowing she’s mine. I was overwhelmed when she took my hand last night in the bar. I know it was a huge step for her, even though we could have easily looked like two friends simply going to the ladies’ room together. It’s a common enough occurrence that it wouldn’t raise any eyebrows, but Delilah has been so sensitive to how others see us that for her it was a major deal. And I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t for me, too.

  We spent the night at her place as we’d planned, and this morning, as much as I wanted to join her in the shower, I didn’t. I’m so grateful she’s taking these steps, no matter how big or small. I didn’t want to add any pressure. I think we were both testing boundaries last night. She looked sexier than hell—not that she doesn’t always, but last night? In that dress? I think she was testing her own boundaries, while I was testing ours as a couple.

  I’ve decided to let her lead. No more pushing her limits. I know she’s trying to figure out how to live a lifestyle she’s had to pretend she didn’t want, and I want to be there for her and help her through the hard times and the good times. I have faith in Delilah, and when we kiss—Lordy, Lordy, when we kiss—I can feel that she’s falling for me just like I’m falling for her.

  I watch her walking through the kitchen from my seat on the deck, where I’m having coffee with Tristan. My stomach gets all fluttery. My stomach never gets fluttery. At least it never used to. Delilah’s watching me, too, and she’s smiling as she comes through the door. She touches my shoulder as she sits beside me. Even that small gesture, touching me in a way that speaks volumes about how she feels about me, is a big deal. I reach up and cover her hand with mine.

  “Hey,” she says in a shy voice.

  Reading Delilah can be confusing. Her touch and the shy voice conflict, but I’m trying not to question the conflicting messages, because if I find them confusing, chances are that Delilah finds them even more so.

  “Good morning.” I eye her shorts and billowing top. I know she has no idea how sexy she looks. Her hair falls over her shoulders, and the scent of her lilac shampoo fills my lungs. “I love your outfit.”

  “You do?”

  She looks down and touches the edges of her lacy white boho chic top. It’s one of those shirts with spaghetti straps, cut-out shoulders, and three-quarter sleeves that fall halfway down her arms. She’s wearing my favorite pair of her cutoffs, the dark blue ones with thick fringe at the bottom, and several colorful bangles circle her wrist. She looks amazing.

  I peer down at her feet, secretly hoping to see her boots, and sure enough, she’s wearing them unlaced with frilly white socks. So freaking cute I can’t help but break my own rule about letting her lead and kiss her cheek.

  “You look amazing.”

  “God, why can’t I find a guy like you?” Tristan leans back with a sigh.

  Delilah’s cheeks pink up, and I move away, giving her space. She reaches over and laces her fingers with mine. My heart skips a beat, and I swear it takes all my strength not to jump up and down and scream, Yay! She’s mine! She’s mine! I clear my throat to suppress the cheesy smile that’s fighting to part my lips and hope the one I allow is not enough to make her retreat.

  I don’t mind walking on eggshells for a little while.

  “You will, Tristan,” Delilah assures him.

  “Not anytime soon. I’m giving up on guys for a while.”

  Tristan’s comment draws her attention. “Giving up on guys? Why?”

  Tristan flicks an invisible piece of lint from his white tank top and looks out over the water. “After Ian I don’t really trust my instincts. I think I need to take a step back.”

  “You need to play the field and not care,” Brandon says as he comes out from the kitchen and stands beside Tristan. He does a pelvic thrust and raises his brows in quick succession. “You know what I say about getting over a guy.”

  Tristan shakes his head. “I have no desire to get over or under another guy right now, thank you very much. Get your package out of my face.”

  Brandon sinks into the chair beside Tristan and eyes mine and Delilah’s linked hands. “Tristan, you should have been a lesbian.”

  Tristan closes his eyes for a beat and shakes his head. “Do I even want to ask?”

  “Seriously, dude.” He nods at me and Delilah. “Chicks make
out and suddenly they’re in love and moving in together. We’re not like that. Guys are about sex. Girls are about relationships.”

  Uh-oh. This is one of those eggshell moments. He’s right. Women tend to move much faster toward relationships than men. I watch Delilah for signs of discomfort at his reference of moving in together. She’s playing with the fringe on her shorts.

  “No shit, but I like dick, not vag.” Tristan slides an apologetic look to us. “Sorry. I have to speak his language or else he’ll ramble on and on for an hour.”

  Delilah shifts uncomfortably in her chair. She leans in closer to me and whispers, “He’s right. Brandon will keep pushing him.”

  There’s nothing Brandon can say that shocks me anymore. Beneath his brash exterior is a big, loving heart. I still remember the day he set those almond-shaped dark eyes on me after I broke up with Sandy. He saw I was hurting and said, Not everyone is a prick. Come back with me to Harborside. You’ll love my friends. I don’t know if Brandon saw something in me that would click with Delilah, or if he meant his friends in general, but he was right. I needed this group of warm and wonderful friends, and Delilah? Well, I can’t imagine my life without her.

  Brandon shrugs. “Whatever, dude. It is what it is.”

  “There are monogamous guys out there. Brandon just doesn’t look for them.” I smirk at Brandon, and he smirks right back.

  “I’m not giving up for good—just taking a hiatus. No hookups. No searching for Mr. Right.” Tristan’s eyes warm as they glide over me and Delilah. “But I’m happy that you two found each other.”

  Delilah blushes again and drops her eyes, but her smile tells me that she is, too.

  Chapter Eleven

  ~Delilah~

  ASHLEY AND I spent Tuesday night at her place. This time I actually made it through most of the evening without tearing her clothes off. It wasn’t easy, but I love spending time with her and I don’t want her to think that I only like her for sex.

  Boy, is that a weird thought.