10. Delia
The entire Delatou gang descended on Owen’s restaurant Friday evening for our weekly family dinner. By the entire gang, I meant everyone . Me, of course, Mom and Dad, Chloe and Logan, Amara and Calvin, Ella and her dumbass boyfriend, Alfie, Brie, and even Ezra, his son, Hansen, and his father, Fredrik, who insisted we call him Rik. Ezra had invited himself because, and I quote, “I refuse to miss a meal at a place like Birdie’s, especially if you’re paying.” While he wasn’t technically family, he’d been working for us long enough to feel like part of it.
Tonight, we were celebrating my new title as social media manager for Birdie’s, Lawless, and Overtime.
“Well,” my dad said, clapping his hands together. “What kind of wine do we want?”
“Josh!” Alfie quipped, and every one of us Delatou girls glared daggers at him, save Ella, who rolled her eyes and huffed out a little sigh that sent her bangs floating.
My father leveled a finger at him from the head of the table. “ Utter that name again in my presence and they’ll never find your body.”
“Easy, big guy,” Alfie joked, raising his palms placatingly. “It was just a joke.”
“A really fucking bad one,” I mumbled.
Alfie’s sharp features narrowed on me. “Fuck off.”
My hackles rose, and I looked to my sister for backup. Ella only turned her face away, pretending to examine the wine menu though we all knew Ezra would be selecting for the table.
So I returned my gaze to her boyfriend, the little pissant, and said, “You are aware I’m paying for your meal tonight, right?”
“And?” Alfie sneered.
“And if you speak to me like that again, I’ll hang you out to dry.”
Alfie’s eyes flared, challenge accepted, but my sister settled a hand on his forearm. “Back off, Alf,” she said quietly.
After a beat, Alfie did as he was told, mumbling, “whatever” as he turned to Ella and whispered something in her ear that had her face going pale.
Before I could address the situation, could find some way to rid us of this leech sucking the life out of my sister, Owen appeared at my father’s side, settling a hand on his shoulder.
“Welcome, Delatou family,” he said, grinning broadly. “What brings you in?”
“Celebrating my new position,” I said, smirking knowingly at Owen.
“New position?” my mom asked. “What new position? You’re not leaving the winery, are you?”
“Of course not,” I said, waving a hand. “The Chateau is stuck with me forever.”
“It’s your legacy,” my father said, “so I would hope so.”
Actually, it’s Amara’s legacy , I thought wryly, but figured it was best not to speak that aloud. Instead, I simply said, “Owen offered me a job.”
“Doing what?” Chloe asked.
“Managing social media for Lawless, Overtime, and…Birdie’s!” I said, flinging my arms out wide to gesture at the restaurant around us. “Hence why I wanted to treat us all to family dinner here this week. I’m technically on the clock.”
I met Owen’s gaze and couldn’t help shooting him a wink.
His eyes held mine as he said, “If you think you’re paying, you’re sadly mistaken, Whiskey.”
“Ha!” Alfie said, an expression of triumph surely gracing his stupid face, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Owen.
Something was happening here, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Almost as if he was making it his personal mission to…take care of me? But why would he want to do that?
God, I didn’t know anything anymore.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, knowing the words were soft enough that they wouldn’t reach his ears but he could read them plainly on my lips.
“In that case,” my father boomed, “get me your most expensive bottle of CD!”
The table broke out in laughter, and the corner of Owen’s mouth ticked up.
“I’ll let the waitstaff know,” he said, eyes still not leaving mine.
“Why don’t you join us?” my mother offered. “We’d love to hear how the distillery is coming, and Delia doesn’t tell us anything.”
My face heated. “I would if I ever saw you.”
“Exactly,” my dad said, leveling me with that intense, pine green stare. “Have you forgotten where we live?”
“Of course not,” I said. “I’ve just been busy.”
My dad faced Owen again. “Stop monopolizing my daughter, Lawless.”
Owen chuckled. “Apologies, sir.”
Then, seeming to accept my mother’s invitation, Owen moved around the table and pulled a chair from one nearby, stopping between me and Alfie. It took a moment for the little shit to recognize the hulking male form bearing down on him, but when he did, he looked up at Owen, eyes wide.
Still, he apparently couldn’t leave well enough alone, because he said, “Can I help you?”
“Move.” That single word in Owen’s deep timbre left no room for argument, and Alfie wisely scooted his chair without another word, nearly scrambling in Ella’s lap, who moved over further to make room for Owen.
I expected him to create some separation between us once he was seated, but he remained where he was, his thick, rock hard thigh pressed against mine. He seemed oblivious to the way my skin heated with his proximity. He could’ve easily intimidated Alfie into moving further down but chose to stay at my side.
What the fuck did that mean? Was it normal to lose my mind over a simple, completely innocent touch from a man?
I knew the answer, I just wasn’t ready to confront it quite yet.
“You’re mean,” I said quietly, ignoring the way my body reacted to him .
“Hardly,” Owen whispered back. “Someone needs to teach that kid a lesson.”
I snorted, delighted that Owen had picked up on Alfie’s horribleness so quickly.
“We’ve been trying to for three years,” I said.
Before I could further enumerate Alfie’s flaws, a group of waiters appeared brandishing several bottles of Chateau Delatou wine, and they moved around the table in a well-choreographed dance, filling glasses quickly.
Owen growled, a low sound of warning, when Alfie attempted to refuse, saying he hated wine and would rather drink tequila.
“You’ll drink it, and you’ll like it,” he said, his voice vibrating through my entire body thanks to his proximity. “Or you can leave.”
“You can’t make me.”
“I own this building, you little shit,” Owen snarled. “That’s the least of the things I can make you do.”
Fuck, this was going to be a long meal.
“Blech,” Brie said from down the table as she sipped her glass of cab. “Too dry.”
“Excuse you, young lady,” my father said. “I worked very hard to perfect that blend.”
“Should’ve tried harder,” she said under her breath, but Dad still heard her.
“Watch it, Brie,” he said. “Take one more shot at my prized possession and I’ll take your bakery away.”
Brie gasped theatrically, knowing both that the Cabernet recipe was far from his most prized possession and that he didn’t have the power to take away the bakery—that resided with Amara.
“You can’t do that, Daddy,” she said cheekily, sticking her tongue out, “and you know it.”
“I can damn sure try.”
“You do, old man,” Brie started, “and you’ll never taste my baklava again.”
My dad slammed his fist into his chest as though he’d been fatally wounded. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Brie tipped her nose in the air. “Fuck around and find out.”
“Brie!” Mom scolded as the rest of the table broke into a fit of laughter.
God, I loved these people—except Alfie. Even on the bad days when I wasn’t entirely sure where I fit in the grand scheme of things, I knew I belonged here . Knew how much they all loved and rooted for me. Understood in a bone-deep way how much our parents had given us with this life and this family. In my sisters, they’d given me everything.
My laughter cut off abruptly as Owen’s hand closed around my knee, and my gaze flew to his. The look on his face—joy edged with pain. My nerves were alight, practically singing under his touch, but I only cared about him.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Fine,” he said, clearing his throat. “Just…missing my own family.”
My heart melted into my stomach, and I placed my hand atop his, squeezing. “You can have mine whenever you want.”
His face softened, the tightness around his eyes smoothing away. “I’ll be taking you up on that.”
“I hope you do. ”
I said a lot more in those four words than I’d ever intended, and I waited for fear to paralyze my body.
Only, it never came. A sense of rightness settled on my bones at the thought of sharing these people with him, of welcoming him into the family.
“Just one condition, Whiskey,” he said, lips twisting into the hint of a smirk, his ocean eyes twinkling.
“What’s that?”
“Get rid of Alfie.”
I tipped my head back and laughed.
Dinner was delicious, as I expected, though I seemed to spend more time on my phone than I did enjoying each new course. Truly, though, none of it felt like work. I loved content creation, and I was damn good at it. It was immensely satisfying to have someone like Owen, who didn’t owe me anything outside of our partnership and didn’t really take anything regarding social media marketing seriously, to recognize that about me. At first, it felt like he was only throwing me a bone, and I wanted to argue with him that he was doing fine on his own. But after he’d given me access to the social accounts—he’d been the one managing them himself for years, with sporadic help from random employees—I understood there was definitely room for improvement. So I was making it my mission to take things to the next level. Owen and I could become a dynamic duo, taking the Traverse City nightlife and restaurant scene by storm. Him, with the face and the name, and me with the marketing chops.
In the month since we’d started working together, I’d come to enjoy my time with him. More than I cared to admit, which was dangerous. Something buzzed in the air between us whenever he was within my orbit—or maybe that was simply wishful thinking. Maybe I was assigning more meaning to his general friendliness and bone deep desire to take care of those around him.
But I couldn’t wish for Owen to be anything but my partner and now, I supposed, my boss. That had turned out horribly for Amara and Calvin. Still, I could admit, if only in my own mind…the man was a smoke. Sex on a stick in scuffed Ariat boots and denim that hugged his perfect ass. Owen was exactly the kind of man I was drawn to—a little rugged on the outside with a heart of gold. I practically drooled every time I looked at him, my core clenching around some appendage of his I’d never feel inside me. Privately, I mourned the loss of all the things those big hands would never do to me.
When dinner disbanded at last, I was close to coming out of my skin from his nearness.
Owen disappeared to the back of the Birdie’s, and the rest of my family headed in their separate directions. After exchanging tense words with Ella, Alfie stormed off.
In the end, only Ella, Brie, and I remained, gathered on the sidewalk in the rapidly descending nighttime.
“Can we go out tonight?” Ella said without preamble.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” I assured her with a smile, then turned to Brie. “You in?”
Brie shrugged. “I don’t have anything better to do.”
I shared a look with Ella, and both of us broke into giggles. “We appreciate the enthusiasm,” Ella said .
“You guys want to come over and get ready at my place?” I asked. “I need to upload the content from tonight to my computer and change. Where do you want to go?”
“Lawless?” Ella asked quietly. “I haven’t been in forever, and it’s…”
She trailed off, so I prompted, “It’s what, El?”
“Alfie won’t go there,” she said, refusing to meet my eyes. “Not before, but definitely not now that he feels like Owen slighted him.”
I scoffed. “Owen can’t slight someone in his own damn restaurant.”
“ I know that,” Ella said defensively, crossing her arms and giving me a stare down she’d perfected years ago. “But you know how Alfie is.”
“Don’t I ever.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ella asked coldly.
“How about we don’t do this?” Brie said, stepping between us. “Let’s head back up to ABB and rendezvous at Delia’s to pregame. Deal?”
“Deal,” Ella grumbled, and I only nodded.
On the drive back down the peninsula to Traverse City later that night, I finally cracked. I’d played nice with Ella while we got ready at my place, schooling my temper to something far more manageable by the time she’d arrived at my place, Brie following shortly behind. But the silence in the car was eating me alive, the tension between us suffocating .
“What’s going on with you, El?” I asked softly.
In my periphery, I saw my sister stiffen in the passenger seat. She was silent long enough that I thought she’d blow me off, brush whatever was going on under the rug like she’d been doing often these days—for years, actually.
Instead, she said, “Alfie and I got in a fight as we were leaving Birdie’s. Actually, we’ve been fighting a lot lately.”
“About what?” Brie asked from the back.
“The list of things we don’t fight about would actually be shorter,” Ella said with a soft, bitter chuckle.
Neither Brie nor I laughed with her.
“So what was today’s about?”
“Owen,” she said. “And Dad. And the way the men we surround ourselves with treat him.”
“Maybe if he wasn’t such an asshat…” Brie said quietly.
I expected Ella to protest, to whirl on our youngest sister and dig into her.
So I was surprised when, in place of harsh words, Ella’s sniffles and choked back sobs filled the otherwise silent car.
“Fuck,” I said, pulling over onto the side of the road abruptly, the car behind me honking and swerving around me.
In a moment, I was parked and turned toward Ella, Brie and I both waiting her out as she composed herself, all of our hands linked together.
“It’s not even worth talking about,” Ella said at last. “He just doesn’t like anyone, you know? He hates all of you. He can’t stand Mom and Dad, and he’s so rude to Logan and Cal anytime we’re around them. I just…I’m so exhausted.”
“I don’t understand why you don’t just leave then,” Brie said.
Ella sniffed, lifting her free hand to swipe at the tears rolling down her cheeks. Her eyes met mine, their vibrant green depths near glowing in the dashboard lights.
“I love him,” she said simply.
I squeezed her hand tighter. “You can love someone and recognize they aren’t meant to be part of your life.”
Clearly, that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She withdrew her hand from ours and faced forward, dropping the visor and flipping open the mirror to check her makeup. Conversation clearly over, I shared a weary look with Brie in the rearview before pulling back onto the highway and resuming our trek into the city.
I decided to act as our designated driver that night. For one, I wanted to get both of my sisters back up to Apple Blossom Bay in one piece, and two, it seemed like a bad idea to be drinking when I was also working for Owen, planning on giving his social media followers a “night in the life at Lawless” look at the club. It had been so long since I’d gone out that, despite the fact that I was here on Owen’s dime, I couldn’t help myself from slinking to the center of the dance floor and giving myself to the music for an hour.
Plenty of guys came up to me, grinding behind me, slipping their hands up and down my body. I entertained those bold enough to approach; their wonton touches didn’t bother me. That was what places like this were for—losing yourself to sensation. Indulging in a fantasy before returning to the real world. The club was a bubble, an alternate reality. With the lights low and the music loud, it was easy to forget all of my hang-ups.
Well, mostly all of them .
No handsome man swaying behind me to the music could distract me from the fact that they weren’t the hands I wanted on me.
Damn, that was a dangerous thought. Then again, it wasn’t like it would ever happen, right? So really, what was the harm in daydreaming?
Still, Owen was somewhere in the building, and my body knew it.
When I couldn’t stand it anymore, when I found myself spending more time scanning the crowd, searching for a particular backward ball cap and set of broad shoulders, I gave up, deciding to seek him out.
After all, we were partners. I was allowed to check in on him, wasn’t I?
Hugo stood sentinel at the end of the hall to Owen’s office, and he returned the broad smile I shot him as I breezed past. When I reached Owen’s door, hand poised to knock, to announce my presence, I paused instead. Taking a moment to study him. He was bent over his desk, one elbow braced against it, chin propped up in his hand as he wrote something with the other.
As it turned out, Owen was a lefty, and I was mesmerized by the angle of his hand as it swept across the paper on which he wrote. His biceps flexed slightly as it moved back and forth across the page, the skin between his brows creased, pinched in concentration.
God, he was a beautiful man. It was truly a shame I’d never have him.
“Working hard or hardly working?” I asked, finally announcing myself.
Owen’s head shot up, mouth half open as though to shout for security. When his eyes landed on me, though, his gaze softened.
“Hi,” he said quietly.
“Hey.”
“What’re you doing up here?”
I briefly considered crafting some lame ass excuse, pulling an idea for the distillery or his socials from thin air, but really…I didn’t want to lie about wanting to be near him.
“Wanted to see you,” I said with a shrug, playing it off like it wasn’t a huge deal.
“Well, here I am.”