Chapter 11
Warner
“You could enter food-eating competitions.” I’m still in awe after watching Delaney devour that cheeseburger. I’ve never seen a woman eat a burger that fast. Must be the brother-stealing issue again. It’s unnerving and making me feel rushed. “Unless it’s fuel, food really should be enjoyed.”
She laughs, her gaze returning from outside the window to me sitting across from her at a dive bar around the corner from my office that always serves a good burger and cold beer.
“This is fuel. Other than the bagel early this morning, I’ve only had a cookie.
I was starving, and it was a really good burger.
” I’m not drinking while on meds, but she’s washing her food down with a lager.
When she sets the pint glass down on the table, she rubs her stomach.
“I wish I had stayed in the leggings, though. These jeans have no give. Ugh.”
“Where did you get the cookie?”
Despite the complaints about tight denim that I did notice look damn good on her, she picks up a wedge fry and taps her bottom lip with it. “A baker I know.”
I was never told where she went during the hours she was gone, and I didn’t feel it was my place to ask, especially after how we left things.
When she returned, she never seemed mad, though I had been brusque with her during the earlier conversation.
She came back and acted like it never happened.
So I’m curious where she went to pick up her suitcase and which bakery she got this cookie from.
I’d like any information I can get about her, since I’ve not been given much, and I’m not sure I can trust what I’ve been told. “I like cookies. What kind?”
“Double chocolate, but I took you more for a brownie man.”
“Why is that?”
She shrugs, glancing at a couple who passes by the window. “They’re soft. Doughy. Cakey. You know what I mean.” Dropping that bomb of an insult must have made her hungry because she’s suddenly super focused on her fries and shoving as many as she can in her mouth while laughing to herself.
Doughy? Soft? Fuck me, she’s brutal. I need to breathe through the anger, but every time I do, she lobs something else my way. “You should come with a trigger warning.”
“Oh yeah?” Why does she look genuinely intrigued by my comment? She chews her food and downs more beer like she’s at a kegger. “Why is that?”
“You have an innate sense for how to find my buttons and jab them repeatedly until you set me off.”
“This may be hard to believe, Warner, but I’m not trying to set you off. I’m trying to—”
“Another beer?” Our server has great timing.
I’m not amused. I wanted to hear her response. I reply, “No,” just as Delaney says, “Yes, please.”
The server’s eyes volley between us, and I can tell by the worry in her expression that she is silently begging one of us to put her out of her misery.
Delaney reaches across the table to rest her hand on mine.
Giving it a little squeeze, she angles her head toward the server and grins. “My husband says I can’t have another.”
She plays dirty.
“I didn’t say you can’t have one.”
The server replies, “You did say no.”
“I’m not her boss.” Fuck. Guess I’ll never be able to show my face around here again.
“Or CEO,” Delaney adds with a shrug and waggles her ring finger. “Just my dearly beloved.”
When my eyes lock on the diamond sparkling on her hand, she conveniently keeps her focus on the young server.
“She’ll take another,” I say. “I’ll take the check.
Thank you.” My gut twists, my world once again flipped like a pancake carelessly in the air.
I don’t say a word until we’re alone and Delaney’s eyes meet mine again. “That’s new.”
“Not really.” If I didn’t know her wicked ways, I would mistake it as a symbol of our love by how she admires it on her finger.
“What made you start wearing it again?”
“I only stopped two days ago.”
Okay, I’ll bite . . . Looking at my hand, I ask, “Do you know where my ring is?”
Annoyance conspires her eyes to narrow on my bare finger. When her glare hits me, she asks, “Where is your ring? Couldn’t wait to be the most eligible bachelor around town again?”
“Again, that would imply I was doing it prior. I’ve never participated in those rankings. As my wife, you’d know that.”
“I know you were asked. Should I pull up the evidence?”
“Why does this sound eerily like we’re picking up where we left off in an unfinished argument?”
The beer arrives. The girl’s sadness, or sympathy, or whatever she and Delaney are silently exchanging through a shared look of understanding, makes me want to get up and leave.
I take my wallet out of my pocket, and though it takes longer than I’d like to wrangle it open with the hand of my broken arm while my other pulls the bills out, I finally manage.
Placing three large bills down on the tray, I’ve lost inspiration to be out of the penthouse.
“Drink up, sweetheart. I’m not hanging around to fend off dirty looks from the staff. ”
“What’s wrong?” Delaney’s eyebrow is arched as she brings the glass to her lips.
Leaning in, I glance around to make sure no one is listening. “You made me sound like a controlling monster.”
“If you don’t want to be perceived as controlling, then you shouldn’t try to control everything in your life and mine.” I push back from the table. “Warner?” she calls as I walk away.
I don’t know where the day has gone, but evening has already begun to set in, with the sun being blocked by buildings when I push out through the exit. I look both ways before heading west.
“Warner? Wait.” The distance grows between her voice and my footsteps.
My pace stays as controlled as I apparently am. And steady but she probably considers that a bad trait, so I’ll keep that to myself. I stop at the corner because, call me paranoid, but I hesitate now before crossing the street. Being hit by a car will do that to a person.
“Warner? Come on.”
I wait with others for the signal to go, and long enough for my personal nut-ball to catch up with me. I must have been a really bad person in a past life to pay for it like I am in this life. Karma has a name. I just didn’t know it until I met Delaney.
“I’m sorry,” she says, pressing against my side.
I finally look at her. “Why are you doing this, Delaney?”
“Doing what?” She comes around to stand in front of me while everyone else is crossing. “Trying to care for you? You always made it so difficult.” Throwing her arms out wide, she says, “You act like it’s a crime.” Turning on her heel, she storms forward.
I hear the car before I have time to look.
Grabbing Delaney, I wrap my left arm around her as I use my casted arm to pull her against me in a rush and ending in a thud. Her scream was silent but ripped the air from her lungs. My breath is ragged, but I hold her tightly to me and maneuver out of the crosswalk.
Against the busy path of the sidewalk, I lean my shoulder against a brick wall. Closing my eyes, I drop my head to the top of hers as the reality of what almost happened sets in. “Are you okay?” I whisper while the scent of my shampoo, of me, fragrances her hair.
With her body melding to mine, she turns in my arms, keeping her head tucked to my chest. “No.” Only the one word is said, but as her shoulders rattle with a quiet sniffle, I realize her emotions are laid bare.
The carefree spirit of this woman I hardly know has been shaken.
That’s how fast our security can be ripped away.
One step too late and our lives are forever changed.
Like now. I’ve become desperate to console her, so I slow my breath to assuage my racing pulse because I’m no good to her if I can’t calm her fears. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
She nods her head and then looks up at me. “You saved me, Warner.”
The praise feels unearned somehow. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
Taking a step, she slips from my arms to lean her back against the brick wall. Her breathing is still unregulated, but her emotions have quelled. When she looks over at me, her smile seems to come naturally. “Seems I’m in your debt.”
“Don’t worry,” I say, chuckling. “I won’t hold it over you.” This, whatever this is we’re doing, feels too good to be real. No tension. No distrust. No questioning what we are or aren’t. We’re just two people sharing a laugh.
I know that’s not all it is, but at this moment, it feels too good to mess it up with wild accusations.
I’m tired of the back-and-forth. The woman’s wearing a ring on her finger, for Pete’s sake.
What kind of lunatic would go to those lengths to trick me into believing I’m married?
No one. Nobody would do that. What would there be to gain?
I would never marry without a prenup in place.
Oh shit. A prenup.
That’s it!
I need to call my attorney.
I reach for my pocket, but I still don’t have a phone.
She helped me look for it, but neither of us found it.
Still. So fucking annoying. Since we’re only a block from my office, I nod to signal to go.
She joins my side as we walk down the sidewalk away from the crosswalk.
In the shadows of the buildings, it’s cooler with some wind gusting past us.
She wraps her arms around herself and then says, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
With a laugh and a shoulder nudge to my arm, she says, “You know what. For saving me back there.”
“We don’t have to put that much weight on it. Anyone would have done the same.”
“Not true.” Her smile falls as her gaze redirects ahead. “Some would stand there and debate for a good solid minute if I were worth saving and then worry that they made things worse by waiting too long to help.”
I stop on the sidewalk, watching her walk ahead. “What?”