by Erika Kelly
He breathed in the scent of her shampoo—like an expensive perfume—and felt the swish of her silky hair on his bare arms.
Her hips shifted, her pelvis grazing his hardening erection, and instead of pushing back, she gazed up at him with a goddamn look in her eyes that burned through whatever was left of his discipline, because he knew that just one lick of her lips would make him lose it completely.
His arms hooked around her back, his hand pressing the top swell of her ass. That mouth, wet from her tongue, parted with an invitation he didn’t know if he could resist.
“You’re a good man, Will. Misguided, but good.”
“Misguided?”
That sexy mouth turned into a mischievous grin. “Yeah. You really are.” And then the connection snapped when she withdrew her arms and turned back to the counter. “I’ll see about finding somewhere else to stay in the morning.”
“Delilah?”
When she turned to him, he knew. He didn’t want to let her go.
“All the chefs are staying on the ranch so they can take the train into Owl Hoot. The choice is yours, obviously, where you want to live, but the invitation is still open for you to stay here.”
Will wasn’t a stupid man. He knew something good when he saw it. And Delilah Lua was a gift. She brought a lightness and joy to this house it’d never had.
And, even if it was only for six weeks, he and Ruby would damn well take all she had to offer.
* * *
On three and a half hours of sleep, Will bounded down the stairs, ready to train. He might’ve slacked off for a couple of weeks, but it wouldn’t take much to get back into shape.
Amped with the kind of determination he hadn’t felt in years, he laid out his day in his mind. Run, protein shake, shower, gym. He’d spend two hours working on the trampoline, backflip burpees, plyometrics, weights…fuck, yeah.
Yesterday, he’d hired one of the coaches on Fin’s staff to train him exclusively. This guy traveled with his brother on his wild-ass freeriding adventures, so he was in good hands.
Used to particular noises in the mornings—Marcella listening to NPR or the whir of the blender, Will got a hit of surprise at the music blasting from the kitchen.
In the middle of the living room, he faltered. Delilah and Ruby shook their asses to Pharrell William’s Happy. Ruby mimicked Delilah’s every move, her little bottom bopping side to side.
Delilah’s long, white-blonde hair whirled like ribbons, and her radiant smile hit the striking surface of his heart, igniting his blood. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Like some kind of fairy, she sprinkled her inner joy on every moment, making the mundane vibrant and extraordinary.
He needed to get going, so he made his way across the living room, but then he heard that squeal of delight. “Wheel.” Little feet slapped on the hardwood floor as she ran straight to him.
“Dance wif me, Wheel. Dance.” She gazed up at him with those glittering, adoring eyes.
An unwanted memory slapped him hard. He’d been no older than five, giddy with happiness to see his mom walk in the door. He’d run straight into her legs, hugging them for all he was worth.
He’d felt pure elation to have her home…until she’d looked at him like he was a dog that’d just rolled in moose shit.
He would never forget that feeling. Like she’d punched him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. At the same time, though, he distinctly remembered pushing through the uncomfortable sensation that he’d done something wrong just so he could get into her arms. Anything to get that hug.
She’d tried to walk away, her foot giving a little kick, as if to flick him off, and then she strode into the kitchen, dropping her shopping bags on the table.
The thing was, Brodie, Gray, Fin? They’d just kept playing with their Nerf guns. It was only Will who’d wanted too much.
And it had creeped her out.
He’d creeped her out.
He had to make sure Ruby never felt like that, but she also needed to understand that he worked for a living. How did he draw those lines in a way that a two-year-old understood them?
He dropped to a crouch. “Ruby, I have to go to work now.”
“Wun, Wheel. C’mon.” She reached for his hand, turning toward the kitchen.
“No, Ruby. You didn’t stay in bed last night, remember? That means you can’t run with me today. If you stay in bed tonight, you can come running with me tomorrow.”
That little face scrunched up in confusion.
He knew what Delilah was thinking. She doesn’t remember last night.
She’s lost and alone. She needs you.
Or maybe that wasn’t Delilah at all. Maybe that was his heart. “But I’ll be back in four hours and we can do something fun then.”
He started to get up, but she shouted, “Go wif you.”
He thought about the therapist’s advice. Stay firm. Give her a hug, and then walk out the door. Just be sure to follow through with your promises.
“I’ll be back at ten.” Fueled by the expert’s advice, Will stood and headed toward the door. He got about two feet when the volume went back up and a hand latched onto his wrist. With Ruby in her arms, Delilah spun him around. “Dance with us, Will.”
When he opened his mouth to object, she said, “Two minutes out of your schedule.”
With her hair loose and the red Cornell T-shirt draped over her hips to cover her ass, Delilah looked fierce and wild and free.
And he wanted her more than he could ever remember wanting anything.
“I don’t dance.” But even as the said he words, he started moving.
Ruby’s eyes lit up, and she hurled herself at him. He picked her up, and she bounced in his arms, jabbing her fists into the air. This girl was pure, raw, unadulterated happiness.
And he loved it. Loved her joy, loved…
Loved that she’d chosen him. Damn. He couldn’t explain it, but he did.
Something popped in his chest, heat gushing out, and it struck him that he’d been on autopilot for a long time—maybe as long as seventeen years. That structure his dad and Coach imposed had been his lifeline, and he’d latched onto it with both hands.
He’d clung to it all these years because it had paid off. He’d won the World Games seven times.
But…what else had he done?
He’d never once asked himself that question.
Until Ruby and Delilah had entered his life, his highest high had been his love for his family, and his lowest low had been the loss of his dad. Other than that, he didn’t think he’d had much of an emotional life.
These two crazy girls, both laughing with total abandon, kicked him into overdrive. And as much as he knew he should walk away and get on with his training program, his heart couldn’t find a single reason not to dance with them.
Two minutes out of your schedule.
Yeah, he could do that. He reached for Delilah, the three of them connected, touching, dancing in place. Locked together on this wavelength of music, happiness, and deep, unbridled affection.
And then Ruby wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face right in the crook. Her breath hot, her fingers pressing hard into his skin, she held onto him like…well, like a scared little girl who needed a hug pretty desperately.
The hug he’d denied her while trying to teach her some kind of life lesson.
Emotion swept through him, so hard and high he thought it might knock out his knees. He let go of Delilah and wrapped both arms around Ruby’s frail, little back.
Swaying in place, his body heated up. His heart thundered. Damn, this little girl. He wanted to give her the world. Every single thing she could ever need, but that wasn’t the way it was going to work for her.
He should let her go. He visualized handing her off to Delilah and walking out the door. Imagined his feet hitting the trail, his arms pumping…and yet he let his hand sweep across her back. Let his eyes close. Let himself just hold her.
Her
whole body relaxed against him, and she let out a sigh so deep her little body shuddered with it.
He had to find a balance, right? Between giving her love and letting her get too attached. Because what would happen if he kept hugging her and holding her and reading to her and snuggling in bed with her…and then he just left? Walked out the door and didn’t see her for months. What would happen when he handed her off to Fin?
What the fuck would happen then?
She’d feel rejected. Ha. Rejected. As if that word came close to describing what it felt like to have the person you count on leave you. Destroyed. That’s how he’d felt when he’d finally figured out that every time the phone rang, every time tires rumbled on the driveway—it just wasn’t going to be his mom wanting to be with him.
He had to find balance, yes. And that meant making sure she didn’t get too attached. “I have to go.” He pulled back, but she only clung more tightly. He’d danced with her, given her a hug. He’d shown her he cared. And now he had to show her he had to go to work.
He gave Delilah a look. Help me.
She stepped in, put her hands on Ruby’s waist, but his sister clung to his T-shirt. And as Delilah got a better hold on her, Ruby started kicking her legs out like she was frantically trying to swim back to the lifeboat that was slowly drifting away.
“Go wif you.”
Pain scraped him raw at the sight of her wild-eyed and hurt, and he turned away from them and hightailed it out the door.
He had no fucking idea what he was doing, but making his sister cry was a total fail.
What the hell did balance mean?
Was he ever going to get this right?
Chapter Eleven
After the incident with Ruby that morning, Delilah had thought for sure Will’s heart had finally cracked open. She’d expected him to be softer, more open.
Nope. Four hours later, he’d come home from training with an intense focus and a clear agenda: read one book to Ruby, take a ten-minute shower, dress, eat, and sort through the stack of nanny applications.
Maybe she should’ve left him alone, but Ruby’d been as giddy as a puppy dog when he’d come in through the mud room door, her little bottom swinging as she’d toddled over to her big, sweaty brother.
Delilah had seen his expression, and she’d known in an instant it wasn’t going to go Ruby’s way, so she’d caught up with the little girl, both of them running toward him with their sticky, chocolate chip cookie dough-covered hands. His stern demeanor had fractured the slightest bit.
To his credit, after he’d gotten some work done, he’d hung out with them and, when she’d asked where he thought she might get figs for the hors d’oeuvre she’d decided to make, he’d offered to take her to this hydroponic farm.
But now, while she followed the owner through the three-story vertical greenhouse, she glanced at Will, hanging back, arms crossed over his powerful chest, and she realized she needed to figure out her own transportation from now on. He not only doesn’t want to be here, but he doesn’t have the time.
He’s training, for God’s sake.
“In our facility, we produce as much as a five-acre farm.” The owner gestured to the three-story conveyor belts filled with bright green plants, the tomatoes just starting to turn red.
She took it all in. “This is amazing.” The motor purred quietly, and the humid warehouse-size room smelled like herbs. “I learned about hydroponic farms in culinary school, but I’ve never seen one.”
“You haven’t lived at sixty-three hundred feet above sea level before,” the owner said. “As Will can tell you, our winters are brutal and can last all the way into May. Once a big storm hits, there goes our truck deliveries. With this facility alone, we can produce one hundred thousand pounds of fresh produce annually, using ninety-percent less water with no need for soil, and we take up way less land space.”
As he led them further down the way, she smiled at Will. “Doesn’t it smell good in here?” The basil grew alongside the tomato, making her mouth water for caprese.
“Plus,” the owner continued. “The growth rate’s thirty to fifty percent faster than a soil plant, and the yields are much greater.”
“I can’t believe you’re growing figs.” Of all things!
“Well, that’s a funny story. I certainly hadn’t planned on growing them, but they’re my wife’s favorite. She grew up with a fig tree in her backyard, so she’s been on me to give it a try here. It’s working, and we’re getting a surprisingly good response to them, so we’re growing even more.” They’d reached the end of the warehouse. “How about we head into the tasting kitchen so you can sample some? I’ve got some other produce for you, too.”
“I’d love it.”
“Great. Let me get a head start. You look around, and I’ll see you there in a few minutes.”
“Perfect. Thank you.” As soon as he left, she turned to Will. “I can’t believe this. Thank you so much for taking me here.”
His expression remained shuttered.
“I didn’t think I stood a chance of pulling off this dish.”
He nodded. “Glad it worked out.”
Okay, he was obviously pissed that she’d wasted half his day. “We can skip the tasting room. I know you have a meeting with your coach and want to get back to Ruby. I don’t need to taste the figs before I buy them.”
“Ruby’s at the park with my uncle, and I’m not meeting my coach until four. Besides, I’m pretty sure you do want to try them before you buy them.”
Busted. She wouldn’t serve them without sampling them, so buying dozens only to find out they were tasteless would be a waste of time and money. “Well, I’ll make it quick. I know you don’t want to be here.”
He shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not pissed?”
“Not at all.” It was the confusion in his tone that convinced her.
“Okay…” She exhaled. “I’m just…I’m used to very expressive people. I know what everyone in my family’s thinking all the time. With you…I don’t know.”
The owner stood in a doorway, smiling at them. “Looks like my wife got it all set up, so we’re ready when you are.”
“Awesome. We’ll be right there.”
He ducked back out, leaving them alone again. “I feel like I’m always pissing you off.” They made their way to the end of the row of conveyor belts. “I made you dance this morning, and now this farm…”
“I offered to bring you here.”
“Because I don’t drive. I just hate not knowing what you’re thinking.”
He reached around her to hold the door open, and then they started down a long hallway. “I’m thinking that I don’t have time to drive you around town.”
“You just said—”
He stopped, bracing his hands against the wall, caging her in. “I’m thinking about Freefest, and how fucking important it is that I get my head on right, that I focus and visualize and do all the things I need to do so I don’t die on that mountain.”
God, that look. So intense. Electrifying. “I don’t want to be a burden. I can get around by myself.”
But he didn’t look at her like he was pissed or annoyed. No, with his nostrils flaring like that, he looked like he wanted to use both hands to rip her dress wide open and drop his face in her cleavage. And she wasn’t entirely sure she’d stop him.
Her pulse fluttered out of control, and desire streamed through her.
He lowered his mouth to her ear, his voice deep and husky. “But it doesn’t seem to matter what I’m thinking, because it doesn’t stop my heart from feeling funny when I watch you talking about produce with a dude wearing toe shoes. It doesn’t keep me from realizing that I’ve known a lot of women in my life but none of them—until you—has ever surprised me. It doesn’t seem to matter that I’m really good—and I mean expert level—at blocking out distractions and staying focused because, somehow, you’ve tangled up my wiring. I’m supposed to be thinking about my thrust o
r my amplitude or page thirty-six in How to Raise Your Orphan Sister, but I can’t concentrate because you keep getting under my skin, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”
His chest was right there—close, but not touching. His mouth, a whisper away, and her body yearned for him to close the last inch of distance between them.
“I can’t stop from breaking into a run every damn afternoon, so I can get home to you. I hold my breath because I want to open the door and find you in the kitchen and when you’re not there I hate it. I could easily hire some high school or college kid to drive you around this summer. Maybe get you a scooter—anything so that I don’t have to do it, but I will be goddamned if I let someone else be the one to take you places. That’s for me. That’s my gift.”
Every cell in her body opened up and started singing and clapping to a gospel tune. But she was in a hallway, and the farm owner was waiting for her. “Well, that must be very inconvenient for a man like you.”
He smiled, and it was like a bright yellow dandelion pushing up through a crack in the cement. It floored her. “You have no idea.”
“If it helps, you’re not my type.”
He stepped close enough that his body brushed hers, and she could smell the sun in his cotton T-shirt and the fresh mountain air scent of him that drove her wild. “No?”
“Not at all. You’re too disciplined. Too…tidy.”
“Would it help if I…” He brought both hands to his head and messed up his hair.
She laughed because it was short enough that it couldn’t really get messed up. “A little.”
“How about if I got some ink. Like maybe a sunburst right here.” He brought her hand to his chest, just slightly off-center.
“And ruin that perfect skin?” She shook her head. “Besides, it wouldn’t matter what you did. I like a man who can surprise me. Not someone so regimented that I can predict—”
His strong arm wrapped around her back, and he hauled her to him, pressing his warm, soft mouth on top of hers. And then he kissed her.
It was so good, so unexpected, that she practically soared right out of her body. Her pulse quickened, and she had to squeeze her hands into fists to keep from scraping them through his hair.
