Chapter 12
brEWER
Two days after the storm, I still couldn’t get the taste of Delaney Monroe out of my mouth.
I ran my palm over the smooth poplar board I’d been sanding for his kitchen cabinets, checking for imperfections. Like the knots in the wood, my thoughts kept circling back to the same spot no matter how much I tried to smooth them away—Delaney on his knees in front of me, his glasses askew and his blue eyes looking up, determined and hungry.
Christ .
I adjusted myself in my jeans and focused on the cabinet design I’d sketched out with Delaney’s input—one that would blend the industrial feel he wanted with the home’s traditional character. Reclaimed metal hardware he’d sourced on the warm wood I’d suggested, with glass panels on the upper cabinets to make the space look light and airy. His style, my craftsmanship. Nothing either of us could have come up with on our own.
The normalcy of the work was grounding. Simple. Unlike the shit my brain wanted to stew over, like the way Delaney’s hands had moved over my body, and the way he’d said my name when he came, and how badly I wanted to do it all again.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.
After I’d gotten back from Watt’s yesterday, things with Delaney had been… awkward. I’d wanted to get back to some level of normalcy, which meant no casual touching. No lingering looks. Instead, with the exception of working on the cabinets or the day-to-day business of living together, we’d tiptoed around each other literally and figuratively, careful with our movements and even more careful with our words… which was the opposite of normal for Delaney and me.
When I thought about it—which I’d done pretty much from the moment Delaney had fled to Tam’s house for dinner—he and I had never had an easygoing, polite relationship.
Delaney had a million opinions and would argue passionately about each and every one. I didn’t usually have opinions to volunteer, and even when I did, it was rare that I let myself care enough to fight over them. But it was different with Delaney.
He was so damn determined not to compromise who he was or what he wanted, he might as well have the words “Take Me As I Am, Bitches” tattooed on his forehead. And yeah, that meant our conversations were often heated. But seeing him be so open and honest made me want to speak up more. To figure out my own opinions and express them. To care about things enough to fight about them… and for them. To be known… at least by Delaney.
But all the reasons I’d given Delaney for why it was a terrible idea for us to take things further were still there. His job. My job. Our very different lives?—
KAK-WEEEE!
The doorbell rang for the fourth fucking time that morning, jarring me from my thoughts.
And for the fourth time, I reminded myself that I’d agreed to this… sort of.
When Delaney mentioned yesterday that he planned to share our find with Janice, I’d known what would happen—the news would travel around Copper County at twice the speed of sound, and the entire town would need to see “Delaney’s jam cupboard paintings” for themselves. But seeing Delaney so excited, I hadn’t protested.
Now, it wasn’t even noon, and we—well, Delaney —had already had six visitors today alone.
From the living room, I heard Delaney’s voice bright with enthusiasm as he explained the composition of one of the lake paintings to whoever had arrived. The sound of him happy like that did something to my chest that I didn’t want to examine too closely.
I turned back to my work, only to hear approaching footsteps.
“And this is where we found them!” Delaney’s voice grew louder as he led whoever-it-was toward the kitchen. “In a vintage jam cupboard that’s been hidden in the wall for decades! Can you believe it?”
I glanced up to see Delaney’s sister holding Tierney against her chest. Her eyes darted between me and her brother with obvious interest.
“Hey, Brewer,” she said with a knowing smile. “I heard you and Delaney made some… amazing discoveries the other night.”
Clearly, Tam had gone to the Watt Bartlett School of Double Entendres.
“Tam. Good to see you.” I glanced at the baby. “And Tierney. She’s growing fast, huh?”
“Like a weed,” Tam agreed. “So… any idea who E. Winters might be?”
“Not me,” I answered, “but I’m sure someone will. And since half the town’s come by to see the paintings?—”
“Not that many,” Delaney protested. “Like, half a dozen.” He paused. “Or possibly a dozen and a half.”
“Delaney told Janice,” Tam said, shaking her head. “He should’ve known better.”
“It was really just members of the Council for Historical Happenings,” Delaney continued. “As well as a few other… key stakeholders.”
“Key stakeholders,” I repeated, fighting a smile. “Like when Constantine Bloom brought his kids by for a field trip yesterday?”
“His children were sweet and respectful,” Delaney argued. “I think it’s commendable that he values education.” He shot Tam a look. “I bet he understands the importance of walking to the development of the newborn brain.”
“And when Janice brought Angela Ross to see them this morning, was that educational, too?” I wondered, unable to keep from teasing him.
“No.” Delaney lifted his chin haughtily. “If you must know, that visit wasn’t about the paintings at all. Angela came to renew her invitation for me to join her book club.” He considered, then added, “And then she saw the paintings.”
“Her book club,” Tam repeated. “I thought you told her you didn’t have time the first time she asked.”
“I… I did,” he admitted. “Who wants to read because they have to when there are too few hours in the day to read what you want to? But Janice happened to see the book I’d left open on my tablet when she was here earlier, and it turns out that’s the exact book they’re reading this month, so…” He shrugged. “I said I’d swing by the Books n’ More next Wednesday.”
“Oooh,” Tam said eagerly. She did an unconscious little bounce-and-swing move that was putting the baby to sleep. “What’s the book? Maybe I’ve read it, too! I’ve been thinking I need to get out more. Postpartum life, you know?”
“Oh. Um.” Delaney cleared his throat and looked away, but I’d swear he was blushing. “I don’t think you’ve read this one, Tam.”
Tam’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”
“I just… I don’t think…”
“If you enjoyed it, why wouldn’t I enjoy it?” she demanded in a whisper, probably out of deference to her sleeping daughter. “I do have brain cells. And I know you think you’re the only intellectual in the family?—”
Delaney whirled around in shock. “What? No, I don’t.”
“—but I do read from time to time. Actual books, with no pictures in them. And I do have a shiny college degree I got all on my own.”
“I know!”
“And just because I know how to play hockey and light a fire in your fireplace, that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy reading and discussing literature, just like you being a smarty-pants, big-deal, traveling journalist doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy sledgehammering the fuck out of your kitchen ,” she finished in a whisper-yell. “Tell him, Brewer.”
Eyes wide, I lifted my hands. “Whoa,” I said. “I don’t think?—”
Delaney looked from me to her, then ran a frustrated hand over his head. “This is like me not understanding you guys being so overprotective, isn’t it?” He tugged the hair at his crown. “Tam, I know how smart you are. If anything, I’m jealous of you and how good you are at freaking everything . At how easily people take to you.” He put a cautious hand on her arm and gave her a teasing smile. “It’s tough being ‘Tam Monroe’s brother, the one who doesn’t play hockey.’”
“Probably about as tough as it is being Delaney Monroe’s jock sister,” she challenged, raising an eyebrow. But then she shook her head. “Don’t mind me, Laney. I’m worried because Law seems unhappy with his new team, and I’m literally fizzing with postpartum hormones, and… as much as I adore my daughter, I’m bored as fuck, being stuck at home, mostly alone, thanks to the weather.” She sniffed. “So… what’s the book?”
Delaney pressed his lips together. His cheeks turned red, and he darted an almost guilty look at me. Then he mumbled, “Timdbythekurkinwrlrd.”
Tam and I exchanged a glance. I shrugged.
“Could you repeat—” Tam began.
Delaney blew out a breath. “I said, Tamed by the Kraken Warlord . Okay? It’s a profound emotional journey about a headstrong young man who accidentally finds himself imprisoned on a planet ruled by Krakenpeople. It’s a metaphor for our society, Tamsen, illuminating the challenges of?—”
“Oh, Laney.” Tam’s eyes danced. “Does the young man have sex with the kraken warlord?”
Though his cheeks were still pink, Delaney raised his chin once again. “Irrelevant. You can’t dismiss a book simply because?—”
KAK-WEEEE!
Delaney’s ridiculous doorbell sounded again, making me and Tam jump and Tierney start to fuss.
“Delaney, what is that sound?” Tam demanded. “It sounds like someone’s strangling a muppet.”
“I was thinking deranged cuckoo ,” Delaney said. “But I dunno. It’s kind of growing on me.”
“If you could keep the parade of visitors out of the kitchen while I’m sanding, that’d be helpful,” I called, only half-serious, as he headed for the front hall.
Delaney turned in the doorway. Our eyes met, and for a moment, I was back on the living room floor, his body under mine, his plaster handprints all over me.
“Okay.” His voice was rough, like he’d gotten caught in the same memory. “Yeah.”
The doorbell rang again, and Delaney turned back to answer it.
“Well,” Tam said, inspecting the cabinet sketches I’d taped to the wall. “I’m glad to see you and my brother are getting along better.”
“Of course.” I shrugged, feeling my face heat. “We had some differences of opinion in the beginning, but I think we’ve realized we’re on the same side now.”
She laughed. “That’s huge. Delaney’s the most stubborn person I know, but that means he’s also the most loyal. If Delaney’s on your side?—”
She broke off as a man’s voice came floating down the hall.
“This is just like Season 2, Episode 9 of John Ruffian: Pretender !” Chris Sunday said excitedly. “You know the one where John pretends to be an art authenticator to expose a gallery owner who’s selling forgeries, only to discover the cache of real paintings in the secret compartment behind the bookcase?”
“Chris… I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Delaney said. “I’ve never seen John Ruffian .”
Tam snickered. “Oh, he’s in for it now,” she said under her breath.
“Ohmigosh, Delaney! Okay, as soon as I set down this tray, I’m emailing you an episode order because if you watch the episodes chronologically, you’ll miss the—oh!” Chris paused in the hallway, a small platter in his hands. When he caught sight of me and Tam, he grinned brightly. “Hey, guys!” He glanced down at Tierney, who was blinking sleepy blue eyes, and his whole face softened. “Hey, sweet girl.”
“Hey, Chris,” Tam said warmly. “You wanna hold her for a bit?”
“Heck yes!” He glanced down at the platter and then looked around at the utter lack of flat surfaces on which to set it. “Er… trade you?”
“Is that one of your winter charcuteries with the honeycomb?” Tam demanded. “Because if so, that’s a fair trade.”
Chris laughed. He handed Delaney the plate, practically ran to the bathroom to wash his hands, then took the baby and settled her against his chest with a murmured “Theeere we go, sweet potato. You’re okay.”
Delaney and I exchanged an amused glance… then he bit his lip and looked away.
“The, um… the paintings are in the living room,” Delaney said. “If you wanted to look.”
“I do! But… I’m really interested in the jam cupboard, to be honest.” Chris pushed up his glasses, which were a little larger than Delaney’s. He peered into the opening Delaney and I had created and took a deep breath. “Oh, man! It smells like cedar and lavender from a hundred years ago, doesn’t it?”
“I thought the same thing,” Delaney agreed.
“Reed and I haven’t found anything this cool during our renovation yet. But maybe you’ll be our lucky charm when you do the kitchen, huh, Brewer?” He turned his guileless blue eyes on me. “Still thinking you can get started in a few weeks?”
“Around that,” I agreed easily, though the reminder that this project would be over soon made me uneasy.
I’d be moving out, even if it meant renting a place for a while since I wouldn’t stay here once the renovation was done.
Would I be glad I’d dodged a complication bullet? Or would I regret the missed opportunity?
Or would I bite the bullet and try something reckless and ill-advised, like asking the man out?
“I’ll be able to give you a more exact date once I get these cabinets done,” I told Chris, nodding at the boards I’d been sanding.
Delaney gave me a guilty look. “We should probably get out of the kitchen and let Brewer get back to work,” he told Chris and Tam, making me wish I hadn’t complained earlier.
They filed into the living room, but even after they were gone, my attention kept drifting back to them. To Chris, who was crooning at the baby. To Tam eating honeycomb and teasing him about being a baby whisperer. But mostly, as usual, to Delaney, who sounded more relaxed and happy than I’d ever heard him.
Being alone had been my happiest state for so long it was strange to find myself wishing I was in the other room with them.
By four o’clock, the stream of visitors had dried up, and everyone had left. Despite the interruptions, I’d made good progress on the cabinets, and just before retreating to his office for a call with his editor, Delaney had promised no more “tours” until tomorrow. So I was surprised when the doorbell rang again, startling me just as I was putting away my tools.
Since I could still hear Delaney talking, I answered the door myself.
“Brewer, my dude!” Kel wore his Kitchen Couriers hat with a lime-green parka, a pair of sandals over thick socks, and a bright grin. “How’s one half of the Dynamic Duo of Demolition?” He added in a conspiratorial tone, “That’s what me and Hayes decided to call you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Kel, if you’re here to see the paintings?—”
“Nah, man. Janice said Delaney put out the word. No more coming by and interrupting you ’cause you need to finish your job quick,” he recited. “So I’m here in a strictly professional capacity.” He picked up an enormous white Courier bag he’d set by his feet and extended it with a flourish. “Burger Barn order for Delaney.”
“Oh.” I frowned. It wasn’t a surprise that Delaney had ordered dinner, but usually, he asked if I wanted anything. Then again, I imagined he was done with socializing for the day… and possibly done with me .
“I’ll give it to him,” I said, taking the bag.
“Kel?” Delaney emerged from his office wearing a pair of soft cotton pants and a V-neck sweater, his glasses askew like he’d been toying with them. “Hey. You’re early. I thought I scheduled you for five.”
“Tryna keep my best tipper happy.” Kel grinned. “Especially when he’s the guy who got our service area extended.”
“You’re… pleased about that?” Delaney demanded.
“Shit, yeah. Doubled my tips. And our manager read one of your letters out loud at our last staff meeting. He said it was the most passionate plea for food delivery he’s ever seen.” He lowered his voice and added, “I cried.”
Delaney looked embarrassed. “Well. That’s… good. I guess.” He looked at the bag in my hand. “Everything in there?”
Kel’s chest puffed up. “Dude. I don’t make mistakes.” He winked again. “If you get the urge to pound anything tonight to see if you can find any more, ah, hidden treasures… remember safety first.”
“Bye, Kel,” I said, swinging the door closed, but not before we heard Kel chuckle as he walked away.
Once he was gone, Delaney and I stared at each other for a beat too long. He looked good—really good, even better than usual. More mouthwatering than whatever was in the delivery bag.
Belatedly, I held the bag out to him. “Your dinner. I’m guessing you want to have a quiet night.” I summoned a smile. “I’m done for the day, so I’m gonna grab a shower, walk Teeny, and head to the Bar and Grill so you can have the house to yourself.”
“No, wait.” Delaney’s hand shot out and covered mine on the bag. I had the impression of his smooth fingers against mine for just a second, and then he blushed and snatched his hand back like he’d been burned. “I got food for you, too. It’s not… I mean… You said we were friends, sort of, so I thought…”
“Okay,” I blurted, not letting myself think too much about it.
“But obviously, if you’d rather go out, that’s?—”
“Delaney,” I reminded him softly, as I so often did. “I said okay . Just let me shower and see to Teeny first.”
“You, ah…” He blew out a soft breath and didn’t quite meet my eyes. “You can bring her, too, if you want.”
“Yeah?” Delaney’s “detente” with Teeny had extended to us all sleeping in the living room, but I hadn’t wanted to push the issue, so I’d continued to keep her upstairs for the most part.
“I said I’d work on it.” His eyes met mine. “I keep promises, too.”
My heart rate ticked up, but I forced myself to nod easily. “We’ll be back in a minute, then.”
Teeny’s excitement when I led her into the office a half hour later was off the charts. Unfortunately, so was mine, especially when I saw that Delaney had moved his laptop, cleared off his desk, and set up our takeout containers like a little picnic. He’d even fetched us soda from the fridge in the laundry room.
“Sit,” I told Teeny, pointing to a spot by Delaney’s visitor chair.
Delaney pointed to a white paper bag on the desk. “Looks like they misdelivered me dog biscuits again,” he said with a put-upon sigh. “Not sure how that keeps happening. But since they’re here, you, ah… might as well give them to her, I guess.”
“Misdelivered?” I peered at Delaney over his desk. “But Kel doesn’t make mistakes.”
Delaney opened his mouth, then closed it again, a flush rising up his neck to his cheeks.
“You know what I think?” I went on. “I think you’re secretly in love with my dog, and you’re trying to win her affection with dog biscuits.”
“Yes.” He rubbed his hands on his pants nervously. “You caught me, Brewer. This heart-pounding terror is all an elaborate ruse.”
I shrugged. “I think you can want something and fear it at the same time. Right?”
Delaney’s eyes met mine, and then he looked away. “Right,” he said softly.
I grabbed the bag off the desk and held out a biscuit, not to Teeny but to Delaney. “Go on, then. Give her a treat.”
Delaney blinked at me. “What, like… put my hand close to her mouth?”
I shrugged. “You said you’re working on it. No risk, no reward, right?”
He studied me for a long moment. “Yeah,” he said with a strange intensity to his voice. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He took the biscuit from me with the tips of his fingers. “Teeny? Come here, girl.”
“Gentle,” I warned her since the way she normally ate treats—or anything at all, really—made it seem like she’d never seen food in her entire life.
Teeny approached Delaney slowly, like she had some strange, innate canine sense that she needed to not make any sudden motions. Then she sat with her tail swishing lazily against the area rug beneath Delaney’s desk.
Delaney’s arm shook a bit, and Teeny sniffed the biscuit gingerly, as though she’d never seen one before.