Chapter Nine #2
He eased onto the step, their knees touching, and that’s when he found out the staircase wasn’t nearly as wide as he’d always thought it was. Or maybe Delilah just took up more space. Either way, she’d sucked up all the oxygen in the vicinity, which made it hard to breathe.
The entire situation made him growly. “What do you have to apologize for?”
“For eavesdropping, of course.” She smiled right in his face as if she hadn’t noticed his tone. “That’s why I sat here instead of running back to my room. It wouldn’t be right to sneak away without letting you know that I overheard.”
More impressed with that glimpse into her character than he’d like to be, he met her gaze head on, instead of avoiding her like the chicken he’d been thus far. “It’s bound to happen in a house this size with four people living here and Tag coming and going as he pleases.”
“You’re very gracious, thank you.”
“No,” he returned immediately because she obviously had the wrong idea, and that needed to be corrected. “I’m not. I’m whatever is the opposite of that. I’m difficult and moody and not likely to change.”
She gave him another strange look he couldn’t interpret. “Who told you that?”
“No one had to tell me.” He couldn’t quite squelch the urge to laugh, so he didn’t, but it didn’t come out sounding amused. “I’ve spent the last decade in the company of other soldiers, giving orders that people obeyed without question. Not one of them did so because they enjoy my personality.”
“I imagine they followed you because you inspired them,” she said quietly, her gaze on her hands, which marked the first time ever he wished she’d look at him instead. “Same reason Tag does.”
“He does what I tell him because I pay him.” A minuscule amount, to be sure, but their relationship had shifted the moment Zero inherited the ranch. Sure, they were still friends, but it was different now. First and foremost, Tag was his responsibility.
“People leave jobs all the time with absolutely no loyalty to their employers. Something tells me you won’t have that problem with Tag.”
Said as if she might have some experience with that, one way or another. It occurred to him that she must have left her last job in a bit of a haste, or else she wouldn’t have needed this one so quickly. If this had been a date, he’d ask.
But it wasn’t anything close to a date, and this wasn’t his shining opportunity to indulge his curiosity about Delilah Kersey and the ins and outs of her life outside of the Flying Pig.
“Tag grew up here on the ranch. This is his home. Why would he go anywhere?”
“There are all sorts of reasons why people make major life choices.” She did glance up at him then, and he changed his mind about the wisdom of wishing for that when she caught him fully in her wide brown eyes. “I didn’t stay where I grew up.”
Was it possible to drown in someone’s eyes? Mesmerized, he let himself drift. “But you became a dog trainer like your father. So you must have wanted to keep a part of your childhood close.”
What did it say about his own life choices this was the most thrilling Friday night he’d had in ages? Zero couldn’t even recall the last time he’d had this long of a conversation with anyone, let alone someone he’d secretly wanted to get to know better.
Best part—he could blame it on her insistence in apologizing. Otherwise, he’d have brushed by her and gone back to bed. Which a smarter man would have already done way before now.
She nodded. “Maybe that’s a part of it. A desire to hold onto some things that are better let go.”
The melancholy thread in her voice had him doing a double take. The ever-present undercurrent cut through the atmosphere, reminding him that he’d stayed alive in terrorist-infested regions because he’d never ignored a gut feeling something was wrong.
There was some kind of history between Delilah and her father. Something that had never healed. It bothered her, clearly. Was this the reason his stomach always had that niggle around her?
The real issue was he had no right to press on that, to help her work through it. No matter how much he wanted to.
Surrounded by women with crosses to bear and no ability to shoulder the burden himself—that seemed to be his lot in life.
“I guess that’s how most folks live their life,” he said gruffly. “Letting go isn’t as easy as all that.”
Delilah shifted, placing a warm hand on his forearm. The initial shock settled into something even worse— easiness. Like she’d done this a hundred times or more. Like he’d been born knowing her touch and his skin had been missing it this whole time.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking when I said that. It must be tough enough to deal with the loss of your brother-in-law without strangers coming in and telling you how to cope.”
“I wasn’t…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, deliberately easing his arm away from her fingers, and told her, “I don’t think of you as a stranger.”
She smiled, which oddly carried the same weight as her hand on his bare arm. “That must be why I don’t think of you as difficult and moody.”
They stared at each other for a beat. She swayed closer, or maybe he did, it was hard to tell.
But her lips were suddenly right there, like she’d been drawn to him the same way he felt compelled to lean in.
It wouldn’t take but a slight change in his posture to turn this almost kiss into a real one.
He wanted to. So much. But he didn’t.
He leaned back instead. This woman scrambled his brains. “Maybe it would be best if you thought of me as the person employing you to train my dogs. Speaking of which…”
Delilah stood, breaking the mood. Good. It needed to be shattered into a million pieces, and he’d clearly lacked the will to do the dirty work himself.
What if he had kissed her? It would have been fantastic. And a disaster. Both at the same time.
She saluted smartly. “Yes, sir, Mr. Boss. Dog training is my life. I better get to bed.”
Delilah vanished, and he meant to follow her to his own room, but he had a very bad feeling he’d have an even harder time falling asleep this go around than the last one.