Chapter Eleven – Fawn
The guys decided we’d start the evening at the bar where Delilah works, which does wonders for the butterflies in my stomach. If it gets completely insane, I know she’ll be my safety net. And since I came in my car, if I do decide to have one drink, Delilah can take my keys and drive us home.
Of course, I don’t plan on drinking.
Pink and orange blur the sky as the sun sets. The players are bathed in a golden tint as they loiter around the entrance of the bar, their laughter and voices spilling down the street like they own the whole damn block.
As I make my way to the entrance, a small, orange-y glow catches my attention.
Instinctively, I squint and manage to make out whoever’s standing there.
It’s Torin, leaning against a brick wall in a corner, a cigarette tucked between his fingers, the smoke curling up.
Why is he so mysterious? At this point, he’s got to be doing it on purpose.
I wonder if he just wakes up in the morning and chooses to be like this.
Anyway, I thought hockey players were supposed to be amazingly healthy. But it appears everybody has vices.
Dylan and Cal notice me walking toward the entrance, both wearing devilish grins.
Hell, they better not be up to something; otherwise, I’ll get Delilah on them.
My skin prickles as a breeze catches the hem of my dress. I slap it down, pinning the fabric to my thighs. The last thing I need is the entire hockey team getting an unwanted peep show.
“Here she is,” Cal says, as if he has been waiting ages. They drove like idiots, but I was only four cars behind them.
I pin my lips together, stretching them into a stiff line.
Fortunately, the other players haven’t noticed me. They’re lost in their own banter, conversations, or phones.
“Right!” Dylan hollers, smacking his hands together. “Let’s get this night started!” With a dramatic flourish, he pulls the door open.
Cal rubs his hands and marches inside. One by one, the remaining Wolves follow, the rowdy energy pouring through the entrance into the neon illumination of the bar.
I don’t want to be rude and rush in when I know Torin is still outside; plus, a part of me is trying to delay starting the evening. So, before following behind, I essentially sidestep, my hands automatically smoothing my dress once more. My eyes instinctively track toward the dark corner.
“Yo! I ain’t holding the door all night,” Dylan directs to Torin, who takes one final drag of the cigarette before exhaling the smoke. Then, effortlessly, he flicks the butt, sending it flying.
Ugh, when men flick a cigarette like that? It’s hot. I know it shouldn’t be because it’s an unhealthy habit, but somehow, it has an effect on me.
Torin’s strides are unhurried, as if he has all the time in the world. As he approaches, he nods his chin at Dylan. A quick, silent communication. He passes me, and I catch the faint smell of smoke on him — sort of tough and rugged.
“Oh, I insist. After you,” Dylan teases, his tone smooth as he extends his arm, dramatic, and waves toward the open door like he’s some kind of gentleman.
Yeah, I bet he insists, probably to look at my ass, no doubt. Wait, am I sounding big-headed? Is my ass even that good to look at?
Rolling my shoulders, I take one sharp breath, and walk through the threshold.
Red neon lights flicker above, humming like they’re on their last breath.
The sticky wooden floor provides that old country type of charm.
Regulars sit stooped in their booths, nursing beers and likely hoping the Wolves don’t make that much of a nuisance.
The poor old men probably hoped to have some peace, and now they get to see Frat Night On Ice.
A load of guys are bunched up at the bar.
Delilah’s busy moving around, shaking bottles and serving drinks without so much as looking in my direction — she hasn’t spotted me yet.
Can’t say I blame her; with all the commotion in here, it sounds like a herd of elephants just ran by.
Someone has overridden the TVs and flipped on the jukebox instead.
I perch myself behind Cal, who is frantically trying to get Delilah’s attention. Torin and Dylan stand beside him, which — brilliant — sets me right smack down the middle of the ‘inexperienced author sandwiched between wolves’ formation.
“What are you drinking, Fawn?” Cal asks, still focused on Delilah.
“I’ll get my own drink. Thanks, though.”
“Listen, the first drinks are on me, then Dylan, then Torin. You can get the last round, okay?”
Sounds like a fair deal. But Jesus, four rounds? I’m drunk after two. Luckily, I’m staying sober.
“Fine. Just a Dr Pepper with ice please.”
Cal squints. “Dr Pepper and vodka?”
“No, no,” I manage to shout over the music. “No alcohol.”
Suddenly, Dylan intervenes, placing a hand on Cal’s back. “Hold up. I’m not going to let her pay for beers if she’s not drinking. That’s not fair. Practically robbery.”
That’s a surprise. Honestly, I’m shocked Dylan cares about fairness. I pegged him as the type who’d happily let women line up to buy him beers while he stands there looking pretty.
Cal shrugs and angles further over the bar, snapping his fingers at Delilah like he owns the place. If Delilah catches him, she’s going to flip, and I’m not going to save him.
Dylan moves in closer so I can hear him above the music. A faint ghost touch against my earlobe sends a tremor through me. “Is there a reason you aren’t drinking? Or is that too personal to ask?”
“Well, I’ve still got questions I have to ask. Plus, work and pleasure don’t mix.”
With a mischievous glint in his eye, he prods my arm. “So no pleasure for you tonight then?”
Behind him, Torin rolls his dark eyes so far, I am positive he just saw the back of his own head.
I laugh him off, frivolously shoving him back. “Are you full of cocky remarks?”
“Yup.” Dylan doesn’t miss a beat.
Peering over his shoulder, I see Delilah has finally scoped me, and that customary resting bitch face breaks into a genuine smile, only to instantly revert once she spots Cal snapping at her.
Oh shit, this isn’t going to be good.
Rest in peace, Cal.
She slings a faded rag across her shoulder, marches over, and rests her forearm on the bar. “Hey pretty boy. You snap your fingers at me again, and I’ll break every bone in them. Understand?”
Cal’s mouth opens, but no words flow out. It’s the first time I’ve seen him speechless.
However, Delilah disregards him and focuses her attention on me. And because she knows me so well, she’s already pouring Dr Pepper. “Did you come in with Snappy here?”
A nervous trill slips past my lips. “I’ll explain later. I kinda got roped into it.”
“Alright, but you’re good, yeah?” she asks, sliding my drink toward me, ice clinking.
“I’m cool. Just interviewing these guys.”
She finally directs her attention back to Cal. “Alright, Snappy. Now you’ve been warned. What can I get you?”
Cal stands there, still speechless; he stares at her blinking like she just grew a pair of angel wings.
“Clock’s tickin’, sweetheart.” Delilah taps on an imaginary watch. “You gonna order something or just stand there staring at me till closing time?”
Seizing the opportunity, Dylan intervenes. “Three beers, anything will do, and looks like you’ve already sorted Fawn’s drink.” He nudges Cal without a hint of sympathy. “You’re welcome, lovebird.”
Delilah pours the beers then effortlessly slides them down the bar, and Cal throws some cash on the counter without a word. Then, the four of us head toward an empty booth. Dylan sits beside me, and Torin and Cal slide into the chairs directly in front of us.
“Well, I’m guessing she’s a friend of yours?” Dylan asks, tilting his beer to his lips.
“Yup; she’s a character, but I love her.”
Dylan nods, as if he’s filing that in his brain for later, and then Cal speaks up in a flustered voice, his eyes fixed on the bar. “She’s feisty but beautiful.”
I nearly choke on my soda. Excuse me? Did Delilah’s sass win him over? Everyone spins their heads to look at him, eyebrows literally reaching our hairlines.
“Cal . . .” Dylan states gravely, “she seems like the kinda chick to devour you.”
I prod Dylan, and suddenly we’re both laughing. He isn’t wrong.
But Cal’s not paying attention. His beer remains untouched, and his fingers tap up and down the glass anxiously, like some lovestruck teenager. He’s got his eyes fixed on Delilah as if she’s the only individual on the planet.
Damn, he’s completely smitten.
“She’s single, right, Fawn?” he asks, like he already knows the answer.
“Yeah, but she has no patience for idiots. You caught that part, didn’t you?”
He waves me off as if I’m background noise, picks up his beer, gets out of the booth, and strolls on over to the bar.
My jaw drops, but the soda straw remains in my mouth. Cal’s shoulders are set, his pace firm, as if he’s readying himself.
“Good God,” I gasp as he pulls out a barstool.
Can someone actually fall head over heels that quickly? Does love at first sight exist? Maybe, but with Delilah? He’ll find out the hard way.
“This is gonna be excellent. Ten bucks he gets her number,” Dylan mutters.
My shoulders shake before my head does. “Oh, you’re on! I’ll bet ten bucks she tells him to get lost.”
Torin scoffs into his beer then leans back into the leather booth, like he totally knows how this is going to go down.
Meanwhile, Dylan and I are nearly falling off our seats, eagerly watching Cal as he waits like a devoted golden retriever for Delilah to attend to him.
“You know, I’ve never seen Cal go speechless before,” Dylan states, practically pressing his chest into my back, trying to get a good look at the bar. A warmth blooms where he brushes me, and for a second my lungs forget their rhythm. The scent of stale beer manages to keep me present.
Finally, across the bar, Delilah finally spots Cal sitting there all lovesick. Instead of giving him that death glare I thought she would, she just smirks.