Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Delilah
Waking up in Wilder’s bed isn’t something I thought I’d ever experience.
But what’s most surprising about it is that nothing happened between us in here.
I feel foolish for begging him to fuck me in my truck, and now I hope it’s not awkward between us and that he’ll never bring it up again.
“Hey, darlin’. How’re you feelin’?”
My stomach flutters before my eyes peel open. Him calling me that in his gruff voice instead of Delly—which has always done something to me—has me dragging my bottom lip between my teeth.
He’s called me Delly for years. It’s what my high school friends called me, but I grew out of it after graduation. I don’t even think he realizes he still calls me that, but it sounds different coming from him. Like a secret just between us.
Waylon and him were seniors when I was a sophomore and we ran in different social circles, but everyone knew of the Hollis twins. You had to live under a rock not to know about them or think they weren’t the hottest guys in school.
Wilder was always getting into trouble and Waylon was always bailing him out.
I was in the same class with their younger brother, Landen, who also got into a lot of shit. Pretty sure he dated most of the girls in our class.
Poor Mrs. Hollis was in the principal’s office more in those years than when she attended.
Admittedly, when Waylon and I ran into each other years later, I was honored to get his attention. We had enough in common to enjoy each other’s company and go on dates or hang out in between taking care of my dad and volunteering. But then my sister’s incident happened only a couple months later.
He supported me through it as best as he could, but I couldn’t juggle being in a relationship and a caregiver. Mom was working twelve-hour shifts at the hospital, so I was the only one who could stay home and help.
Inevitably, I told Waylon we needed to take a break so I’d stop feeling guilty for being a bad girlfriend. I couldn’t give him the attention he deserved and needed time to dedicate to my family.
Waylon was hurt and assumed I was breaking up with him for good and ended up sleeping with someone else two weeks later.
I had hoped we’d eventually get back together once my sister recovered, but after that happened, I didn’t see him the same way.
I was angry with him for a long time but eventually got over it. We both grew up and matured and got on friendly terms again. But then he fell in love with my little sister, who’s ten years younger than me.
Go figure.
“Woke up pissed that the floor didn’t open up and swallow me whole,” I respond to his question and then yank the covers higher to hide my face.
Wilder chuckles, deep and smooth, and it’s such a rarity for it to be genuine that I’m almost taken aback by how much I love it.
And how much I want to hear it again and again.
Wilder is the epitome of someone who puts on a show that he’s a happy-go-lucky, fun guy, but it’s only surface-level because inside he’s miserable.
He suffers from the type of depression where he can easily hide it by being the class clown and funny guy in group settings that if you didn’t know his deepest, darkest secrets, you’d never know he used cutting, drinking, and sex as a coping device.
One look at him and you’d think there’s no way this good-looking and charming cowboy is miserable inside.
Wilder doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable with his mental health issues, himself included, so he pretends he’s fine.
He’s a pro at it after all these years.
If Waylon hadn’t told me ahead of time, I would’ve never guessed based on how he presented himself the first time we met in person.
“Wanna grab lunch at The Lodge before you go home?” he asks, sitting on the edge of the bed and slowly pulling down the covers to reveal my face.
“I don’t have anything to wear. That guy spilled beer on my shirt, and I’m not wearin’ that out in public.”
“You can borrow somethin’ of mine.”
“I’ll drown in anythin’ of yours.”
Although I like the thought of wearing one of his shirts, I wanna go home and shower. I probably look as rough as I feel. It’s my day off and all I wanna do is rot in my own bed until tomorrow morning.
“Nah, you can do that tuck ’n tie thing girls do…” He stands, walks to his closet, and goes through it.
“The what?” I murmur, pulling myself up into a sitting position in only my bra.
After Wilder tucked me in, I threw off my shirt and now I’m wishing I’d remembered to grab it before he returned.
His bed is actually super comfortable, so I slept like a rock, but I feel hungover. Not from alcohol, but from being up so late and mentally exhausted.
“Here, this should work.” He holds up a black T-shirt with the ranch’s white logo on the chest pocket. “Just tie it in a knot.”
I lift a shoulder, giving in to the idea because I’m starving and can shower later. “Sure, fine. Do you have any headache meds?”
He stares at me before lowering his gaze down to my chest, and I wonder if he’s remembering the way he touched my nipples last night. He clears his throat, then blinks a few times before he nods.
“Yeah, I’ll grab you a couple and a glass of water.” He hands me the shirt, then walks toward the kitchen like he can’t leave the room fast enough.
By the time we get to The Lodge, it’s packed with guests and numerous Hollis family members.
It’s the main building on the retreat where guests check in, sign up for activities, and where everyone eats when they stay here.
The workers come in here during their breaks to take advantage of the brunch buffet.
Considering their long hours and working in various weather conditions, it makes sense.
I’ve only been here a handful of times, but I’m already glad I agreed to come.
The array of smells hits my nose as soon as we enter. One thing’s for sure, Hollises don’t mess around when it comes to Southern cuisine and their family recipes.
A few buffet-style tables line one wall with a dessert feast on the end, and I help myself to all of it.
Everyone stares when I bring my plate to the table and sit in between Wilder and Waylon. I know I look rough, but they’re looking at me like I’m half-dead.
A zombie probably looks better than I do right now.
“Heard you had an entertainin’ night,” Waylon drawls.
“Guess you could call it that.” I look around for the silverware, then realize I forgot to grab some.
Wilder takes a bite of his food before handing me his fork. “Here, take mine.”
“Thanks,” I say, then watch as he stands to grab a new one.
“You coulda called me so you didn’t have to wait at the station,” Waylon says.
“What for? I gave you my word I’d watch out for him and that’s what I was doin’,” I tell him. “Not like he punched a cop. Oh, wait—” I stop dramatically, and everyone’s gaze flies toward Wilder as he sits next to me.
“Who’d you hit?” Landen asks, sitting across from us with Tripp to his left.
“Wesley,” Wilder murmurs.
“How the hell are you not in jail?” Tripp asks the next question.
“Good fuckin’ question.” Waylon shakes his head.
“I already got my ass reamed by the sheriff and Mom. No need to add to it.” Wilder digs into his pancakes and shoves a huge bite in his mouth, clearly not wanting to talk about it anymore.
“You slept here last night?” Noah asks from Landen’s right. She’s four years younger than me, but she’s already married, with a three-year-old and a baby on the way. She’s had her life figured out since before she could legally buy alcohol.
Makes me worried I’m behind in life being in my early thirties with neither a husband, kid, or career. But I don’t blame her. I’ve wondered that more times this past year than ever before.
“Yep. After waitin’ four hours for them to process him, I fell asleep, so Wilder drove us here,” I tell her.
“Hm…interestin’.” Noah grins around a sausage link, her eyes lingering over my face.
After lunch, I say goodbye to everyone and then Wilder walks me out to my truck.
“Do you want me to drive you back to the barn?” I ask, although it’s just down the road.
Things are awkward now.
That’s what I get for mauling him like a horny animal.
“Nah, it’s a five-minute walk.”
“You’ll let me know how tomorrow goes?” I ask, jumping into the driver’s seat.
“Yep…assumin’ I don’t get locked up right away. So if ya don’t hear from me, bring bail money.”
I start the engine, then roll down the window before closing the door.
“That’s not funny,” I deadpan. The Hollises have more than enough money to bail his dumb ass out, but I’d still hate to see him get jail time for something that involved me swerving in the first place.
“Don’t worry. I’ll sweet-talk my way outta it.” He winks, leaning his elbows through the open window.
“That smug attitude is what gets you into trouble.”
“So you shouldn’t even be surprised at this point, right?”
That devilish smirk of his is why girls drop to their knees for him.
“I guess not. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good luck.”
His face is close to mine, almost too close, so I pull my seat belt over my chest and click it into place, then wait for him to get the hint to back away so I don’t run over his boots.
“Delilah…” He rises on his feet and leans in further. “Don’t think we aren’t talkin’ later about that kiss and you comin’ on my fingers. But for now…” He brushes his lips against my cheek and presses them softly against my skin. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”
I’m too shocked by his bold move that it takes me until I get home fifteen minutes later to process that he said he’d be seeing me tomorrow.
Not sure what he means by that considering I work all day. We don’t normally see each other during the week either.
And I hate that a part of me gets excited about that thought.
“Girl, where the hell have you been and why do you look like you got railed all night long?” Matilda, my best friend since elementary school and roommate for the past few years, blurts the moment I walk into our apartment.
She works at Lacey’s with me and it’s always a blast when we’re scheduled together.
I drop my bag and keys on the table and then slide off my shoes. “Such a long-ass story. I need to shower and then I’ll give you the CliffNotes.”
“Screw that. I want the fully detailed story.” She grins, curling up higher on the couch. “Especially wanna know who gave you that hickey.”
“What?” I rush to the bathroom and scream when I look in the mirror.
That motherfucker. He didn’t even tell me and no doubt he saw it.
No wonder Noah was grinning at me.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, exiting the bathroom and shaking my head.
“So…who is he?” Mattie drawls.
“That’s from a lapse of judgment from being horny and tipsy,” I halfway lie, but she doesn’t need to know the specifics.
“That doesn’t answer my question of who…”
I grab a tumbler from the cabinet and fill it with ice and water before meeting her in the living room where she’s eagerly waiting.
“You cannot freak out,” I warn her. “But it was Wilder.”
She dramatically smacks her hand down on the couch. “I fuckin’ knew it! About goddamn time you two hooked up considerin’ y’all go out so much.”
“He stopped us before we could have sex, so don’t get too excited.”
“Wait…he stopped it?”
“Hold on…we’re gonna need somethin’ much stronger than water.” Standing, I go to the kitchen and find a bottle of white wine. All the glasses are dirty, so I unscrew the top and take a swig.
I might as well tell her everything and get it off my chest.