Chapter 15 Delilah
Chapter fifteen
Delilah
I can hear the music coming from Rick’s—the small-town honkytonk most of the Cedar Ridge locals frequent—as I walk down the sidewalk. Low, purple light spills out of the bar as the door opens and a drunken couple staggers out into the night.
I catch the door and duck inside, taking a quick glance around the room at the tables filled with groups sipping on drinks and the couples line dancing on the dancefloor.
I smooth my knee-length dress and tug my cardigan snugly around my shoulders.
When Harrison had suggested I come out tonight with him and his friends, at first, I’d said no.
I often do. Harrison’s a good brother and invites me places, but he and I are a different breed.
Rick’s has never really been my go-to spot.
But, in Harrison fashion, he hadn’t taken no for an answer this time. “You’ve been holed up working on that book like a hermit,” he’d said. “I haven’t seen you in over a week.”
I wish Sarah were here. I’d asked her, but she had prior commitments tonight.
I scan the bar, searching for familiar faces. Harrison’s, and, obviously, Graham’s. Because if Harrison is here, Graham will be too.
I haven’t seen him since we had sex a week ago, and the thought of seeing him now sends butterflies tangling through my stomach.
He’d texted the day after asking how I was. I responded. He suggested hanging out again the next day. I made up an excuse. He tried again. I turned him down.
Because each text, each invitation, confirmed what I’d realized the moment Graham stepped out my door. I’m falling into … something, and that cannot, under any circumstances, happen.
The music is loud, and the place is crowded, and I’m just about to retreat to a corner and text Harrison, when, across the bar, I lock gazes with a set of familiar blue eyes. Painfully familiar.
I see Graham register a number of things—surprise, relief, maybe even hurt. And then, before I can even decide what my next move is, he’s making his way through the crowd toward me.
I swallow, glancing around, but there’s nowhere to run.
Graham never takes his eyes off me as he crosses the room.
“Hey,” I say softly, my voice barely carrying above the loud music, as Graham comes to a stop before me.
“Hey,” he says, his eyebrows drawing together as he looks down at me. “How are you?”
“Good,” I answer quickly, suddenly feeling shy. So shy. Way too shy considering everything Graham and I have done together.
“Okay …” He nods, runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just that you kind of blew me off this week, and I was a bit worried about what happened. You’re okay, right?” Genuine concern fills his eyes, and suddenly I’m swarmed with guilt. Shit.
“I’m fine, I promise,” I say, reaching out to touch his arm.
But I regret it the second I do. He’s warm, hard, his muscles defined even under the plaid long-sleeve he’s wearing.
I pull my hand back almost as if burned.
I swallow. “I’ve honestly just been busy with the book,” I say.
Which is true. I have. This week has felt like fire—in a good way.
The kind of fire that only comes from a project that’s practically flowing out of your brain rather than being extracted from it.
Graham’s expression lightens, and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “Yeah?”
I nod, feeling myself lighten a bit too. “Yeah. I sent another scene off to my agent, and she signed off on it. Said it was great and to keep going.”
“Dee, that’s great!” Graham says, gripping my shoulders and shaking me playfully.
I try to shrug off the compliment but end up laughing. “Yeah, I’m relieved, honestly.”
“So the lessons worked,” Graham says, his voice a bit quieter, although no one important is in earshot anyway.
I can feel the beginnings of a blush, and I look away. “Seems like it,” I admit.
I can feel his gaze on me—heavy, hot. There’s a pause, and then, “Hey, so uh—”
“You made it!” Harrison slams into me from the side, crushing me into one of his bear hugs and lifting me off the ground. He’s obviously already had a few.
Graham takes an almost unnoticeable step back.
“Put me down, Harrison,” I say through a laugh, and he does.
“Get my baby sister a drink, will you, Graham?” Harrison says while wrapping an arm around my shoulder and steering me toward the back. “We’ve got a table back here,” he says. I see Graham beeline to the bar.
Harrison leads me to the table where a handful of his friends from work are gathered. Some of them I know, and some of them I don’t. But they’ve all got one, distinct vibe in common. Cowboys.
“I’m Cora,” a woman with short, blonde hair next to me says, leaning forward slightly to be heard over the music. “I’m sure we’ve met before, but I’m terrible with names.”
“Delilah,” I reply with a smile. “And yeah, you look familiar.” She’s the only woman in the bunch, and I’m assuming she’s with the tall, sandy-haired cowboy to her left.
“My husband and I work on the ranch,” she goes on. “What about you? You dating one of these idiots?” Her eyes sparkle with humor.
Just then, Graham appears at the table, some fruity-looking drink in hand, which he shoves in my direction.
Cora raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you two …?”
“No,” I say quickly, just as Graham lets out a harsh, “Nope.” I throw him a startled glance before turning back to Cora.
“I’m Harrison’s sister.”
Cora nods, understanding washing over her. “Ah, I see the resemblance.”
Harrison says something from the other side of Graham that gets everyone’s attention and launches into some ranch story I couldn’t care less about. I glance down at the drink in my hand. “What is this?” I ask Graham.
He shrugs a shoulder. “Asked the bartender for a girly drink.”
I roll my eyes. I take a sip, make a show of pondering the moment, and then shrug. “It’s pretty good,” I admit. “Still have no idea what’s in it.”
Graham grins down at me, looks like he wants to say something else, but then Harrison claps him on the shoulder from beside him. “Tell them about that fucking storm, dude,” he practically yells. “It was insane.”
As Graham is pulled into the conversation, I glance around the bar.
I take a sip of my fruity drink and observe.
Lots of drunk people. Lots of dancing. Lots of people having a good time in general.
I’m still on a high from my latest email from my agent, so the typical nerves I’d be feeling in a crowded place like this are gone.
A flash of blonde hair has my eyes widening, and recognition hits me.
I begin moving across the room, only to discover a few steps in that the woman by the door is not, in fact, Sarah.
I stop, purse my lips. Damn. It really would be much more fun if she were here.
Besides, I still have a lot to catch her up on.
Everything, in fact …
“Hey,” a voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn to see a man standing behind me.
“Oh, sorry—am I in your way?” I say, quickly sidestepping him.
“No,” the man chuckles. “I’m Derek. I wanted to ask if you want to dance?”
Surprise hits me like a freight train, and I simply stand there for a few moments. “Uh … well,” I stutter.
“Are you here with someone?” Derek asks quickly.
“Oh, no, not that,” I say. “I’m just not the best dancer.”
Derek grins, and I can’t help but notice how nice of a smile he has. Twinkling, blue eyes. Blond hair. He’s cute. “I get that. I’m not the biggest dancer either, I just figured it was a smooth opener. Or—at least as smooth as I can come up with.”
I find myself grinning. Yeah, Derek is definitely cute.
“What’s your name?” Derek asks.
Oh. I guess I hadn’t told him that. “Delilah,” I answer.
“Well, Delilah, how about I teach you the limited steps I know, and we go from there?” he suggests.
And as self-conscious as I am about stepping out on that dance floor, the way Derek makes it sound doesn’t seem all that bad.
“Okay,” I agree with a smile, and Derek holds out his hand.
I take it, and together we head to the dancefloor. Our moves are definitely awkward and stilted, but eventually we’re able to somewhat keep up.
“I think you’re a natural at this,” Derek quips when I step on his foot, and it sends me into a fit of laughter.
As the night wears on, I notice Cora and Theo join the dancefloor, along with Harrison and his new … girlfriend? I’m not sure if they’re official yet, but she’s here. At one point, I peek a glance at Graham, sitting alone at the table, clutching a beer and scowling.
I frown. This seems like his element. Are there no pretty women for him to go flirt with?
Derek spins me into him as the latest song ends, his lips pressed against my ear as he murmurs, “Delilah, can I get your number?”
Grinning, I spin around, holding out my hand for his phone. He gives it to me, I put in my contact, and I hand it back over.
It’s only now that I realize how late it’s gotten, especially as I notice Harrison and his girl exiting hand in hand. Without even a goodbye to your sister, I think with a roll of my eyes.
“I have to use the restroom,” I tell Derek. “I’ll be right back.”
I head toward the corner of the now much less crowded bar, dipping into the women’s bathroom and doing my business.
I take a moment to check my reflection on the way out, running my fingers through my hair, smoothing the skirt of my short, black dress.
And with a quick grin, I’m back out the door—and running right into the large, broad chest of … Graham?
“What—?” I sputter.
“Having fun?” Graham asks, but his tone is … odd.
I take a small step back and look him in the eye. “What do you mean?”
He looks annoyed, but I can’t figure out why. “Are you having fun with that guy, or is he bugging you?”
I narrow my eyes, his tone, his question, the way he’s been acting all night slowly settling over me. “I’m allowed to dance,” I eventually say.
“Didn’t say you weren’t,” Graham shoots back.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Then why do you look like you want to start a fight?”
Graham stares me down, clenching his jaw.
He takes an imperceptibly small step toward me, his gaze boring holes through my skull, and I think he’s going to say something, do something—but then he looks away, huffs.
He takes a deep breath, then brings his gaze back to me.
“Just wanna make sure that guy’s good enough for you. ”
I blink. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
There’s a pause. A long one. Then, “I don’t believe you.” I’m not even sure what I’m insinuating with that comment, but it’s true. I don’t believe him.
Anger flares in Graham’s eyes—anger at me, Derek, or the situation, I don’t know. “Someone’s gotta watch out for you,” he settles on.
“You’re not my brother,” I scoff.
“No. I’m not,” he practically spits.
“Then what are you—”
“God I really wanna pin you against a wall right now,” Graham mutters, taking a step forward, his blue eyes dark, his gaze … fuck, it’s the look he had in his eyes before we ...
I step away, my back hitting the wall of the narrow hallway.
“Why don’t you?” I manage. It’s barely a whisper, barely anything, but before I’ve even managed to get it all out, Graham has both my wrists in his grasp and has pinned them to the wall at my sides—gently, but hard enough to keep me there.
“Why don’t you want me going home with him?” I breathe. Because even though I spent all last week avoiding Graham like the plague, avoiding the terrifying feelings growing within me, I want him to say it. I want him to say what I swear I’m seeing in his eyes right now.
Graham takes in a shaky breath. “Because no man is good enough for you.”
My heart hammers in my chest, loud enough that I worry he hears it. “And what about you?” I press.
“Especially not me,” he murmurs, his gaze dipping to my lips.
My chest rises and falls, the air between us way too thin. “Then why do you have me pinned against the wall?”
He closes his eyes, briefly, as if what he’s about to say pains him. “Because I’m not a good man, Delilah,” he breathes, and then he kisses me.