The Complete Rixton Falls Series

by Winter Renshaw

  “This,” she says, turning to me.

  “It’s funny to you?”

  “It’s funny that this is where we ended up. Two weeks ago, I could barely look at you without my blood boiling,” I say. “And now I’m here. Naked in your bed. Coming down from the most ridiculously amazing orgasm I’ve had in my entire life.”

  “I don’t think that’s funny at all,” I say. “I think it’s pretty fucking fantastic.”

  I crawl out of bed and head to the bathroom to clean up. When I return, she’s wrapped in my sheets.

  “I got cold,” she says with a sly smile.

  And I smile back, because she looks so sexy like that wearing nothing but a smile and white covers.

  I’m two seconds from yanking them off her and starting up all over again when the doorbell rings. Random people stopping by at this time of night is never a good thing.

  “Who’s here?” She wears a lifted brow.

  “Good question.” I move to the window and peek outside. From this part of the house, I can catch the second half of the driveway, and from here, I see enough to know exactly who it is. “Shit.”

  “What? What is it?”

  “Stay here,” I say. “Don’t make a sound.”

  I grab some jeans and a shirt from a dresser and throw them on before bolting to the front door.

  Chapter 9

  Delilah

  Fucking. Asshole.

  Who does he think he is screwing me like some fuck doll and then telling me to keep quiet the second someone comes to his door.

  What is he hiding?

  And why is he hiding me?

  A million questions storm through my mind and a thousand negative assumptions take center stage. My entire life, I’ve gotten through the hard times by listening to my gut, and right now I feel sick.

  This can’t be good.

  I rifle through his dresser and pull out the first top I find before sliding into a pair of shorts.

  I look ridiculous.

  I feel ridiculous.

  I am ridiculous.

  Not sure what I was thinking when I decided screwing Zane de la Cruz was remotely a good idea. Guess that was the problem – I wasn’t thinking. This is what happens when I let my body steer the ship.

  I hear his voice from down the hall, and I hear him tell someone he’s alone.

  Hot tears fill my eyes, and I know I’ve officially been lied to. Betrayed.

  I trusted him. And yet all along, I knew better.

  Sneaking out the back door, I run toward Aunt Rue’s, and I thank the stars in the night sky above when the code on the back door works on the first try.

  Once I’m inside, I tear his clothes off my body and climb into the hottest shower I can stand, rinsing him off of me, out of my hair, from my skin, off of every part of me he touched. All of it drips off my body and swirls down the drain, going right where it belongs.

  Zane de la Cruz will never touch me again.

  When I come out of the shower, I hear the clinking of keys from the kitchen.

  “Aunt Rue?” I call out.

  “Yes, sweetheart. Down here.”

  I’m wrapped in a thin bath towel, her AC has the house feeling like a chest freezer, and my fresh face is still stained with tears, so I’m hoping this will be brief.

  The grandfather clock in the hall reads ten o’clock.

  “I thought you were staying out late tonight?” I ask.

  “Sweetheart, this is late. I’m usually in bed by eight. You know that.” She steps out of heels and plugs her phone into its charger. “I’m exhausted. It’s been a long time since we cut a rug like that. I might need to see my podiatrist in the morning.”

  She limps down the hall before stopping and turning to face me.

  Oh, shit. She notices.

  “You have a nice evening?” she asks.

  I exhale, forcing a smile. “Yeah. It was nice and quiet.”

  “I worry about you, you know,” she says. “You came here to help me this summer, but you don’t seem like you’re having a good time.”

  Aunt Rue moves closer to me.

  “Listen, I know I have an active social life, and I have no intentions of slowing down anytime soon. Why don’t you call one of your sisters and see if they want to come out and stay for a bit? Maybe the two of you could borrow the car and take a trip down to South Beach? Somewhere young and hip?”

  I laugh. I may be young, but I’m far from hip. I’d stick out like a sore thumb in South Beach. I’d need a whole new wardrobe too.

  “What’s Daphne doing this summer? Is she home from Paris?”

  “Yeah, she just got back a few weeks ago.”

  “Call her up. Get her down here. My treat.” Aunt Rue gives me a wink. “You’re far too young to live like an old bitty. I want you to have fun this summer while you’re here. Can’t sit around and wait for the house to sell, you know. That’s Taylor’s job.”

  “I’ll give her a call.”

  “All right, darling. I’m going to bed now.” Aunt Rue turns, limping the rest of the way to her room at the far end of the hall.

  When I return to mine, I drop my towel and step into the warmest pajamas I can find before grabbing my phone and crawling under the covers.

  I smell like mandarin verbena soap, but I swear I can still smell him.

  I fire off a text to my twin sister, Daphne.

  Are You Up?

  Two minutes later she responds with a phone call.

  “Of course I’m up,” she says. “It’s ten o’clock. What’s going on?”

  “Got any plans this weekend?”

  “You sound bored. Are you bored down there?”

  “Kind of.” I sigh and slink back. “I mean, the weather is great, and Rue lets me borrow her car anytime I want to do anything, but showings are few and far between, and there aren’t a lot of people my age here. It’s not like when we were younger and we just made our own fun. It’s kind of lonely here now.”

  “You want me to come stay for a while?”

  “Will you?”

  “I was already planning on it,” she says. “I owe Rue a visit anyway.”

  “Good. How does Friday look for you?”

  “This Friday?” Daphne laughs.

  “And how long can you stay? I was thinking a month or two.”

  She blows into the phone. “Sorry. Drying my nails. And no, I will not be staying a month or two. I can stay a week. Max. I’m starting a new job at some farmhouse café that just opened in town. They wanted me to start next week, but I can tell them I need another.”

  “You went to art school and lived in Paris for a year and now you’re going to work at a farmhouse café? Are Mom and Dad pissed? I think they thought you’d be working at MoMA by now.”

  “I’m painting murals for them.” Daphne clears her throat. “It’s just for the summer. They’re not open for business yet.”

  “My bad.”

  “Anyway, you book my tickets and send me the info, and I’ll be there. But I’m only staying a week.”

  “You’re the best sister in the world.”

  “Don’t tell Demi that.”

  We giggle.

  “I’d invite Demi down here, too, but she’s all wrapped up in Royal still,” I say.

  “God, I know. They’re inseparable. I don’t think she could handle a week away from him. She’d be on the phone the whole time.”

  “Or she’d just bring him along,” I say.

  “It’s just like it was when they were in high school. Attached at the hip.”

  “Yeah, but they’re so damn happy. I’m happy for her. Slightly jealous too.” I sigh. “Don’t tell her I said that though. I like giving her shit.”

  “You have my word.” Daphne giggles. “We can make fun all we want, but they’re the lucky ones. They have it all.”

  I roll to my side, my heart stopping in my chest when I see the outline of a man outside my window.

  “Holy shit,” I yell-whisper.


  “Jesus, Delilah, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  I can’t breathe, so I need a minute. My hand clutches at my chest. When my eyes come into focus, I see exactly who it is.

  Climbing out of bed, I stomp to the window and shoo him away before pulling the curtains closed.

  By the time I sit back down, I hear a tap tap tap.

  “You going to tell me what’s going on?” Daphne asks.

  Exhaling into the phone, I say, “It’s just the guy next door.”

  “The guy next door?”

  “He wants to talk to me. He’s standing outside my window.”

  “Delilah.” Daphne’s voice takes a scolding tone. “Did you hook up with someone and not tell me? And Christ, you’re in a retirement community. How old is he?!”

  I laugh. “It’s not like that. He’s younger. And yeah. I have a lot to tell you when you get here.”

  Tap tap tap.

  He’s not going away.

  And he’s probably going to wake up Rue.

  “I have to take care of this,” I groan.

  “Everything okay?”

  “No. But it will be in two seconds after I get rid of this asshole.”

  “Book my flight and send me the info. Don’t forget.”

  “Believe me, I won’t.” I hang up with my sister and head back to the window, crossing my arms.

  Zane hasn’t moved. He just stands there with the kind of smart-ass smirk I could slap off his face if I wanted.

  Sliding the window open, I lean out. “What are you doing here?”

  His brows meet. “Um, checking on you. I came back to the room and you were gone. And your clothes were scattered all over my kitchen.”

  He lifts up a wad of rumpled garments.

  I pop open the screen and yank them from his hands, exchanging them for the clothes I took from his dresser.

  “Here,” I say. “Now go.”

  “Aren’t you going to let me explain?” He laughs, like this situation is hilarious, but it isn’t.

  “You fucked me and then told me to hide,” I say. “That says it all, don’t you think?”

  He scratches the underside of his chin, smirking and glancing to the side. “It’s not like that.”

  “I heard you tell someone you were alone,” I say.

  “Delilah, who are you talking to in there?” Aunt Rue’s muffled voice pushes through the other side of my bedroom door.

  “God damn it, you woke her up,” I whisper. I shoo him off. “Go. Get out of here.”

  “Can I come back over later?” he asks.

  “No!”

  “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  “I’m busy,” I whisper, popping the screen back into place before Rue busts in here demanding an explanation.

  “What about Friday?”

  “My sister is coming into town.”

  “Then when?”

  “Delilah?” Rue calls out again. “I hear you talking in there and your door is locked. Is everything okay?”

  My jaw is clenched. “Go home.”

  I slam the window closed and pull the curtains together before rushing to the door.

  “Sorry, I was in the bathroom. Did you need something?” I ask Rue.

  She clutches at the neckline of her robe, eyes sharp as they study me. “No, sweetheart. I was just passing down the hall to get a drink of water, and I heard you talking. You sounded upset. Is everything okay?”

  I laugh. “I was talking to Daphne on the phone. We were joking around about something. Everything’s fine. She’s going to fly in this weekend.”

  Rue’s face lights. “Oh, how wonderful. I can’t wait to see her!”

  I nod. “Me too.”

  “All right, well, I’m heading back to bed. Again. I suggest you do the same. I was hoping maybe tomorrow you could help me organize my storage room and get rid of a few things.”

  “Of course.”

  She gives me a tired smile and limps away, and I shut the door behind her. Tiptoeing back to my window, I peek out from the side of the curtain to see if he’s still out there.

  But he’s gone.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about his explanation, but it doesn’t matter at this point.

  We did what we did.

  He said what he said.

  I heard what I heard.

  And it made me feel cheap.

  Used.

  Filthy.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. You have no idea.” I’m cruising down the interstate Friday afternoon, my twin sister beside me on the front seat of Rue’s Lexus.

  “Does that mean you’re rolling out the red carpet this weekend?” Daphne fishes around in her purse, yanking out her phone and turning it on. The tap-tap-tap of her taupe nails against her screen is distracting.

  “You’re not texting Pierre, are you?” I wrinkle my nose, disgusted at the image of that forty-year-old French asshole who broke my sister’s heart this year.

  “Non.” She slides her phone back into her purse, pulling the visor down and fixing her flaxen hair in the mirror. Sweeping up her loose tendrils and re-doing her top knot before slicking on a coat of pink lip balm, Daphne goes from zero to Gigi Hadid in three seconds flat.

  My sister is the epitome of effortless chic with her bee-stung lips, honeyed skin, long legs, and white-blonde hair. And to top it all off, she’s even more beautiful on the inside. Free-spirited. Adventurous. Sweet. Inherently blissful.

  I suppose no one ever said life was fair.

  “Are you talking to someone now?” I pry a bit more.

  She turns to face me. “I’ve been back in Rixton Falls less than a month. Who would I be talking to? And why are you being so nosy? Maybe we should focus on your personal escapades, Little Miss Strange-Men-Knocking-At-Your-Window.”

  I roll my eyes, suppressing a smile and focusing on passing the car ahead.

  “So you going to tell me about him or what?” she asks.

  “He’s Rue’s next door neighbor. He plays football,” I say. “Pro football. Gainesville Cougars.”

  Daphne shrugs. “Eh. Never heard of them. But continue.”

  I chuckle. Sometimes we’re just as similar as we are different.

  “Anyway, my first night here, I went next door to tell him to keep the noise down because he was throwing this obscenely loud party,” I say.

  Daphne places her hand on my arm. “You did not.”

  “It was two in the morning on a weeknight.”

  “You realize how lame you sound, right? You do hear the words coming out of your mouth?”

  “Anyway.” I wave her off. I ramble on, filling her in on what happened that night. And how we ran into each other at the pool. And all the times I’ve bumped into him around Laguna Palms. And all the jerkwad things constantly coming out of his mouth.

  “He’s doing it on purpose,” she says. “Bumping into you. Giving you crap.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  “And as soon as you give him some, you’ll never see him again.”

  The car fills with silence for a moment.

  “Delilah.” Daphne twists her entire body my way, her chin tucked against her chest. “Please tell me you didn’t . . .”

  Biting my lip, I nod. I can’t lie to my sister. She sees clear through me anyway.

  “What? When? Why…?” Daphne slinks back in her seat, staring ahead at the traffic. “You just spent twenty minutes detailing all the reasons you can’t stand this asshole and how much he annoys you, and I agree – he’s everything you hate in a man - and then you just gave it up to him?”

  “I don’t understand it any more than you do.” My fingers wrap around the steering wheel, palms sweaty. Reaching for the controls, I crank the AC because it’s suddenly grown hotter in here. “He’s very charming. He makes it hard to concentrate sometimes. If you meet him, you’ll see.”

  “Am I going to meet him?”

  I sigh. “Probably. He’s everywhere, Daph
.”

  “So when did you sleep together?”

  “I don’t know. Earlier this week?” Tuesday night. Approximately seven o’clock. I can’t tell her that though. I have to play it cool because deep down, I’m anything but and if I say too much, she’ll sniff it out like a bloodhound.

  “Whatever. What night was it?” she pushes. “Was it before or after he tapped on your window?”

  “Before.”

  Daphne claps her hand against the dashboard. “So you gave it up, and he didn’t run away like an ass. That says something.”

  I shake my head, flipping on my turn signal and veering toward our exit. “He was bringing me my clothes. I left them there.”

  “You walked home naked?”

  “No.” We come to a stop sign, and my phone buzzes from the cup holder between us. I check my texts, welcoming an excuse to change the subject pronto. “Rue wants us to meet her for dinner at the Laguna Palms clubhouse. She’s waiting there now.”

  “Good. I’m starving. They gave us hummus and pretzels on the plane, and only after I ate the entire thing did I see that the hummus expired four months ago.” Daphne places her hand on her rumbling stomach. “So anyway, was it good?”

  “Excuse me? Was what good?”

  She lifts a brow. “You know exactly what I’m asking.”

  Pressing my lips together, I inhale through my nose and contemplate my answer for all of two seconds.

  “It was incredible.”

  “My girls!” Aunt Rue rises from the table when she spots us, dropping her napkin on her plate and rushing to Daphne’s side. “Look how much you’ve grown, my goodness. You’re so tall now. And you lost all that baby fat just like I knew you would.”

  Daphne and I exchange looks before sitting down, both of us trying not to laugh. Aunt Rue’s compliments are notoriously offensive.

  “I knew you’d be a looker,” Aunt Rue says. “Both of you are. My Demi is too. It’s the Rosewood genes, I’m telling you. We’re very blessed.”

  Rue was Miss Florida Universe 1967, a title she wears proud still to this day. A few summers ago, I caught her passed out in her hammock by the pool one night, crown on her head and a spilling strawberry daiquiri in her hand.

  “But I’ll tell you girls,” she says, sitting down. “Looks fade. And they fade fast. One day you’re strutting down Hollywood Boulevard getting cat-called by Marlon Brando and the next day you’re shopping for push-up bras and mourning the loss of your perky caboose.”