11. Owen
Well here I am ?
God, what the fuck was I saying? What was wrong with me?
I didn’t know, because my brain had short circuited, and it was all thanks to that dress.
That goddamn dress.
The way the sage green fabric clung to Delia’s lithe form honestly should’ve been a crime. The top suctioned to her breasts and torso before the skirt flared and swished around her toned thighs, showing off her long legs, her feet slipped into a pair of gold, open-toed stilettos. If I was a weaker man, the skirt would already be shoved up around her waist as I bent her over my desk.
God, I wanted to punch myself in the face. This woman was my partner , and my sort of employee. I’d seen the bullshit she dealt with from men online, and witnessed firsthand the way that jackass Clarke treated her. The last thing she needed was another man thirsting after her—least of all me .
I rose from my chair, intent on gesturing her inside, offering her a seat and a drink, but my arm got away from me and knocked over the two fingers of whiskey I’d poured myself when the noise from downstairs reached a fever pitch.
Yeah, I’d taken to drinking instead of simply closing the door.
First, I needed the cacophony of my guests to drown out my errant thoughts. Second, I needed the liquor to loosen my limbs after spending nearly two hours earlier inhaling Delia’s scent and letting her warmth seep into my body. Only, I hadn’t even managed a sip before my sexy as fuck business partner appeared like a gorgeous mirage in my doorway.
I’d been a certified dumbass not to have moved away from her at dinner, and I was paying for it now in the form of tension in my shoulders and a half-hard cock.
The dress wasn’t helping.
The liquid spread slowly, instantly soaking all the papers I had on my desk, including the to-do list I’d been working on when Delia appeared.
Seriously, what the fuck was this woman doing to me? We’d been in this office alone together countless times since getting into business together, and I’d never acted like this before. I’d been fully in control of my body, like I always had been. In that moment, though, I’d felt an awful lot like I’d magically reverted to my gangly preteen, brace-faced self. That awkward kid who’d stumbled over his feet on the way to ask the pretty girl in class to be his date to the upcoming homecoming dance.
I supposed there was something different about the circumstances. Beyond the windows, instead of the midday sunlight, there was nothing but blackness broken only by streetlights. The music from downstairs provided a steady, thumping background rhythm, matching my heartbeat. My skin felt too tight for my body, my breath loud and rapid.
Suffice it to say, my mind was giving me all kinds of ideas, the kind I needed to stay far away from. As though it had all played out on my face, when I looked at her again, Delia’s expression was bemused.
“Want a drink?” I croaked, leaving the mess on my desk to move around to my drink cart.
Delia shook her head, those dark chocolate locks brushing against the exposed swells of her breasts over the collar of her dress. It was so long that I could wrap it around my fist a few times before tugging her head back and zeroing my attention in on her throat. Settle my lips over her pulse and lightly scrape the spot with my teeth…
I shook my head. Fuck, I had to get it together. If I popped a boner in front of her, it’d be obvious what I was thinking about, and I refused to put her in that sort of uncomfortable position.
“At least come in and sit down then.”
A moment later, the door clicked shut behind me, cutting off the worst of the noise from downstairs. For the first time since she’d arrived, though she’d further secluded us in here, I could breathe, could hear myself think. For all my anxiety over being near her earlier, her presence suffused the air with a warmth and safety I wanted to bask in forever.
“Why did you offer me your land?” I blurted. I needed to regain control, to steer the conversation toward business. The situation in my pants was seconds away from growing dire, and I’d do anything to prevent that.
Thankfully, Delia had taken a seat on the couch—the one I’d come to think of as hers —those perfect, tanned stems of hers crossed in a way that had the dress riding precariously high. I sat simply to give myself a worse vantage point. I settled my own arm awkwardly on my thigh, using my hands clasped in front of me to hide my crotch. It took every fucking ounce of willpower I had to meet her eyes instead of look my fill at her beautiful body.
She shrugged again, and I found myself growing irritated with her nonchalance. First shrugging when she said she wanted to see me, as though that knowledge didn’t have my heart swelling in my chest, sending satisfaction zipping through me. And I understood not wanting to appear too eager, but…we were becoming friends, weren’t we? She was allowed to come see me, whenever she wanted.
But I didn’t understand how she could remain so calm and collected when I was fucking losing my mind over her.
“You didn’t want to build your forever home for your future family?” I asked, hopefully prompting a verbal response.
Those whiskey eyes met mine, something I couldn’t read flashing across them. “I guess I never imagined that for myself. I want a family, but…” she trailed off, that goddamn shoulder hitching up again. “Plus, I love my farmhouse, and I put a lot of work into updating it. That is my forever home.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question.”
“I guess I was waiting for the right project to come along.”
“And that project was me?”
“That project ended up being our distillery,” she corrected.
“Fair enough.”
Delia glanced around the room, doing everything she could to not look at me. When she noticed the photos I’d hung around the room, she got up, offering me a view of her posterior, of the groove of her spine and the smooth skin of her upper back.
Of her ass, which was round and perfect under the hem of that dress.
That ass would haunt my dreams, would drive me insane with how badly I wanted to sink my teeth—and maybe something else—into it.
Jesus, I was in a bad way.
The frames featured a collection of my families, both blood and sports, displayed there to remind me who I was and where I came from, to ground me every time I stepped foot in this office.
Her hair swishing against her bare skin was the only sound in the room as she studied them, and as I studied her.
At last, she lifted her arm and tapped one with a long, manicured fingernail. It was the candid shot of the Lawless clan from homecoming. Our final family photo.
“Who are they?” she asked.
“My parents and siblings.”
“All of them?” She glanced over her shoulder at me, her eyes wide.
“All of them,” I confirmed. “You act like you’ve never seen a big family, Miss Middle-Of-Five.
“Okay, true,” she said with a giggle, continuing along the walls, pausing every so often. Her silence as she studied the pictures made my skin crawl. As if, by looking at them, she could see right into the darkest depths of my soul.
I breathed a massive sigh of relief when she turned and asked, “How many of you are there?”
“Seven. Me, five brothers, and a baby sister. ”
“Baby?” Delia asked, brow raised, like she’d never used the same term to describe Brie, who was only two years her junior.
I knew she had, because I’d heard it.
“She’s fifteen years younger than me, so…yeah. Baby .”
Delia’s eyes widened and she said, “What about your brothers?”
“Trey is 35, Lane is 33, the twins, Finn and West, are 30, and Crew is 28.”
“Twins?” Delia asked, whirling on me fully. “And do they all look like you?”
I willed away the jealousy that spiked in my chest, resisting the urge to rub a palm against my sternum at the intrigue in her tone. “We’ve all got varying shades of sandy blond hair and blue-green eyes,” I said vaguely, taking a page out of her book and shrugging.
In truth, all of my brothers were handsome bastards, but I wasn’t about to tell Delia that.
“Where do they all live? Where are you even from?”
“They’re all back home in Idaho. Including my sister, Aria.”
“Let me guess,” she said with a smile. “She’s a singer. Or she wants to be.”
“Naturally,” I said. “How could she be anything else?”
“Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that,” Delia said, nodding sagely. “And your brothers?”
I quickly explained what each of them did, and Delia whistled low.
“What about your parents?”
“Ahh…” I started, swallowing around the lump that had taken up residence in my throat. “My mom is in Idaho too. She’s sort of the den mother for all the hands at our family ranch, and she helps my brothers out where they need it. My dad is…gone.”
I choked on the final word. It had been nearly seventeen years, and it was still difficult to talk about.
My tone must’ve conveyed enough because Delia didn’t press for more. She simply said, “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks,” I croaked.
“Your family, though…all of you are impressive. Like my sisters.”
“Like you ,” I emphasized. “And I wouldn’t call being a washed up, retired pro-athlete all that impressive.”
Delia met my eyes again, her whiskey depths swimming with something I couldn’t name. “So you know what it’s like then,” she said, so softly I barely heard.
“What what’s like?”
“To grow up in a family where your talents can get swallowed and overshadowed by those of your siblings. Then again”—she cocked her head to the side, that heavy, dark curtain of her hair fanning down one of her arms, her intoxicating eyes doing a full sweep of me from head to toe—“you became an NFL quarterback who won two Super Bowls in ten seasons, was named MVP in one of them, and are now a highly successful business owner. So maybe I should be asking your siblings that question.”
“I’m not—” I scrambled for a way to phrase this in a way that made sense to her. On paper, yeah, I was successful. And while I’d loved playing football—had always been destined to do so—I recognized that it wasn’t an essential profession like cops, teachers, and medical services. I finally settled on, “I’m a quick thinker and good at throwing a football. My brothers are literal heroes. They’re certainly mine. ”
She stepped toward me, tentatively at first, testing whether I’d back away before taking her next. But I couldn’t move even if I wanted to, completely entranced by that whiskey gaze and the way it seemed to see right through me. Like she could see the soft underbelly beneath my muscles.
“You’re someone’s hero too,” she said, settling a warm palm on my arm.
I sucked in a breath at the contact, and the moment lengthened between us. Time seemed to warp and stretch, cocooning us in a bubble where I forgot about everything that existed outside of it.
I could think of nothing but the blood pumping through my veins, her pulse fluttering against the smooth skin of her pretty neck, and how badly I wanted to press my lips, my tongue, my teeth to that spot—and everywhere else she’d let me.
Delia inhaled and leaned toward me.
Fuck, we were really doing it, weren’t we? There’d be no going back, and I didn’t give a fuck. Despite being someone who made a life and career out of being cautious, I welcomed the recklessness of this moment with open arms.
With her, I wanted to be wild.
I wanted her so badly I was afraid I’d die if I didn’t shoot my shot. I tilted my head to the side, lifting a hand to delve my fingers into her hair—
And then my office door flew open.
We jumped apart like we were on fire.
“Boss,” Hugo said, unperturbed by what he’d interrupted. “We’ve got a problem.”
I didn’t look at him, stare still locked on Delia. “So handle it. ”
“Ahh…” Hugo started. “As much as I’d like to—and I tried, as did the other guys—unfortunately this one requires your…special touch.”
Fuck.
That could only mean one thing: some belligerent asshole was demanding to see the boss, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. We’d had a few instances like this since I’d opened the place, and there was only one thing that would quell this brand of drama—me making an appearance. But I knew from experience that me dragging my ass downstairs would have one of two receptions. Either everyone would settle as I slid behind the bar, or a dangerous riot of excitement would ensue as people pushed and shoved their way to the front and center of my attention.
Delia cleared her throat and retreated further, sucking in a deep breath. “I should get back to my sisters anyway,” she said, not looking at me.
“Hugo and I will walk you down,” I said. “I don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire. ”
She quirked a brow dubiously. “How bad could it be?”
Those proved to be famous last words, which we discovered quickly as we descended onto the main floor.
The second I stepped off the final stair, I was mobbed, Delia pressed close to my side, jostled between me and Hugo.
Cheers had gone up when I appeared on the landing, and the moment I reached the floor, the crowd surged, my patrons desperately seeking my attention. Shouts of my name rang out, and random objects waved in the air over our heads—everything from napkins and receipts to, inexplicably, a pair of panties and a white tank top. I didn’t want to know who they belonged to, wasn’t interested in learning if tonight was yet another night in which naked women traipsed around my club. My only focus was Delia, who had reached for me before the mass of people closed around us and glued herself to my side.
I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her because of me.
“I want you to leave!” I yelled at her over the melee, curling my arm around her waist to keep her from getting swept away. “Grab your sisters and get the fuck out of here.”
Delia shook her head. “I’m not leaving you to deal with this by yourself! We’re partners, remember?”
“Not in this business we’re not!”
“I don’t care.”
I laced my fingers through hers, shifting her slightly in front of me, trying my best to shield her from the worst of the sharp elbows finding their way into my own back and sides. Hugo and other members of my staff ran interference around us. “I’m not by myself,” I said, my lips pressed to the shell of her ear so I didn’t have to shout. “I have my security team.”
“Yeah, and they’re doing a great job,” she said, her sarcasm punctuated by glass shattering nearby.
And, okay, she wasn’t wrong. The crowd pushed and shoved against me and the four hulking men, two of whom were former offensive linemen who had protected my ass for much of my ten years in Detroit.
I’d found myself in a few of these situations since opening the club, but tonight felt different. There was a malice in the air I hadn’t experienced before, and the hair at the nape of my neck stood on end. I’d spent so many years allowing grown men to throw their bodies at me, had suffered enough scrapes and bruises—in addition to a few concussions and broken bones, saying nothing of my career-ending injury—that nothing really phased me anymore.
But tonight? I was scared.
Not for myself. I was big, heavy, and strong. I could take care of myself.
No, I was worried for Delia.
“Will you please just go?” I wasn’t above begging, and if I could’ve got down on my knees amidst the crush of bodies, I would have.
Delia vigorously shook her head, slamming into my body as someone pushed her from behind. Her eyes were steely, defiant, as she said, “No. I’m staying here with you.”
Why was she so goddamn stubborn? Why wouldn’t she just leave and let me handle this myself?
A trainwreck was approaching, and it seemed no matter what I said, we’d both be here to greet it.
I saw the collision a breath before it happened.
A man lifted a bottle, clearly intent on breaking it over Hugo’s head with the man’s back turned to him like a goddamn coward. I wasn’t close enough, not without shoving Delia out of the way, and I refused to throw her to the wolves like that. But she must’ve seen my gaze widen, because she turned to find what I stared at. Quick as lightning, her hand snatched out, her fingers circling the man’s wrist. The strength in those slender arms surprised me as she held him off, even as the caveman in my chest roared at me to come to her rescue.
The man with the bottle whirled on her, other arm raised, fist clenched as though preparing to drive it into the center of her face. Before I could move, though, one look at her beauty had him grinning, slowly and slyly, both arms lowering. Two seconds flat and she had him fully entranced.
I knew the feeling.
“Helloooooooo, gorgeous,” the man slurred.
I groaned. Whoever was bartending tonight was getting a severe reprimand for not cutting him off before this shit started.
“Put the bottle down,” Delia said firmly.
“Or what?”
Seemingly out of nowhere, the younger Delatous sisters appeared at her back, and Ella held Delia’s phone out to her.
After a few taps of the screen, Delia began recording, holding the camera right in the man’s face.
“Or I’ll blast this video of your face all over social media and get you blacklisted from every club and bar in this entire fucking country.”
The man sneered. “You don’t have that kind of pull.”
Delia stepped closer, a feline grin on her face. “Try me.”
“I’d listen to her if I was you,” I said, and the man’s eyes widened as he took me in.
“Owen!” the man yelped like we were old friends. “I just wanted to say hi and get an autograph.”
“Hi,” I deadpanned in response. “What’s your name?”
The man grinned, digging into his shirt pocket and withdrawing a dirty napkin. “Ned,” he said, extending it to me. “Ned Fleck.”
“Well, Ned , you’re not getting an autograph,” I said, barely restraining myself from swatting his hand away. “In fact, you’re never setting foot in one of my establishments again.” I inclined my head toward Delia. “Wanna go for broke?”
After a beat in which the man’s gaze darted back and forth between me and Delia, he settled for spitting, “Fuck you, you stupid bitch,” at her.
That was a mistake.
Rage boiled my blood, a killing calm settling over me. Like it was fourth and goal with the game on the line, and the linebacker across from me had me in his crosshairs. Like he’d just insulted my mother, and I was going to make him live to regret it.
With a gentle palm against her stomach, I pushed Delia out of the way, behind me and into the embrace of her sisters…
And drove my fist into the bastard’s face.
One hit was all it took before he was on the ground, blood spurting from his nose. From his back, the man hissed like a snake, threatening to call the cops, to sue me, to take all my money and businesses away from him.
He continued to spew vitriol at me as my team lifted him up and carried him out the door.