Chapter 2 - Delilah
I can’t do this.
The words had rang through my head for the last two days. They chipped away at me like a sculptor chiseled marble. But instead of creating something beautiful, Emmett’s rejection whittled away at me until all my ugliest insecurities were right at the surface.
He was so close. And I was so sure I’d finally get what I’d been wanting since I knew what it meant to kiss someone.
But then he left. He left like I had meant nothing with a broken apology.
Like I was a shitty toy he got tired of playing with.
As if I hadn’t put myself—my heart, my self-respect, my friendship with his sisters—on the line for him.
It was the worst pain he’d ever caused me, a pain I didn’t even know a man could make me feel because I never gave them the chance.
But he wasn’t just any man; he was Emmett. Emmett with his blonde curls and rough voice and terrified eyes. Emmett with his scarred heart and tormented mind. Emmett with my bleeding heart in his trembling hands.
No other man on Earth had this kind of power over me. Not once has a man made me feel this terrible about myself, this unworthy. I knew what I was about. I was whip smart and funny as hell, with a pretty face and fantastic body to boot.
So why didn’t he want me?
No, fuck that. I knew he wanted me. I saw the heat in his eyes, felt the need in his hold on my hip. There was no denying it.
He just wouldn’t let himself have me. And I had no idea why.
I had made it so easy. All he had to do was take, and I was ready for it. More ready than I’d ever been for anything in my life.
It was probably for the best, though. There was no telling what kind of damage finally being with someone you’d loved for twenty years might cause. I couldn’t even fathom it when just Emmett’s touch was almost too much to handle.
I was still buzzing from it two days later.
The logical, therapist side of me was screaming, thank fucking God that nothing happened. But the brokenhearted girl in me was devastated.
I set my pen down and sighed, staring at the water as it flowed over rocks. The creek behind Golden Circle was my refuge, but even its calming surroundings did nothing to fix me this time around.
Why couldn’t he see me? See that if he just let it happen, we’d be perfect together.
He could be the grounding force to my wildness, while I could be the support that brought him out of his shell.
He was a Capricorn, I was a Virgo—I found out how compatible those signs were in my zodiac phase when I was seventeen, which I never really grew out of.
And yet, after all this time, he hadn’t noticed.
Was it just because I was Savannah’s best friend, or was it something more?
Something about me?
I snapped my journal shut, refusing to sit in this spiral for another second. I was better than this. I didn’t wallow, and I especially didn’t wallow over men. Grabbing my phone, I shot Savvy a text.
Me: can we go get wasted? i need a distraction
Savvy: Can Wes come? Or is this girls’ night?
Savvy: He’ll DD
I rolled my eyes, said yes, and started walking back to the ranch. My best friend and her fiancé had been up each other’s asses for the last three months, and while I was so happy for her that they sorted their shit out, I couldn’t help but be jealous.
I wanted what they had. Wanted someone who loved me unconditionally…and also gave me mind-blowing orgasms. Not that I couldn’t get those already, but I had a feeling getting them from someone who knew every facet of you and loved you anyway made them infinitely better.
I bet you felt that shit down in your pinky toes.
Hooves hitting dirt came behind me while I was loading my car. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Emmett on the back of Birch, his horse, and I almost slid down the side of my car to the ground.
I hated how hot he was, and how I’d always thought so.
Even at thirteen, with lanky limbs and braces; sixteen, with new muscles in his football uniform; eighteen, with pride in his eyes and a buzzed head in his Army fatigues; twenty-nine, with a haunted stare and tattoos swirling over nearly every inch of him.
But this version. This version of him was my favorite yet. His curls had grown out, flipping beneath his backwards baseball cap, and his boxy white tee and faded jeans fit like they were made for him. Fuck me, he was even wearing a silver chain around his neck.
It ached to want him this intensely for so long. Like a bruise that never healed.
I froze when his stare met mine across the yard, those green eyes holding me captive. That pull I felt Thursday was still there, taught like a string. I wanted to yank on it and drag him over here.
But more than that, I wanted him to drag me.
This was the first time he’d even looked in my direction since he fled from my office.
The muscles in his jaw tensed, his throat moving with a swallow I wanted to trace with my tongue.
His brows pulled together before he looked at the ground, and the hold on my lungs released when he turned to tie Birch to a fence post.
My hand skirted along the side of my car as I stumbled back into the driver’s seat and left, my heart hammering.
I guess he wasn’t the only one who knew how to flee.
The Bull Pen was another one of my havens.
While the creek was my sanctuary, this run-down bar was my playground.
Savannah and I walked in, our arms linked, with Weston at our backs.
The music was so loud, it made my insides jump with the bass.
I grinned. It was the perfect volume to drown out my thoughts of my best friend’s brother.
“How wasted are we getting here? Shots or drinks?” Savannah yelled into my ear as we wormed our way to the bar.
“Both,” I tossed over my shoulder. I smiled to myself at her heavy, bracing breath. I stepped onto the foot rail, leaning over the wooden bar. I cupped a hand to my mouth. “Robbie!”
Robbie, a mid-fifties cowboy and owner of this eighth wonder of the world, grinned when he saw me. “Watchya doin’ here, cherry bomb?”
I kissed his weathered cheek. “I managed to get Savvy out of the house!” I shook his shoulders excitedly as I spoke.
“Now that’s cause for celebratin’.” He shot Savvy a wink.
“Ha ha.” She rolled her eyes beside me. “You’re both hilarious.”
“We need two vodka crans and four shots of vodka.” I glanced over my shoulder at Weston. “And a beer for our warden. He’s buying.”
“So I’m just a chauffeur and a wallet to you people, huh?” he grumbled behind me, but slid over his Amex anyway.
I smirked. “Wow, you’re finally catching on. Gold star for you!” He flicked me in the forehead.
“A very sexy one,” Savannah said seconds later with hearts in her eyes, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck to bring his mouth to hers before I could smack him.
I looked away, grabbed the first two shots Robbie poured, and tossed them back in quick succession.
The burn felt good in my chest. Distracting.
Savannah took her shot slower, wincing as the vodka went down. “I’m gonna regret this tomorrow,” she murmured and drank the second.
We snatched our drinks off the bar, and I pulled her to the dance floor.
The next few hours passed in a blur of shots and drinks and laughs. We watched Weston get thrown from Whiplash, the mechanical bull. We line danced. We ate Pixy Sticks I kept tucked in my bra strap. And Emmett was only on the very outskirts of my mind through it all.
A pair of strong hands slid around my waist, and Savannah gave me a wink—the guy was hot. One blink meant okay, two meant slam my heel into his foot and run.
I turned, and my best friend hadn’t lied. He was tall, broad, and a cowboy because there wasn’t much else around here. He had dark brown eyes that matched his hair, gorgeous light brown skin, and a panty-dropping smile.
“Hello there, stranger,” I said, lacing my arms around his shoulders.
“Hi yourself, gorgeous.” He leaned in, fingers flexing on my waist. “I’m Connor.” The soft rasp of his voice made me shiver. “Do you know you’re the most beautiful woman in this bar?”
“Yes,” I answered confidently. Guys either loved or hated that response. It was a good gauge of whether they were a decent man or not.
He pulled away, laughing loudly. “Good.” He raised his hand and spun me, the crowded dance floor blurring before he pulled me back quickly. “I like a girl who knows what she’s worth.”
If he only knew the shitstorm in my head. But tonight was supposed to be about forgetting the shitstorm, not stewing in it. I plastered on a flirty smile and slid my hands up his chest. “I’m worth more than you can afford,” I purred.
His full lips curled with a smirk. “Guess I’d better work overtime then.”
Damn, he was smooth.
It should have worked. It would have worked if it hadn’t been for what happened in my office the other day.
Emmett’s stupid hand. That groan. As nice and cute as Connor was, his hands on my body felt wrong.
Traitorous. They weren’t heavy and warm and trembling with pent-up need like Emmett’s had been.
But that was the problem. Connor wasn’t Emmett. He couldn’t be, and I didn’t want him to be. And I didn’t have it in me tonight to pretend that didn’t upset me.
“Want to get out of here so I can start putting in that work?” he whispered in my ear. But all I could picture was the way Emmett looked at me earlier.
The song ended, and I pulled away with a smile I hoped was convincing. “Not tonight. Thanks for the dance, though, Connor. It was fun.”
He blinked, confused, but let me go. I turned on my heel and went to find Savannah and Weston, ripping open two blue Pixy Sticks and dumping them in my mouth on the way.
I found them by the bar, Weston’s arm slung around Savannah. She frowned when she saw me, setting her drink down. “Not going home with him?”
All the drinks and turmoil started to catch up with me. I shook my head. “Need to go home,” I slurred. I gripped Weston’s shoulder, swaying a little. Savannah stood quickly, eyes wide with concern. “Drank too much.”
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Savannah asked, walking me up the stairs to my apartment.
My stomach twisted with guilt. I nearly kissed her brother two days ago, and here she was taking care of me after I cut her night with her fiancé short.
Maybe it really was for the best that Emmett bailed because I wasn’t sure how I’d look her in the eye if anything had happened.
“Yeah, Savvy, I’m fine. Just went a little too hard.”
She unlocked my door with her spare key and set me down on the couch. “You don’t want me to spend the night?” Acid crawled up my throat, but I forced it down.
“No.” I took the water she handed me. “Go be with your cowboy.”
She looked me over, weighing options. “Okay.” She leaned down and kissed my head. “Love you. Text me in the morning, alright?”
I nodded. “Love you.” The words came out brittle, only because I meant them. The door clicked shut behind her, the lock turning with a finality that reverberated through me. My head fell back against the couch, and I stared at the spinning ceiling.
Alone as always.
“Screw this,” I said to no one. Grabbing my phone, I wrote a text to the one person I absolutely shouldn’t be contacting right now.
Me: i dont undersyad yoi
Me: why did you rum
I tossed my phone onto the coffee table, not wanting to watch and see if he’d respond.
I ended up staring at it anyway, my head in my hands.
The screen went black, and I knew then I’d screwed up by saying anything.
I should’ve just left it and pretended nothing happened.
But then the screen lit up. A gasp shot out of me, and I snatched the phone off the table.
Don’t Text Him: Where are you?
I shook my head at the phone, scoffing. “Now you give a shit? Fuck you,” I ground out, typing furiously. And he didn’t even answer my question! What an asshole.
Me: whhy do you caree
Me: emmett
Don’t Text Him: Delilah. I’m not gonna ask again.
Christ, why was that so hot? I imagined him saying it with the same deep tone he used in my office, asking if I wanted him to fuck me on my desk. My eyes drifted shut, and I fell back against my couch. The phone buzzed in my hand again, right as I was starting to doze.
Don’t Text Him: Delilah.
Me: i hone
I watched with blurry eyes as the text bubble came and went, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open long enough to see what he said, and passed out.
When I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and blue raspberry-flavored cottonmouth, I blindly reached for my phone. It wasn’t until I saw an unread text from Emmett that my eyes shot open.
“Oh no,” I groaned. “What did you do?”
I opened the text with shaking hands, my heart in my throat. There was no telling what I said. But nothing could have prepared me for what he said.
Don’t Text Him: I don’t understand myself either.