Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
brEWER
The second Delaney tipped his face up toward mine and whispered, “Y-yes?” I was gone.
I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. I took his lips with mine.
His mouth was warm, pliant, wine-sweet, and when he sighed into me, it wrecked me completely. Weeks—months—of tension, of low-key wanting to strangle him and high-key wanting my hands on him, unspooled in a flashfire. I groaned as I wrapped one arm around his waist and hauled him closer.
Delaney made a surprised, eager sound and pushed onto his toes, hands curling into my shirt like he couldn’t get close enough. His body melted against mine, all silk and heat under my sweatshirt. His lips clung to mine like a promise.
Fuck , he tasted good.
Delaney kissed like he argued—instinctively, no holds barred. There was nothing tentative in it, no trace of hesitance. Just heat and need and hunger. His mouth moved under mine eagerly, and every sweep of his tongue sent a jolt down my spine.
My fingers slid beneath the hem of my sweatshirt he wore, finding the smooth, warm skin of his hip as I backed him toward the couch. I was desperate to get my hands on more of him, to feel more of his skin and hear whatever ridiculous noise he might make if I bit?—
Without warning, something in the house gave a loud mechanical pop and cut off with a dying wheeze. All the white-noise electrical whirring of a home with electricity ceased. And the room was abruptly, eerily quiet.
We jumped apart like guilty teenagers, panting and wide-eyed.
“The, uh… That was… “ I ran a hand over my kiss-bruised mouth. “Storm knocked the power out, I think.”
Delaney made a huffing sound—a laugh, but not—and straightened his shoulders. “Yes. Right. Good… good observation.” He glanced around the firelit room, his eyes darting from the couch to the windows to the bookcases—anywhere but at me. “That was unexpected.”
He probably meant the electricity, but my face went hot anyway.
What the fuck had possessed me? I had no business kissing my client like that. Jesus, I had no business kissing anyone like that—no warning, no preamble, like I wanted nothing more than to crawl into Delaney’s mouth and write my name there, to brand him from the inside.
I sure as fuck had no business wanting to do it again. Immediately.
My brain knew better, but the beer buzz running through me made everything seem… looser.
Possible.
Down boy .
“I’ve had beer,” I said stupidly. “Three? Four? Not… not too many. But I didn’t have dinner, so they hit me hard. Hard-ish. And Reed—you know Reed Sunday?—was at the Hive, and he offered to drive me home, so.”
“Uh-huh. Uh-huh.” Delaney nodded almost compulsively. “Smart thinking. The not-driving part, I mean. And that explains the, ah, the lack of truck noise.” His nostrils flared. “I’d expected some truck noise.”
“Oh…” I wrinkled my nose. He sounded angry about that, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. “Sorry?”
As he waved away my apology, his ping-ponging gaze found the wine bottle he’d left on the floor. He grabbed it by the neck and set it on the mantel. “Actually, I was drinking, too. God, yes. Super drinking! Wine, though, not beer. And I… I can’t even remember if I ate, that’s how tipsy I am.” He forced a laugh. “Definitely… definitely feeling the effects.”
I nodded, not surprised and only slightly disappointed. Delaney had to be a little buzzed, kissing me back the way he had. And I’d tasted the wine on his tongue?—
Not thinking about his tongue.
I cleared my throat. “I guess Hen was right, huh? He predicted we’d get at least a foot. Never bet against the leg ,” I quoted.
Delaney scowled fiercely, a perfect blend of disbelief and exasperation, like he took Hen’s leg as a personal affront.
“What century is this?” he demanded, though the word came out more like shenshury . “Have people in Copper County never heard of science?”
“They have…” I remembered my cousin and Kel’s definition of science, and despite everything, I grinned. “In a manner of speaking. I heard Hen say it’s about a microclimate in the area and a drop in barometric pressure affecting him.”
“Oh. Well. That’s…” He gazed out the window thoughtfully for a moment, then scowled more fiercely. “Fucking annoying.”
My laughter erupted unexpectedly. “It’s annoying because there might actually be a scientific explanation?”
“I meant it’s annoying because I still haven’t bought a fucking shovel.” He shot me a sidelong glance. The light from the flames reflected in his glasses. “But yeah, that too. It’s annoying, having to reshuffle the way you think about things.”
It was hard not to find Delaney adorable at the moment… because of the beer, naturally.
His hair stood up in places where my fingers had slid through it, his lips still slightly swollen from our kiss, and something about the disheveled, firelit version of him made my chest tighten.
Belatedly, I nodded, and my tongue darted out to lick my lips. “Or,” I suggested, “you could just not think. For tonight. I mean, since you’ve been drinking. Probably not the best time to… think.”
Not about Copper County. Not about our kiss. Not about how he looked with my shirt hanging down his thighs?—
“Yeah,” Delaney said finally. He blinked like he was trying to bring me into better focus. “I agree.”
I was so distracted by all the things I wasn’t supposed to be thinking of it took me a second to remember what the fuck we’d been saying. When I did, I nodded again.
I’d become a throat-clearing bobblehead.
“Good.” I rubbed at the back of my neck, feeling the full weight of the awkward tension between us. “Should I—? I mean, I should probably take Teeny upstairs for the night.” I shifted a thumb toward the garage, like Delaney might have forgotten where I was staying.
Teeny, who’d stretched out in front of one of the bookcases flanking the fireplace, heard her name and lifted her head inquisitively.
Delaney chafed his arms. “But… if the power’s out, the heat won’t work, right? Won’t she be cold?”
My eyebrows rose. He was right, of course, and I should have thought of that. Would have, if I hadn’t been so back-footed. But since when did he care about my dog’s comfort?
His jaw set stubbornly. “What? I’m not an asshole. I feel for other creatures, Brewer, even if I don’t entirely trust them. Besides, we reached a… a detente.” He darted a glance at Teeny. “Tell him.”
Teeny panted happily, big eyes fixed on Delaney with unconcealed adoration. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, and though I couldn’t see it, I knew a small pile of drool was collecting on the floor.
“So all I’m saying,” Delaney continued, not looking at me, “is that if you—and Teeny, obviously—wanted to stay here, by the fire, with me, that would be… that would be acceptable.”
I took a deep breath. It hadn’t just been for Teeny’s sake that I’d wanted to retreat upstairs. Like a genie that had escaped its bottle, the sexual energy between Delaney and me was harder to push down now that it had had a taste of freedom, and every goddamn time Delaney moved, I had to suck in a breath as pure want surged under my skin.
But Delaney was right; with no electricity, the boiler wouldn’t be working. There was no need to start the generator now. Not when we didn’t know how long the power would be out and when the fireplace could keep this room comfortable. It was the practical solution. The reasonable choice.
Besides which, Hayes’s voice was still in my head, accusing me of retreating when things became difficult.
“Okay,” I said at length. “Let’s grab some blankets and things. I’ll get the sleeping bag I’ve been using. You can get… whatever you need.”
I was already walking toward the kitchen and turning on my phone’s flashlight by the time I finished speaking. Cold had seeped into the breezeway, and I slowed my steps, hoping the chill would help me calm the fuck down. The beer had given me a nice buzz—that wasn’t a total lie—but kissing Delaney had given me an even stronger one.
I misjudged the distance to the doorframe and bumped my shoulder against it, cursing under my breath. Then I pressed the heel of my hand against the front of my jeans, willing my body to cooperate. The last thing I needed was to return with an obvious hard-on.
When I returned to the living room, Teeny was still sitting in the spot she’d claimed, apparently content to observe the weird humans from a distance. Delaney had pulled the pillows off the sofa and sat on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest. It appeared he’d fetched a fresh bottle of wine and a glass for me.
“You think we need more to drink?” I asked casually as I squatted down to stoke the fire. Though the flames were crackling warm and steady, my pulse was definitely not.
No looking at his legs. No remembering how he tasted .
“I figured more wine would help with all the not-thinking I’m doing,” he joked, his voice rougher than usual. “Unless you can think of a… different way to distract me?”
“What?” I twisted around so quickly I nearly face-planted.
Delaney’s eyes widened. “No! No, no,” he stammered. “I meant distract me with your talents.” His eyes widened impossibly further. “Not those talents! I meant dancing! Or singing! Or… magic tricks!”
It was one of the strange truths of my interactions with Delaney that sometimes the more upset he got, the more calm I became. Seeing him now, flushed and mortified, I felt warmth surge through my chest.
“Don’t know any magic tricks,” I said easily. I plunked myself down beside him—close enough to see him in the dim light, not close enough that we were touching—and stretched my legs out toward the fire. “And I don’t sing or dance.”
“Lies.” He looked away quickly and took a deep drink of wine.
I laughed and picked up the second glass he’d poured. “Nope. I suppose I’ve been known to chicken-dance at the occasional wedding, but you’d have to get me a lot drunker or really make it worth my while if you wanted me to demonstrate.”
Delaney darted a look at me. “I meant singing. I heard you sing. The other day at the camper.”
“Oh.” There were a lot of memories his words might have conjured. Shitty, scary ones of the camper burning.
Instead, my brain summoned a memory of Delaney’s finger jabbing my chest, the heat of his touch lingering long after he pulled away, and I had to shift positions to hide my reaction.
“That’s…” I blinked as the full meaning of his words actually made it through my muddled brain. “Wait, what did you hear?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “You. Singing ‘Defying Gravity.’ Pretty convincingly, too.”
“You…” I swallowed. “You were pretty angry, so you might have misheard…”
“Lies,” he said again softly.
My face went hot.
It wasn’t that I was embarrassed about liking what I liked or that I purposely kept it a secret. I didn’t. I just… rarely shared much about myself. Rarely felt close enough to anyone to share. Hell, Reed had known me a lot longer than Delaney had, and he didn’t have a clue.
“I sort of wondered,” he continued, “if it was a hallucination brought on by smoke inhalation, but your face right now confirms it.”
I ran a hand over my face like I could rearrange whatever he saw there. “Great.”
Delaney’s answering laughter was warm, not mocking. He shifted his body so that instead of facing the fire, he was now facing me. The movement made his knee brush against my thigh. The contact, small as it was, sent electricity up my leg. “Okay, I have a distraction idea. Ready?”
I shot him a look. He was smiling, his posture relaxed, and I wondered for a second if that strange inverse effect worked both ways—like the more off-balance I was, the more he chilled out.
“Ready for what?” I demanded. “I’m not singing for you, so get that idea right out of your head.”
“Not that.” His smile widened. “I think we should play a game. My very first editor used to say that you can get to know anyone by asking them five good questions. So let’s test the theory. Answer honestly and fully, or…” He shook his glass slightly. “Drink.”
“A drinking game?” The idea felt… dangerous. Though, honestly, any damn thing that kept Delaney in proximity felt dangerous at the moment.
Which was, as a voice in my head that sounded like Hayes and Kel mashed together pointed out, just another form of deflection.
“Or,” Delaney said, smile fading, “I guess we should probably talk about the renovation, huh?” He darted a glance toward the darkened kitchen, where the red cabinet monstrosities were hanging.
“No,” I said quickly. The only thing worse than thinking about kissing Delaney was arguing with him, which was how we’d inevitably end up. “I declare a renovation ceasefire for the rest of the night. Let’s…” I blew out a breath. “Let’s play your drinking game. But I’ll go first.”
Delaney waved a hand like he couldn’t care less. “G’head.” But I noticed a distinct tension in him that said he wasn’t as cool about it as he wanted to appear.
All the questions I wanted answered swirled in my head— Why are you so defensive all the time? Why are you so pigheaded? Have you thought about kissing me before now? Do you want to kiss me again?— but of course, I wouldn’t ask any of those.
What finally popped out surprised us both. “Where’s the best place you ever traveled?”
Delaney’s eyes lit up as he considered my question, like I’d handed him an unexpected gift.
“Oh, Peru,” he said with zero hesitation. “A tiny, tiny village called Huacahuasi in the Andes. I went there for a story about illegal logging, and I ended up staying for almost three weeks.”
“ You? Lived in a remote mountain village for three weeks?”
I couldn’t picture it. As far as I knew, they didn’t do silky pajamas or sticky notes on Tupperware there.
“To be fair, it was supposed to be three days , but shit happened. As usual.” He rolled his eyes. “Got to Lima fine. Met the guide I’d arranged to take me into the mountains. But his truck broke down two hours’ hike from the village. No cell service, so he hiked me up to the village, told me he’d be back as soon as he could, then hiked back down the mountain to see about his truck. The first day, I fell in an irrigation ditch and broke my glasses?—”
“Holy shit, Delaney. Seriously?”
He scowled. “Yes, seriously. This is my job, Brewer. I do whatever I have to do to get the job done.”
“No, I know. I—” I shook my head. I didn’t know how to explain that I was both impressed against my will and weirdly, retroactively protective. The thought of him alone and vulnerable made something fierce stir in my chest, not because I didn’t think he could handle it—obviously, he had—but that he’d had to. “Sorry, continue. Still waiting to hear how this becomes your favorite place.”
“Because it was beautiful, once I got over that first hiccup and let myself notice. Mountains rising up all around, mist rolling through in the morning. Green, green, green everywhere. And the people there were amazing. They fixed my glasses, found me a place to sleep, gave me info for my story…” His face took on an abstracted look. “Every night, the village would gather after dinner, and the adults would talk as the kids ran around. I didn’t speak the local language, but most people spoke some Spanish, and I can smile and nod with the best of them.” His smile was soft and… something else that I didn’t fully understand. Wistful, maybe? “It was nice. For a little while.”
“Wow,” I said inadequately.
When his eyes focused on me again, he looked faintly embarrassed. “Don’t get me wrong, I practically wept with joy when the guide came back and took me to a hotel with hot water and electricity and cell signal. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I echoed. I sipped my wine, still trying to parse that soft smile.
“Now.” Delaney’s smile took on a distinct edge. “My turn.”
I knew exactly where this was going. “Yes, fine, I was singing ‘Defying Gravity.’ It’s my favorite song from my favorite musical.” I paused and considered. “One of my favorites.”
“ One of?” His eyes widened. “You’re a closet musical theater junkie? Have you always been?”
“Not closeted,” I said firmly. “About anything. Not talking about things isn’t the same as keeping a secret.”
Delaney gave me a speculative look. “Isn’t it?”
“No. And no, I wasn’t always into it, but I dated a guy who thought I needed more culture in my life. He took me to see Phantom .” I shrugged. “Turned out I liked the culture better than the guy.”
Delaney’s eyes, shiny with alcohol and excitement, narrowed. “Best Hamilton song?”
“Huh?”
“It’s a simple question, Brewer.” He pushed his glasses up his nose and said loftily, “If you really are a musical theater junkie.”
Once again, startled laughter escaped me. “Uh. I don’t know if I have one. ‘Quiet Uptown,’ I guess?—”
“Hmm. Wrong . I mean, technically, it’s an opinion question.” He grinned. “But the correct answer is ‘Wait for It.’ If you’re a true fan.”
“Ah.” I nodded soberly. “Noted. Thank you for correcting me. So, what’s your favorite musical, then, true fan?”
“Pfft.” He waved a hand with tipsy carelessness, and his fingers brushed my arm. “ Hadestown .”
This was such a random conversation. There was no reason my heart should be racing. No reason why I’d moved so close to Delaney that even in the low light, I could count the freckles dusting his nose, could see the faint stubble on his jaw, could almost taste the wine on his breath.
“Original cast of Hadestown or current?” I demanded.
Delaney’s eyes lit. “Eva Noblezada was Eurydice, so.” He folded his arms across his chest, as though daring me to argue, but his grin was downright infectious. “Why Wicked ?”
“Because… because I like that Elphaba figures out who she was supposed to be all along, I guess? And also because Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero in the movie is a fucking wet dream.”
The minute the words were out, I realized I should not have been talking about wet dreams with Delaney.
Not ever, but especially not now, when we were sitting so close together, cocooned by the snow and the firelight, trying so hard to not-think.
I sat upright and pretended to check on Teeny, who was fast asleep. “So, did I pass?”
“You… yes. You did.” Delaney stared down at his glass for a long moment. “You’re full of surprises, Brewer.”
I could say the same about him, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.
This teasing, intimate version of Delaney wasn’t new, exactly, but I’d only ever caught glimpses of it before. Seeing it now made it even harder to remember why I was not-thinking.
“So… next question? Or do our musical questions count? I figure you’ve got a complex system of rules you haven’t fully informed me of yet,” I teased.
He shoved my knee. “Shut up,” he said without heat. “Yes, fine. Ask your second question.”
“Why’d you move to Copper County?” I asked. “For Tam and the baby, I know. But that’s a big change to make for your niece.”
Delaney’s head snapped up, and he glared at me, twice as hot as the fire. “Hold up, we’re getting personal now?”
“Weren’t we before?” I shot back.
“I mean… no? You were supposed to ask my favorite author or ice cream flavor, and I’d tell you Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Coffee Coffee Buzz Buzz!” He slammed back a gulp of wine. “Fuck’s sake, Brewer.”
“Explain the rules beforehand, Delaney,” I mocked. “Or suffer the consequences.”
But when Delaney ran a frustrated hand through his hair, the movement caused the too-big sweatshirt to slip down over his collarbone, and that sliver of skin became the whole focus of my consciousness… which felt a whole lot like me suffering the consequences.
“I guess…” Delaney licked his lips. “Can we blame it on an early midlife crisis?”
“Full and honest or drink,” I reminded him.
He gave me a glare that wasn’t nearly as searing as usual, either because the wine made it hard to focus or because he didn’t seem to notice that his glasses had slid down his nose again and he literally couldn’t see me. The urge to reach out and push them back up for him was almost overwhelming.
So fucking cute .
“That is an honest answer,” he argued. “But if you need the full version…” He sighed. “You know how I visited Tam last fall when she was on bed rest?”
I nodded. Everyone in Copper County knew about Tam’s pregnancy complications and that all of her brothers had come, at one point or another, to check on her. Delaney was the only one who’d stayed.
His fingers toyed with the hem of his shorts. “So, we were sitting in her sunroom one day. A bunch of people had come over to bring her baked goods, and I was stuffing my face. Tam was sprawled on her chaise, laughing her ass off at something—probably me. Then she stopped laughing suddenly and looked at me and said, ‘Delaney, you need to promise you’ll visit more when the baby’s here. I want my daughter to know her uncle. Fuck, I wish you assholes lived closer.’ Meaning me and our brothers, you know?”
Delaney darted a glance at me like he wasn’t sure I was still paying attention.
As though I could possibly pay attention to anything else.
“Yeah. I got that,” I said roughly.
“Anyway, I don’t know what came over me—this is the early midlife crisis part—but we both got all emotional and sappy after that.” He pulled the sweatshirt cuffs over his fingers. “Tam can at least blame the pregnancy hormones, but I have no excuse. I remember thinking how pretty and colorful the trees by the lake were, and how the air smelled like woodsmoke, and how fucking delicious the muffins I was eating were. And next thing I know, I opened my stupid mouth and said, ‘I’ll move here!’” He rolled his eyes. “Like an idiot.”
“I don’t think that’s idiotic,” I said. “I think it’s sweet.”
It was also surprising. God knew I was no stranger to impulsive decisions—after the dustup with my father, I’d walked away from my job at my grandfather’s company with no plan whatsoever—but impulsive wasn’t on my top ten words to describe Delaney.
“Sweet,” Delaney scoffed, “is generally a euphemism for idiotic. Did I consider logistics of traveling for work or whether I’d even like this place permanently?” He shook his head. “I made the least logical decision ever ’cause I was all up in my feels.” He shot me a look and muttered, his voice so low I almost missed it, “Not the only time I’ve done that.”
I wondered if he was talking about the kiss, or the camper fire, or something else entirely. Maybe impulsive should be in my top ten Delaney words.
But to me, the decision to stay here didn’t seem illogical. Especially not after hearing the Peru story and seeing how his face had softened when he spoke of the community there and their little rituals. The realization that Delaney Monroe—prickly, perfectionist Delaney—might be lonelier than he let on made something in my chest ache.
“Maybe you wanted connection,” I suggested. “Community.”
Delaney wrinkled his nose, then shook his head. “Nah. Doesn’t sound like me.”
I pressed my lips together to hold back my grin, but I was pretty sure I couldn’t hide the warmth in my eyes. “Do you regret it?”
Though it was hard to tell in the dim light, I’d swear he blushed. His eyes held mine for a beat too long, and the air between us thickened.
“I…” He looked away. “I don’t know. Ask me again after the renovation is done,” he said with some of his usual asperity.
Delaney set down his wine and stretched his arms high, like he was loosening his muscles, the movement causing my sweatshirt to ride up his thighs. Then he relaxed and fixed me with a steady look. “My turn.” He rubbed his hands together. “What to ask, what to ask…”
“Fuck,” I muttered. Just to throw him off, I said, “I knew I was gay when I was thirteen. I don’t know how many guys I’ve slept with—not because there’s a lot, just because I don’t keep count. My mom died seven years ago. My hero was my grandfather, who taught me all about building and carpentry. I’m not close with my family, except my cousin Hayes, who’s like an annoying little brother. I didn’t go to college. I have a teacup collection, which was actually my grandmother’s that I inherited, but I guess they’re mine now, so… whatever. Hawaii is the best place I ever traveled. And you already know about the musicals.” I dusted my hands together. “There. Now, go ahead and ask me about authors and ice cream.”
Delaney laughed out loud. “Oh my God. You’re adorable.”
“Me?” I blinked. “That’s a new one.”
“Is it?” He bit his lip and directed an incredibly distracting look at my chest. “Maybe you only let the adorable show when you’re drunk and the power’s out.”
I swallowed hard. I was pretty sure it had more to do with him than the alcohol or the electricity.
Before I could think up an easy response, Delaney spoke again.
“Tell me about her .” He nodded toward Teeny. “Specifically, why’d you acquire a dog the size of a small horse when you lived in a camper and why’d you saddle her with such a lame name? I mean, seriously, Teeny? ’Cause she’s enormous? You couldn’t at least go for, like, Biggie Smalls or something?”
I felt the smile spreading across my face. Whether he knew it or not—and I was pretty sure he did, which meant I owed him one—he’d given me an easy out. A gimme.
I shifted my position, stretching my legs out and leaning my weight on one arm, which brought me close enough that our shoulders touched. Delaney didn’t move away.
“I didn’t acquire her on purpose. I was doing a kitchen renovation for an elderly couple, the Harrisons, a few years ago. They’d gotten her when she was first weaned and named her Queenie.”
From her spot by the fire, Teeny recognized her name, lifted her head, and looked around sleepily.
Delaney didn’t move or flinch, except to clench his fingers around his bent knees. I lifted my own hand to reach out and take his?—
You were doing so well, Brewer .
—but stopped myself at the last minute.
“The Harrisons weren’t able to take care of her properly. By the time I met them, her fur was all matted, and she was underweight?—”
“Wait.” Delaney’s brow furrowed. “They neglected her?”
“No. Not intentionally. They loved her. But I think they didn’t know what they were in for, having a Newfoundland. Mr. Harrison had Parkinson’s, and Mrs. Harrison couldn’t handle walking or grooming a big dog, especially not a giant, excitable puppy. I found out pretty quickly they were renovating because they were planning to sell the house and move to an assisted-living place?—”
“Ugh.” He stared at the dog, who’d gone back to sleep. “I know it’s not their fault, but it wasn’t hers either. And that was her home, too!”
Delaney might not like my dog, but he seemed ready to fight for her. And to make sure she got Kitchen-Couriered dog biscuits while he did it.
My stomach twisted and flipped, sending more alcohol sloshing through my system, and I had to take a deep breath before I could continue.
“It, ah, it worked out okay. For both of us. Teeny needed more than they could provide, and…” I hesitated, the alcohol making me more honest than I might have been otherwise, “well, I needed a best friend, I guess.”
Delaney’s expression softened. “So you say. But best friends don’t take away a noble name like Queenie—a name that evokes both Beyoncé and Freddie Mercury?—”
I did reach out then, because I couldn’t help it, and gently pinched Delaney’s lips closed. His eyes widened, and his breath caught.
“D’you want the full and honest answer or not?” I demanded softly.
He nodded once.
I removed my hand, but not before my thumb traced the curve of his bottom lip. His skin was impossibly soft, and the small contact sent heat coursing through me.
I tangled my fingers in my own shirt before I could remember all the other things I could do with them and continued. “The very first thing I did was bring her to a groomer, who had to shave her in a few spots to get rid of the mats. Mats hurt,” I explained. “So it needed to be done. But it was a rough morning for the girl.” I directed my gaze to Teeny. “When they were done and brought me back to see her, she was curled up on a pile of blankets, shivering and shorn. And she made the most forlorn sound. Like she was crying?—”
“Oh, don’t.” Delaney pressed a hand to his throat, his eyes large and liquid. “I can’t take it.”
“And all I could think was that life had done her wrong. So I got her out to the car, and I turned on my usual playlist, and what do you think was the first song that came on?” I hummed a few bars of “I Dreamed a Dream.”
Delaney stared at me blankly for a moment, like the wine was making his brain buffer. Then suddenly, his jaw dropped. “You named your dog… this dog… after Fantine from Les Mis .”
“Yep. And called her Teeny ’cause it’s close to Queenie, and I didn’t want her to be confused.” I smiled smugly. “Still think it’s a terrible name?”
Delaney burst into laughter—the kind of laughter that consumed his whole body and bled the tension from his shoulders. The kind I couldn’t help joining in on.
He leaned forward, one hand landing on my thigh to steady himself. “If you gave me,” he said, wiping his eyes, “one hundred guesses, I would never have guessed that, but it’s so, so perfect.” He grinned at Teeny. “For both of you.”
Delaney’s smile was a beautiful thing. So beautiful I wanted to kiss him again.
But that wasn’t what this game was about.
This was about… about…
Fuck, I couldn’t remember anymore. Not with his hand on my leg and the alcohol making my thoughts move like molasses.
I stopped laughing, gulped my drink, and said quickly, “My turn. Why don’t you like Teeny?”
Delaney’s entire body stiffened in an instant. His hand jerked away from my thigh, and he gave me a look of reproach, probably for killing the lighthearted mood. “I don’t dislike her. Jesus. It’s not personal .”
He blew out a breath, seeming to consciously relax himself. “I’m cautious around dogs, that’s all. We had a dog when I was a kid. A golden named Gretzky.” He cut his eyes to me. “Named for the hockey player.”
“Right,” I agreed. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected him to say, but it wasn’t this.
“It’s a silly story, actually. With no real explanation. I was just reading in the backyard when I was… ten, maybe? Sometime after my mom died. And Gretzky… He bit me.” The last words sounded as sad and betrayed as if all the intervening years hadn’t happened.
Delaney rubbed his arm absently, and when he spoke again, he sounded clinical, almost detached. “I guess that just happens sometimes. And it wasn’t serious. Four puncture marks. But there was a lot of blood, and the babysitter freaked out and called an ambulance, and afterward…” His eyelashes fluttered. “Like I said, I became cautious.”
Delaney made it sound like it was a deep, dark confession, not a normal reaction to a traumatic incident.
I reached over and gently touched his arm where he’d been rubbing, the spot where I imagined faint scars might be. “Of course you were scared. Anyone would be,” I said.
Delaney’s eyes locked on my hand, then lifted to meet mine. Something passed between us before he quickly looked away.
He shook his head. “I don’t know about that. And the, ah… the caution got worse over time instead of better. My brothers would corner me on the sofa and do supervised cuddles with the dog to remind me I didn’t need to be scared, but that made it worse. I started having nightmares. And I just kept thinking that I didn’t know why I’d made him bite me the first time, so I didn’t know how to… how to avoid a repeat. You know? How to trust that I wouldn’t get bitten again.”
My fingers tightened around his arm protectively. My other hand clenched into a fist. “Didn’t anyone realize you needed to see a therapist?” I nearly growled. “Fuck, Delaney?—”
“My mom was a therapist, actually. If she’d been alive…” He shrugged. “Anyway, my dad was way more pragmatic. He sent Gretzky to live with his sister in Vermont. No dog, no problem.”
I felt those words like a sock to the gut. “Except it doesn’t work like that.”
“Well… to be fair, it’s rarely been an issue. I mostly avoid dogs, and everything’s fine. Except, you know, recently. But I’m going to work on it.” He turned his head to look at me. “Really. It’s not her fault.” He tilted his chin toward Teeny.
“No,” I agreed, “but you don’t need to rush it.” I realized my hand was still on his arm and reluctantly withdrew it. “I wish I’d known—I wish I’d asked —about this before now. That’s on me?—”
“It’s not?—”
“I’ll make sure to lock the kitchen door from now on so she can’t get in here. Or we can go and stay with my cousin?—”
“Brewer,” Delaney interrupted. He looked almost angry. “I said I’m going to work on it.”
“Yeah, but?—”
“I didn’t ask you to move out, and I didn’t ask you to keep the door locked.” He forced out a breath. “I can handle it, okay? I’m a capable person.”
I raised my hands in surrender, shifting back slightly to look at him. I had no idea how the mood had shifted so thoroughly, so quickly.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t.” Delaney was one of the most capable people I’d ever met… except when it came to relocating power outlets. “I just?—”
“I do not need you and your large muscles protecting me from your dog or my stupid cabinet choices or… or anything.”
My eyes widened. “Whoa. Back up. My large—?” I glanced down at myself, then back to him. I shook my head trying to stay focused, though that was nearly impossible since I wasn’t sure what was happening here. “I thought we weren’t talking about the cabinets.”
He blew out a breath. “Yes. We are. I’m hereby ending the renovation ceasefire.”
“Delaney—”
“Look, I know your feelings on those cabinets, okay? You made it pretty clear when you canceled the order without even discussing it with me?—”
“Because I knew you had your heart set on those, but I wanted to show you I could do something custom that you might like just as much, and then?—”
“And then I insisted on these because there was no way my bossy contractor could possibly know better than me?—”
“I wasn’t being bossy,” I interrupted. “Or… shit, if I was, I didn’t mean to be. I was doing my job, trying to make your style work with the house, and?—”
“I know. I know ,” Delaney said. “It’s like with the damn dog. I just don’t know how to trust that—” He broke off and shook his head.
“I guess I should have explained better,” I admitted. “And not expected you to… what’d you call it? Fling trust around like Mardi Gras beads?” I took a deep breath.
“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is?—”
“—I’m sorry,” we said together.
We stared at each other in surprise.
“You are?” I demanded. “Why?”
“For insisting on these cabinets and being dead wrong? I appreciate you trying, but they look awful, Brewer,” Delaney said in a small voice. “Just like you said they would.”
“You… you hate them?” I said, scared to hope that we might have gotten on the same page finally.
He glared up at me from beneath his lashes. “You sound way too fucking cheerful about that.”
I laughed. “I’m not! I… fuck. Maybe I am, kind of,” I said. “I thought you were going to insist, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I’m relieved.”
“Insist? After seeing that?” Delaney shook his head. “I can’t do it, even though I’ve exploded my own budget and my timeline.”
“Well…” I frowned. “I can’t do anything with the upper cabinets that I already hung. But Hen might be able to help us return the base cabinets and get your money back. And I can still make you custom ones, if you want. It might take a little longer, but I’ll show you the designs and the materials. I’ll make sure you like them.”
He nodded tightly. “I… I would appreciate that.”
I felt a smile spread across my face. I was relieved about the cabinets, yes, but this felt bigger than that.
“You won’t regret it,” I told him.
Delaney huffed out a laugh. “Unlike those?” He jerked a thumb toward the kitchen. “I don’t even want to fucking look at them again. They’re like… they’re like the scarlet letter of cabinets. A giant red A for Asshole.”
I snort-laughed, and a moment later, so did he.
“God, I wish we could rip them out right now,” he confessed. “Just so I don’t have to look at them again.”
I stopped laughing abruptly as an idea formed, an idea that would distract me from my… distraction and hopefully help Delaney work out his frustration. I pushed to my feet and held out a hand. “Come with me.”
“What?” He looked up at me in confusion, but after a moment’s hesitation, he grasped my hand and let me pull him to his feet.
We stood there for a heartbeat, nearly chest to chest. Then I stepped back, still holding his hand, and led him toward the kitchen.
The room was shadowy and dark, illuminated only by the glow from my phone’s flashlight. Delaney’s shoulder pressed against mine as we surveyed the red monstrosities hanging on the wall.
“Wait here,” I said. I jogged out to the garage, the cold air a brief shock against my heated skin, and returned moments later with a sledgehammer, two pairs of safety goggles, and a battery-powered work light that cast the kitchen in a stark, dramatic glow.
“Holy shit. You’re going to rip them out now?” Delaney’s eyes were wide, a mixture of shock and something that looked like excitement on his face. “ Right now?”
“No. Of course not.” I moved behind him, close enough that my chest pressed against his back, and put the safety goggles on over his glasses, securing the elastic around the back of his head. Then I took his hand in mine and wrapped his fingers around the wooden handle.
I leaned down and spoke directly in his ear, my lips nearly brushing his skin. “You are.”
I felt him move against me, his breath catching audibly. His head turned, bringing our faces so close I could feel the heat radiating from his skin.
“Me and tools…” He bit his lip. “Remember what happened last time? This… this is probably a terrible idea.”
“Maybe,” I agreed, my voice low and rough. “Or maybe you should stop thinking about all the last times and concentrate on this time.” I moved my hands to rest lightly on his hips. “Because I guarantee it’ll feel phenomenal. Trust me, Delaney.”
Delaney laughed, a breathless sound that sent heat racing through me. “Fuck it,” he whispered, eyes gleaming. “Okay.”