Chapter 5 Delylah
Delylah
The sound of shuffling cards mingled with the steady pitter-patter of rain on the tent.
After we’d made it back to the campsite, he’d brought me my backpack from the other tent. While I’d changed into my sweats, Noah had gone to get the walkie-talkie from his truck, letting the lodge know that we were staying up here for the night.
The two sitting chairs in the corner were draped with the clothes we’d hung out to dry. My chambray shirt. His jacket and jeans. My muddy shoes that had no hope of ever being white again were beside Noah’s boots, just inside the tent’s open flaps.
We’d spent the past hour sitting on the floor, wrapped in blankets, playing poker at the foot of the bed as we waited for the worst of the storm to pass.
My cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing. Not bad for a day that had all the makings of a disaster.
“Jacks are wild.” Noah dealt us each five cards.
I picked up my hand, schooling my expression as I stared at a full house. “You’re a horrible dealer.”
“And you’re a horrible liar,” he muttered. “Are you taking any cards?”
“Nope.”
“Of course not.” He groaned, swapping three from his hand for three from the deck. Then he tossed them on the floor. “Queen high.”
“Full house.” I laughed. “If only we were playing for money.”
“I can’t afford poker with you.” He stood, letting the blanket pool on the floor as he walked over to the cooler he’d brought in from outside. He crouched beside it, flipping open the lid.
He wore a gray cotton T-shirt that molded to his broad chest and the honed muscles of his back and stomach.
Its sleeves strained around his biceps. The hem was long enough to fall to his hips, hiding some of his black boxer briefs.
Some, but not all. They fit around his bulky thighs and did nothing to hide the perfect curve of his ass.
Noah Chappel was in his underwear.
This was the best camping trip of my life.
“Hungry?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.
“Starved.” I picked up the cards, letting the curtain of my hair fall in my face, hiding the flush of my cheeks.
If my camera was closer, I’d attempt to sneak a picture.
Noah took out two water bottles and two wraps rolled in foil. He sat on his blanket, leaning against the foot of the bed, his long legs stretched out.
Lord, he had great legs. Never in my life had I admired calf muscles the way I did today.
“These were probably supposed to be for lunch,” he said, handing me one. “Usually the host will build a fire, cook steaks and potatoes for dinner.”
“Poor Mark.” I’d heard all about the vomit incidents. Both of them.
“He’s the victim in all of this.”
“Except you’re the guy who had to clean up puke,” I said.
“Yes, but I’m also the guy in the tent with a beautiful woman.”
My heart skipped. “Noah Chappel. Are you flirting with me?”
“Yes.” He answered without hesitation. “Want me to stop?”
“Nope.”
“Good.” His smile was infectious as he stared at me, holding my gaze with such intensity I couldn’t look away.
I’d spent most of my life trying not to stare at Noah. Trying to hide blushes and shy smiles. Pretending that a thousand butterflies weren’t fluttering their wings in my belly every time he glanced my way.
Emily had always said that it would be weird, Noah and me. But it wasn’t. Never in my life had I felt this comfortable with a man. Yes, I was nervous. I was so excited that my hands had trembled for our first three poker hands. But there wasn’t a place on earth I’d rather be right now.
“Thanks for coming to get me,” I said.
“I should have come with you from the start.” He twisted off the cap of a water bottle, handing it to me. “I was supposed to come up here, but Emily wanted you to have some alone time with your boy, Jake.”
“Definitely not my boy.” I grimaced. “But Emily’s been on a matchmaking kick ever since I broke up with my ex. She thinks a new relationship is the best way for me to get over an asshole. I disagree.” Dumping the asshole was my way to get over it.
“Bad breakup?”
“You could stay that. He took a bunch of pictures of me while I was asleep in his bed. Naked. He posted them online without my permission.”
“What the fuck?”
“He called it ‘art’ and told me if anyone should understand that concept, it should be me. Oh, and it was okay because he blurred out my nipples. He took the post down because I threatened to press charges if he didn’t, but he thinks I overreacted.”
“Damn.” Noah dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s done now. He’s a forensic photographer too, so our paths cross from time to time, but I do my best to forget he exists. Emily brings him up more than anyone. She worries. If we were at home, I would have told her to forget about Jake. But it’s her wedding weekend.”
“So you came glamping with your boy.”
“Stop.” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “You should have come with us.”
“It’s Emily’s weekend. She gets her way. And let’s be honest, she usually gets me to do whatever she wants. I’m not great at telling her no.”
Noah had always doted on Emily when we were younger, but their dynamic had changed after the accident. Since then, he’d indulged her every request. I couldn’t remember a time since the wreck that I’d heard him tell her no.
When she was a sophomore, he’d been driving her to volleyball practice when they’d gotten into a car crash. A woman on her phone had blown through a stop sign and T-boned Noah’s truck.
Emily had been riding in the back seat because Noah’s football gear had been in the front.
Her side of the vehicle had taken the brunt of the impact, and though everyone in the accident had walked away, she’d gotten a few scrapes and deep cuts on her forearms. Three of the gashes had needed stitches, and though they were faint, she still had scars.
She rubbed them whenever she was anxious or upset. It had become a nervous habit that I doubted she even realized she was doing. But if Noah was around, a single touch on her forearms, and he would agree to anything she asked.
“My parents think I spoil her,” he said. “After the accident, I just . . .”
“Feel guilty.”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
I gave him a sad smile. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I was driving.”
“Still not your fault. Emily doesn’t blame you, so you shouldn’t blame yourself.”
“It’s just one of those things I’ll never forget. But I hear you.” Noah sighed, running a hand through his hair. “That got heavy. Sorry.”
“No apologies.”
“Tell me about your job. What’s new in the world of New York City forensic photography?”
I scrunched up my nose. “Yikes. Now we’re talking heavy.”
“That bad?”
“I liked it at first. It was a thrill. But after about a year, it really started to weigh on me. Some of the things I’ve seen, I can’t forget. And there’s only so much compartmentalizing I can do before I feel like a robot.”
“Sorry. So are you going to quit?”
“That’s my plan. It’s taken me a while to get over the guilt of spending years and thousands of dollars on a college education I won’t use.
The photography courses weren’t a waste.
I had some amazing professors who taught me so much.
But I don’t need a degree in criminal justice to do weddings and newborn portraits. ”
“Is that what you want to do?”
I shrugged. “Maybe? I’d prefer to do original artwork, but I don’t know if it will sell.
There’s a gallery in the city that’s doing an exhibition for me this fall.
Everything is kind of riding on it. I’ve pretty much convinced myself it will flop and I’ll spend the rest of my life photographing puddles of blood and severed limbs. ”
“Nah. You’re going to crush it. I’ve seen your stuff on social media and the pictures your parents have at their house. It’s fantastic. No more severed limbs for you.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am right.” A dimple formed in his cheek as he grinned.
God, that dimple was sexy.
He reclined deeper against the bed, crossing one ankle over the other.
“Remember that time you and Emily were having a sleepover at my house? I was home for spring break my sophomore year. She was pissed because we voted on the movie to watch, and we both picked The Shining instead of whatever rom-com she wanted to watch. Thirty minutes in, and she stormed out, slammed the door to her room. But you didn’t go with her.
You stayed on the couch with me, and we talked through the rest of the movie. ”
“I remember.” I closed my eyes, picturing us on the couch, facing each other, barely glancing at the TV. “I was so nervous. God, I had the biggest crush on you.”
The words slipped from my lips before I could stop them.
Noah sat up straighter. “You did?”
“Um, yes.” It was too late to deny it now. “You didn’t know?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Part of me had always wondered if Noah had suspected my feelings, but I guess not.
Ugh. For years, I’d kept this crush a secret. Years. A single afternoon in a tent, and I blurted the truth. What the hell was wrong with me today? First, I told Emily I was moving, when I’d planned to wait until after the wedding. Now this.
Maybe I should have had that bourbon earlier.
Things were going to get awkward. Damn it.
“You know what? Forget I said that. You don’t need to hear about your sister’s best friend’s crush.” Stop saying crush, Delylah. My face was getting hot and undoubtedly turning a brilliant shade of red. “Let’s, uh, talk about something else. What’s your favorite part of teaching?”
He arched his eyebrows.
Yep, here came the awkward. Any minute, Noah would put on his jeans, and our camping trip would be over.
Except a slow grin stretched across his mouth. Relief flooded through my veins as he started peeling back the foil to his wrap.
“My favorite part is the kids,” he said.
“I love that they are brutally honest. Every day is a gamble. They’re funny and mean and sweet, and sometimes, little assholes.
But they’re honest with their feelings. Most haven’t learned to mask them yet.
I like that they can be real with me, and I can be real with them. ”
“I like real too. It’s the reason I love photography.
My camera gives me a chance to capture real moments.
” A smile gifted from a stranger. A tear rolling down a child’s face.
A man staring at a woman he loved when she wasn’t looking.
Moments that only existed for a heartbeat before they were swallowed up by a busy world.
I hated selfies because they weren’t real. They weren’t raw.
“What’s your favorite picture you’ve ever taken?” he asked.
The mental image of that photo popped into my head, and that sweet relief I’d felt a moment ago vanished.
I had a practiced answer for this question.
Whenever a gallery owner asked which was my favorite, I always lied and said it was my most popular photo—a shot of a city street at dawn where the edges were blurry and the focus was at the end of the road.
All my favorite photos were fuzzy at the edges to draw your eye to the focal point. That photo of the city street had defined my style.
Except it wasn’t my favorite. And I couldn’t lie to Noah, not after I’d just professed how much I liked real, and he loved honesty. Shit.
“What?” He reached over and poked my knee. “Come on. Tell me. We’re in the tent of honesty.”
“It’s embarrassing.” I made a noise that was both laugh and groan. “It’s, um, a picture I took of you.”
The words came out so fast and jumbled they hardly made sense.
“A picture you took of me?”
I nodded, burying my face in my palms to hide my flaming cheeks.
“When?”
“A long time ago.” I dropped my hands to my lap and sagged. “It was right after my dad bought me my first camera my junior year.”
“Your emotional support camera. I remember. You carried it around with you everywhere and gave it a name. Alfred.”
I still had Alfred, though I didn’t use it often. But it would always be special. Alfred opened the door to a passion and, later, a career.
“You were home for a long weekend to do laundry or something,” I said.
“I was on my front porch, messing around with the camera. You went for a run and came back all sweaty. You had your headphones in and stopped to sit on the lawn. Then you turned your face to the sky and closed your eyes. It was like you were so lost in whatever song was playing, you shut out the rest of the world.”
The picture I’d taken wasn’t the most sophisticated shot. It was slightly off center and a bit out of focus. But I loved that picture. It was like capturing a piece of my heart.
“That was the first photograph I took that felt like capturing a real moment. No one was looking at the camera. No one forcing a smile or saying cheese. Nothing fake or posed. It was real.”
A smile toyed at his mouth as his gaze held mine.
Noah’s eyes were worthy of a thousand photos. Green and gold and brown. The colors were ringed with a circle of charcoal and framed with long dark lashes. I blamed those eyes for the complete and utter lack of filter I had with my mouth today.
“Do you still have it?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s somewhere in a box. I printed it out and kept it hidden under my bed so Emily wouldn’t find it.”
He threw his head back and laughed, the sound so carefree I couldn’t help but smile. “I hope I get to see that picture someday.”
Never. I’d also doodled hearts and our names together on the back of that picture.
“Can I tell you something?” he asked.
“Of course. We’re in the tent of honesty.”
He scooted closer and reached for a tendril of my hair, pushing it off my temple. Tingles sparked across my skin at the touch of his fingertips. “That night we talked through the movie, it took everything I had to stay on my side of the couch and not kiss you.”
My breath hitched.
Noah’s gaze dropped to my mouth, and his fingers slid deeper into my hair.
Oh. My. God. Was this actually happening? I leaned into his touch, my heart galloping as he bent closer.
“Delylah, I—”
“Noah, come in.” Emily’s voice crackled as it blasted from the walkie-talkie.
My heart crashed to the floor. Don’t answer. Please, don’t answer.
Noah let out a frustrated groan, dropping his forehead to mine. For a moment, neither of us moved, like if we stayed still, she’d go away.
“Hello, can you hear me?” Emily asked.
His hand slipped from my hair, the moment broken.
Damn.
Noah picked up the walkie-talkie from beside us on the floor. He lifted it to his mouth, staring at me as he pushed the button. “Yeah, I can hear you.”
“I just heard you’re staying up there for the night. Are you serious? We have a lot going on and could use some help. We’re—”
Whatever else she was going to say was cut off, the radio only giving static.
He sighed, staring outside. His expression turned conflicted, but I knew before he moved what was going to happen. He stood and went to the chair for his jeans.
And just like that, our camping trip was over.