by S. L. Scott
He sighs so heavy that I’m surprised he has any breath left. “Fuck that, Delilah. If I’d known—”
“See, that’s just it. It seems by your reaction that neither of us did.” I rest back on my palms. “I’ve gone over this a million ways to Friday and never could make sense of it. But here’s the thing, I gave up trying to reason my way to explain things years ago.” My directness is unsettling. I’m used to sitting in my farmhouse alone at night and not having to answer to anybody anymore. Why confide true emotions to Jason? Why now? “Upheaving the past won’t change things now, so I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“I’m glad you did, but I want to know why you’re so upset. I’m sorry things happened the way they did, and I didn’t come to you, but you broke up with me and not the other way around.”
“I broke up with you because you broke my heart.”
“I had a full scholarship when I couldn’t afford college. I had to take it if I wanted to graduate, so how did I break your heart exactly?”
My mouth drops wide open as anger rushes through my veins. Shifting, I narrow my eyes in shock. “Really?” What the hell? How can he not remember something that’s scarred me for life?
“Yeah, really?”
I’m too wound up to sit still. I stand, walk off the dock into the grass, and start pacing under the same moon that hung high in the sky that first night I lost the love of my life. When I turn back, to possibly answer, I’m stunned into silence. His expression is one of pure curiosity as he watches me. “You don’t get it, do you?”
“No, but I want to.”
My emotional artillery falls like the walls I’ve built to protect myself. How can I stand here with weapons loaded when he sits there unarmed? The curiosity in his eyes renders him blind to our history. Does he really not remember? Something is off. For someone who’s guilty, he sure looks innocent.
“Wait a minute,” I start, tilting my head to the side while still staring at him. “Do you not . . . know?”
“No. I never did.” He doesn’t understand how much he hurt me . . . oh, my God.
My heart thumps in my chest, and I take a deep breath to help stop the erratic thoughts filling my head. “You hurt me, Jason.” He hurt me.
“How?”
One word stops my pacing. “How?”
“I loved you.”
Loved . . . My head is spinning, my thoughts whirling with all the angles I thought I had covered regarding our breakup years earlier. Sitting down on the grass, I look at the man he’s become. He’s still so much the man my heart misses. Could I have had it wrong all this time? The years we lost . . . they form a lump in my throat, but I manage to ask, “You weren’t going to break up with me when you came over to tell me about the transfer, were you?”
He looks up at me, his head shaking so small as if the pain still affects him. He appears so . . . troubled, so sad, and I feel the same. He looks me straight in the eye. “No, Delilah, I wasn’t. I was going to ask you to marry me.”
10
Jason
I don’t like to lie.
I’ve spent the past four years living in an abundance of them—for my protection, for the protection of others, protecting secrets and lives.
In Solace Pointe, I want to live in the truth. I want to feel the warmth of sunshine instead of sneaking around in the cover of night. Here, I can breathe.
But something about Delilah Rae steals my breath and my heart just from being close to her again. Even when her mouth is gaping open by an admission I promised myself I would never confess. Pushing off the splintering wood of the dock, I stand and toe my shoes off. It’s time for a diversion. Drastic measures need to be taken, and if I get to see what’s under that dress, all the better.
My socks and belt are stripped away, piquing her interest as she arches an eyebrow. Her mouth is open for other reasons, it seems. My plan of distraction from telling her my deepest secrets is working.
I unbutton my shirt and drop it to the pile of clothes gathering at my feet. Reaching over my head, I tug the T-shirt off as well. I’m not shy, but she’s looking at me like she’s never seen a man half undressed before. “Do you go out much?”
“No,” she replies defensively. “Why?”
“No reason.” I slide the zipper down slowly, giving her a show, and step out of my jeans.
“Why are you undressing?”
“I’m going for a swim to cool off. Even though the sun’s down, it’s a warm night. You should join me.”
“No. I haven’t been in that lake since . . . well, since we were a thing.”
“A thing?” I might be pushing some buttons, but I can’t deny I like her being so open with me.
“Dating, Jason. You know what I mean.”
Apparently, I still know how to rile her up. I’ll have her in there before she has time to decide otherwise. “I liked being a thing with you. How about we try it, you know, while we swim?”
She crosses her arms. “I’m not skinny dipping with you.”
“Why not? Are you scared?”
“Scared?” She scoffs. “Hardly. I’m just not a teenager anymore.”
“Oh, sorry for mistaking you for someone who likes to have fun.”
I start on the waistband of my boxer briefs, but she says, “Wait. What are you doing?”
“Haven’t we already covered this?” I push them down, and she’s up and turning on a dime.
Her back may be facing me, but from where I stand, I can see her hands covering her face. “I swear to God if you’re naked right—”
I dive into the water. It’s cold but not cold enough to make me want to get out. When I break the water’s surface, I shake my head. My hair clears from my eyes only to find hers on me.
“I can’t believe you just jumped in,” she says.
“I said I was going for a swim.”
With a hand perched firmly on each hip, she’s riled up all right. “What about our date?”
“Are we on a date, honeysuckle? I thought we were just talking?”
“You’re so infuriating, Jason Koster.”
“I love when you say my whole name like I’m in trouble.”
Her eyes squeeze closed, but a smile follows along with her stance softening. “Old habit.”
“What about old times? Come on in.” This time, I can see the debate—her eyes flashing between the water and me, then behind her like her father’s going to catch us. “It’s only us. No one has to know.” I zip my lips and wait.
“I’m not scared, if that’s what you think.” The debate is over, and she comes back onto the dock, looking down at me. “If you think I’m stripping down in front of you—”
“There’s not an inch of your skin that I haven’t seen, or licked, or tasted, Delilah Rae. So that dress, although pretty, doesn’t erase the memory of what’s under it. But I won’t force you.”
“Fine.” Yup. She’s riled up all right. “I’m coming in.”
Mission Distraction is complete. She peels off that dress like it offended her and without an embarrassed bone in her body, she stands on that rickety dock in a mismatched bra and underwear as if I didn’t think she was already the sexiest creature to walk this world.
Wriggling her hips, she asks, “Like what you see, Koster?”
“I sure do. Now get in here, Noelle.”
She jumps in, and I swear she cannonballs on purpose to splash me as if that will cool down what’s heating up between us. What she doesn’t seem to understand is I love her moxie.
I temporarily lose her in the dark water even though the moon rises higher with each minute that passes. Her head finally pops up, and she wipes at the hair stuck to her face. A wide, carefree grin caters to her expression, and she laughs.
“Feels good, right?” I ask.
“It does.” On her back, she swims away, keeping her eyes on me. “So, now that you got me in here, what are you going to do to me?”
Tease.
I lunge forward to s
wim after her. She squeals and takes off into the moonlight-speckled waters. I reach her feet, grab her kicking ankles, and pull. This beauty lands right in my arms, bridal style, and I hold on to her flailing body until she settles, and her laughter softens. Her breathing deepens when our eyes meet, just as mine does. But I can’t will myself to laugh, to enjoy the moment, or to say anything at all.
My bravado a minute earlier gets caught in my chest, and I look at her while exposing my inner thoughts. She can still bring me to my knees with how she looks at me like I hung that moon in the sky. It’s the opposite of what she’s said, the pain she’s shared. If I can only make her see my side, I could . . . I could what? What do I want with her?
The physical attraction we always shared still exists, the chemistry still surging between us. Why did I come here? To make amends or to hear her side? She’s shared the lies Cole told her. It’s time for me to make her see the truth.
I caress her slick skin, well aware that these curves are dangerous when wet.
“Jason?” she whispers.
“Mm?”
The playfulness returns to her eyes as her hands grace my shoulders. “Why are you holding me?”
“I don’t have a good reason.”
“Nothing at all?” Hope mixes with a coyness I’ve missed. It didn’t matter how many times we made love when we were together, she always blushed for me right after.
“No reason other than I want to hold you again.”
A look of relief crosses her sweet face, and her legs dip under the water. Then they make their way around my middle. “It would be bad if we kissed.”
“Would it?”
“So bad.”
“I never claimed to be good.” I pull her body against mine and lean in, closing my eyes. Our lips touch, and our breaths still. Our bodies float with minimal effort. A touch turns into a caress, and I press harder, needing to feel her lips against mine again. Needing all of her against me again. God, I’ve missed this.
Her.
Her kisses.
Her breath mingling with mine. Her soft body against my hard one. No woman ever felt right, and now I know why. She was made for me. But before we get in too deep, she pulls back, leaving me breathless and turned on as she swims to the other side of the dock. “It’s getting late, Jason. I think we should call it a night.”
I swim a bit longer, watching as she climbs up the ladder, thinking she needs the reprieve from me. She grabs her dress and slips it over her head, leaving the side unzipped. Coming to the edge, she peers down at me. “Whatever that was, we can’t do it again.”
There’s no fight in her words, but more of a casual request on her part. “Why not?”
“I’m not in my right mind when I’m around you. Add in wine and it’s not wise.”
“Not wise for who? You or me?”
She slips on her shoes. “I blame it on the moonlight.”
“The moon is an innocent bystander. It’s the sunlight we need to be wary of. The light of day often reveals more truth than we need to know.”
“Maybe. Guess we’ll find out soon enough.” She takes a shaky breath. “You’re quite familiar with leaving, so you can see yourself off the property.”
Ouch. “That’s it?” I ask, waving my arms through the water.
“Yes. That’s it.”
She starts walking away, so I swim to the ladder and get out. “I can drive you back to the house.”
“I know my way.” She waves over the back of her head. “Thanks for dinner.”
“You barely ate.”
She doesn’t turn back this time or respond, and I’m standing there confused, not sure what went wrong. The kiss? The conversation? The confession? Fuck that. This isn’t the Delilah I once knew. She never ran from her problems. Is that what I am? A problem for her?
I grab the blanket and with everything inside, pick it up and set it in the back of the truck, except the wine, which I take with me. While trying to put my boxers back on, I hop from one foot to the other toward the truck to take off after her. She’s not gotten far, but far enough for her not to hear me until I’m much closer.
Flashbacks of our breakup and her stubborn side whip through my mind. I’m not going to let that get the best of us again. This time, we’re dealing with our issues head-on. I pull beside her, driving at the pace of her stride, and then hold the wine out the window in offering. “I have half a bottle of wine to kill. Care to join me?”
Taking the bottle from me, she takes a swig, and then says, “I know what you’re doing, Jason Koster,” before storming off again.
Driving again, I hang my arm out the window, dividing my attention between her and the where I’m going. “What am I doing, Delilah Noelle?”
She stops again, and points at me. “You’re trying to get me drunk.”
I put the truck in park and lean my elbow on the door. “Why would I want to do that? And since when do two glasses of wine get you drunk?”
“I don’t drink much anymore, but you wouldn’t know that since you’ve been off doing only God knows whatever you’ve been doing.”
Is it me or the wine that’s wound her up so much? “Hop in and I’ll drive you back.”
“I don’t want you to drive me back. I’m perfectly fine with the stars and this wine.”
“If you’re so fine, then why do you sound mad?”
She stills, her chest rising and falling with her feelings trapped inside. I know her. I remember all her moods and swings that maneuvered her through them. Delilah was never a girl to complain and always dealt with everything straight on, but she’s not her usual self. She’s holding back, and I hate it. Popping the door open, I step out—wet boxers and all—and lean against the truck. “Talk to me.”
“I can’t.” Her shoulders fall in defeat. When the silence becomes uncomfortable, she brings the bottle to her lips, but I catch it and lower it back down. Her eyes have lost some fire that always burned bright in the past. “We broke up. That means you have no right to make demands of me.”
“I never wanted to break up, Delilah. I never wanted to make demands of you. I just wanted you.”
“But you left me,” she whispers.
Why does she feel I left her? I left when she started dating Cutler. I may have put distance between us with the transfer, but my heart stayed behind. “I’m back. I’m here now. What do you think about us ignoring the past for tonight and just enjoying our time together?”
“Is that because you’re only giving me tonight?”
Fuck it. I can’t hold back around her. “No, it’s because I’d take all your time if you let me, but I don’t think you’re ready for that.”
“What am I ready for?”
“That kiss you wanted earlier.” I move in and close the space between us. This time, our lips don’t just touch, they crash into each other’s. Her arms loop around my neck, and the bottle bumps against my back. I slide my hands down the sides of her wet dress, feeling those dangerously sexy curves. Just when I feel her resolve slipping, I reach around my back and take the bottle from her.
Our lips part, and she whispers against my lips, “I hate that I missed you so much.”
“There’s nothing wrong with missing me. I missed you more than you’ll ever believe.”
A smile that endears me even more to her every time I see it appears. Leaning back, she looks into my eyes while keeping her arms securely around me. “Try me.”
“Let me show you.” I drop the bottle to the ground and kiss her.
And then I kiss her again, cupping her face in my hands and holding her to me. This time, our kiss is gentle, a familiarity in the feel and flow of the movement. Our lips part, and our tongues reunite with a soft caress and then more, going deeper as if staking claims that can be staked without repercussions. We both know that can’t happen, but in this kiss, we pretend it can. We pretend we can do this like we used to, and the outside world doesn’t exist.
Backing her against the truck, we con
tinue to kiss, and her hands roam my backside, holding her against me. This time, I pull back, and say, “Let me take you home.”
Physically, I have no way to hide my body’s reaction, but I’m thinking she likes the feel of me. She holds my ass, and says, “I bet my sister I wouldn’t sleep with you.”
I chuckle. “As much as I love a good cuddle after sex, I love to win a bet more. No sleeping together then.”
“What? No.” I hear the plea in her tone as she wriggles against me.
“Oh, don’t worry, honeysuckle. When I say sleeping, I mean the slumbering kind of actual sleep. I plan on keeping you wide-awake all night.”
A smile slips into place, and her head falls back with laughter. “You always knew the way to a woman’s heart.”
“I might want your heart, but tonight, I want everything else.” Nodding toward the cab, I step back. “The mosquitoes are brutal.”
Taking my hand, she says, “Let’s go back to the house.” I walk with her around the truck and open the door. When she’s safely inside, I jog back around and steer the truck, getting us back to the farmhouse quickly. When I cut the engine, the sounds of the cicadas surround us again, the light from the front porch barely reaching us. She looks over at me, and at that moment, I can see something so tragically beautiful in her eyes. How could anyone hurt her like he did?
She pops the door but doesn’t rush to get out. “Would you like to come in?”
“Do you want me to come in?”
“Yes.” That’s all the go-ahead I need. We meet at the tailgate with my boxers soaked through the fabric. The wet cotton of her dress also clings to her body. “What a fine pair of drowned rats we are.”
She reaches for my hand, and I take it, but I also grab my clothes from the blanket in the back before we walk across the lawn. Suddenly, all the fun is gone, and we’re left with the questions we should have asked and answered back on that dock. Her fight has slipped into the night, and as much as I want to have sex with her, there’s too much to work through to put ourselves at risk again. The quiet between us is unnerving, the doubts coming back, so I stop on the porch just as she enters the house. “Delilah?”
