by S. L. Scott
“Date, not wife.”
“Again. Ugh. Why’d you have to go and ruin it? I’m going inside.”
I leave the guys laughing in my wake. Inside, I grab the iced tea container from the windowsill after noticing the deep, bright color it’s turned from steeping in the sun all morning. Jason comes in the back door just as I finish filling two large glasses.
“It’s not sweet,” I warn.
“That’s okay,” he says, coming to me. “I haven’t had sweet tea since I moved away from here.” He licks the side of my neck. “And you’re sweet enough for me.”
“Ahh,” I sigh, giving him easier access. “And sweaty.”
“I know. It’s fucking sexy as hell.” His hands wander as my eyes dip closed.
“We shouldn’t,” I whisper in all the ways that counteract how I’m feeling.
His breath breezes across my skin when he whispers, “You sure about that?”
He makes it hard to tick through my list of chores, much less even remember what they are. “I have so much to do.” I tug him closer.
“I want to do you.” His voice is muffled as he sucks on my neck.
Anxiety takes over the pleasure, and I push back. “Jason, stop.”
Shock and hurt run across his face as we’re forced apart. “What?”
Realizing too late what he must think, I move closer again, reaching to close some of the distance. He takes my hand, clasping it between his. I whisper, “No. No. I don’t mean this. Or us, but if you leave a mark . . .” I stop myself from continuing that thought for worry of upsetting him.
“If I leave a mark, so what? Who’s going to care?” It dawns on him before I can answer, and his puzzled expression hardens. “Because of Cutler?” He knows the answer without me filling in the silence. “It’s none of his fucking business what we do. He’s your ex, Delilah. He doesn’t have a place in our lives, much less a say.”
Gripping the counter behind me, I’m not scared of Jason. His kind heart always puts me front and center, but I am worried about him. The one person who could push Jason too far is the one who would love to do it. Revel in it, in fact. And I’d lose Jason all over again because let’s face it. Cole would never survive an encounter with Jason if it came down to it. I have no doubt about that. “I know. I just don’t want to incite him. If he sees a hickey on my neck, he’ll flip out, and who knows what he’ll do.”
“The fuck?” Wild eyes stare into me as his hands fist at his sides. I’ve never seen him this angry and never at me before.
“You don’t understand. You weren’t here when tiny things would set Cole off. I was. Alone.”
“You’re right. I wasn’t.” He grabs the door and walks out, leaving me standing there with my mouth open. He’s never been afraid to take a conversation head-on. This isn’t like him, not how he usually is with me.
I hate that I’ve upset him, but years of brainwashing still rears its ugly head sometimes. I run out the front door just as he approaches his truck. Catching myself against the porch railing, I ask, “Where are you going?”
“I need my bike.”
“Don’t leave. Please.”
My words or maybe the plea in my tone stop him. With his back to me, he says, “I need to take a ride and clear my head.”
“Jason, look at me.”
When he turns back, his soulful eyes reveal such pain, and I hate that I’m the cause of it. Again. “I’m sorry I upset you. I don’t want any more trouble with him. I just want you. Please don’t be mad at me.”
His shoulders lose their tension as he returns to me. He stops on the bottom step like he did that first day he showed up here after the rain. His respect for me has been shown in many ways. We may have moved fast once we reconnected, but he took each step with care for my feelings. Even now, he remains a few steps lower. He doesn’t try to intimidate me like Cole. Jason humbles himself before me, and it’s a genuine sign of respect I’m still getting used to.
We also still have so much to discuss—our wants, our needs, our new dreams for the rest of our lives, but when we do talk, he communicates with me, not over me. “I’m not mad at you, Delilah. We’re not fighting. I’ve been here every day like I live here, and reality just hit me. We can play house and pretend, but this isn’t my farm. And as long as you’re worried about him and how he’ll react to my presence, it’s as if you’re not really my girl. I’m not giving you an ultimatum. I’m here for you however I can be, however you want me to be. I don’t care if I lose to him in football or in a fight or whatever. That’s all shit that’s built on ego and pride. But when it comes to you, I can’t be second to him. I won’t be. Not again.”
“You’re not. You never will be.” I move down until I’m equal in height, in standing, a partner, not a queen who needs her subjects to bow before her. Equal in all ways that matter. I keep my hands to myself, but it’s a struggle when all I want to do is caress that furrowed brow until the tension is released. “You never were. I don’t want him near you. I don’t want you hurt.”
“How many times do I have to tell you I can handle him?”
“He’s not the same person you used to know. You moved past the glory days of your football years. He didn’t. Two things matter to him—his ego and me—and you’ve effectively taken both from him since you came back.”
“You’re divorced. He can’t hold on to you anymore.”
“He’s an alcoholic with a gambling problem. He didn’t want the divorce. I petitioned for it after I got a temporary restraining order. The judge granted me a quick divorce, but that restraining order was lifted the same day because the good ole boy judge admired Cole’s football record.” I can’t stand the space separating me from the man I love. Even inches are too much to bear. I hate that Jason has come home to this. To me, with this dreadful baggage. “It’s not a matter of if he’ll try to get me back or hurt me. It’s when. And I don’t want you caught in the crossfire.”
He finally breaches the divide, holding me without pressure. “I’m not afraid. He can come after me as long as he doesn’t come after you. I won’t let him hurt you, Delilah. You’re my everything.”
My heart beats erratically in my chest. The immense amount of love I have for him has always been set to its own frequency. Taking this stunning man by the jaw, I hold him in my hands. “Were you always this foolish?”
“Only for you, honeysuckle.” We kiss, and I sigh, melting against him. “I might pay him a visit to put things to an end.”
“He’s not a reasonable man.”
He winks. “I have ways of helping him see the light.”
“Do I want to know what that means?”
“No, it’s better if you don’t. It’s safer that way. In the meantime . . .” He kisses my neck. “Want to go for a ride on my Harley?”
Now that is an offer I can’t refuse. “Absolutely.”
23
Jason
The wind whips around us. The road’s wide open. I could keep riding. I could steal her away from this life that’s holding her back. Would she stop me?
Would Delilah want to keep going or turn back?
We’re both caught in a whirlwind we can’t control, and it sucks. I know she loves me. She doesn’t have to tell me, though she does often enough. She shows me. I see it in her pretty blue eyes. I feel it in the way she touches me and how she cares for me.
I love her.
Goddammit, I love her so fucking much. I’m an asshole for lying to myself for so long. I pushed any thoughts of her, memories, and emotions that threatened to surface back down, in no place to deal with something that always ended without her.
I won’t take this second chance for granted. I won’t lose it either. I’ll protect her. I’ll protect this relationship so it can set when we take our last breath. Not a second sooner.
I cover one of her hands with mine before returning it to the handlebar. Having her on my bike, wrapped around me, was yet another fantasy I never thought would happen. Here we
are, though. Trust in me to care for her—to keep her safe—has been handed over without question.
Delilah took the helmet and put it on before I had a chance to insist on it. “Share this piece of you with me,” she said. An hour later, we haven’t made it far, but we’ve crossed county lines. I veer onto a small, hidden-from-the-highway dirt road. I don’t think she’ll remember when I brought her here back in college, but it felt like a good time for a revisit.
The river comes into view, and I love the sight of the mountains with the gray and purple of twilight. We dismount, and she sets the helmet on the bike before wandering toward the edge. “You brought me here a few times. I always remembered the beauty but could never find it without you.”
“Why were you looking for it?”
Standing at the water’s edge with her back to me, she says, “I thought if I could find it, it would lead me back to you.”
When her head tilts down, her shoulders shake with a sob that seems to come from out of the blue. I know it’s just been building inside her, though. I go to her as she covers her face with her hands. Holding her from behind, I whisper in her ear, “My heart was always with you. Our beat was just silent until I returned.” I move around to hold her as she cries on my shoulder. “I’m not mad at you, honeysuckle.” Stroking her hair, I whisper, “And I’m not leaving.”
She looks up, the tears that puddle on her lower lids running over. “For now?”
“I’m thinking about forever. What do you think?”
Her smile—small and full of insecurity—is not one that should ever reside on her face. “Do you mean that?”
“If that means staying on the farm or moving to somewhere new, I want to be with you.”
She sighs, her tears finally drying as she wipes away the last of them. “There’s so much debt, Jason. It’s already dragging me down. I can’t saddle you with it.”
“Remember how I wanted to talk about money?”
“Yes, but I didn’t.” Moving to the water’s edge again, she crosses her arms defensively over her chest. I wish she knew she didn’t have to be on guard with me about anything. She glances back at me over her shoulder. “I may not have been the one who grew that debt, but it’s mine to erase and basically impossible. Every time I feel pride in what I’ve accomplished there, another bill arrives to remind me of my failures.”
She stands there as if she has to take on the world on her own. “I’m right here with you. I’ll help however I can, but that means we have to discuss it openly. Every dirty detail of the debt needs to be exposed. It’s the only way we can tackle it.”
“Money brings out the worst in people. It’s not something I want to include in our relationship because eventually, you’ll be drowning just like me. How would I be able to live with myself if I did that to you?”
That’s not the Delilah I know. She’s never been one to focus on the negatives, but after what I’ve learned regarding the human condition, she’s right. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“I don’t know anymore, Jason. I just know that my dad died trying to pay it off, and Cole thrived on building it up. Neither had a good outcome.”
“I’m not Cutler. As for your dad, he shielded you from the hell he was living in to protect you. I love you, Delilah. Let me help you end this burden.” We remain next to each other, letting any discomfort evaporate into the beauty of nature.
“How?” she whispers so softly I almost miss it under the sound of the wind brushing across the top of the water.
“I’ve been thinking about our future and the farm. I have money—”
She’s shaking her head before she speaks. “I’m not letting you spend your money on the farm, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“Wow, I didn’t even get the offer out. Is it pride that keeps you holding so tightly to a sinking ship in the face of a life raft?” I take her hand, and despite her unease in the conversation, her fingers lace with mine. “Tell me, Delilah, what if I want to help?”
A heavy sigh prefaces her head tilting to lean on my shoulder. As if the wind inspires her, she turns to me. “I don’t know what kind of money you made or have, for that matter. It’s not something I’ve thought about since you came into my life.” She shrugs. “I think I thought you returned because you were just like me and everyone else in this town, living day-to-day. But more importantly, whatever money you have, you have more than earned. You were shot. You’ve done unimaginable things for that money—”
“Is it too dirty to use it for a good cause?”
She scoffs with a ridiculously adorable grin as the sunshine enters her eyes, causing her to squint and finally face me. “I’m not that high and mighty, Jason. I meant that you’ve had to sacrifice so much to earn every dollar.”
“Everyone who works makes sacrifices.”
“Usually not with their life.”
“I didn’t think I would, but shit happens. Things go wrong. Bad people sometimes get ahead, but they don’t win.”
“What happened to them? I know one died.”
“They all died.” The confession doesn’t shake her, her expression remaining one of indifference. I walk to the edge of the water and squat down. Picking a weed, I rub it between my fingers before tossing it to the ground. “You have more questions, so let’s just address them and move past this.”
“Why did that note from Cruise say Eric on it?”
“Because it wasn’t from Cruise. It was from my old . . . boss, a friend. Acquaintances. I don’t know what to call them. I consider them friends and allies more than anything else.”
“So it’s like an inside joke?”
“It was an alias at one time.”
“Eric,” she repeats, trying out the name. “You chose Eric. It doesn’t suit you.”
Chuckling, I ask, “And Jason does?”
“Yes. To me, it’s just a part of who you are. Like Cuddle Bear.” Laughter escapes her sweet grin.
I huff. Am I ever going to live that down? “You can call me that if you like.”
She bumps up against me playfully. “Okay, Cuddle Bear.”
Wrapping my arms around her waist, I ask, “Anything else you’re wondering about?” Digging the toe of her shoe into the ground, she keeps her gaze lowered. “What’s wrong?”
“When you tell these stories about being shot or working on movie sets, I feel like you’ve lived a whole lifetime without me. You went on adventures and saw the country. You lived a life I thought I’d be sharing with you. I worry I won’t be enough for you. That you’ll get bored and—”
My eyes widen. “You feel left out because I was shot?”
That earns me a half smile. “Not that. You know what I mean.”
“Nothing compares to being on that farm with you no matter where or how far I traveled. If I could change things, I would. I would come back after college for you.”
“You swear?”
“On my life.”
“No, not on your life. I’m not willing to risk that.”
We start walking along the bank. “Okay. On Cutler’s life.”
She bursts out laughing. “That shouldn’t be as funny as it is.”
“You have a dark side, Ms. Noelle.”
Elbowing my side, she says, “It’s from hanging around an assassin.”
“Let’s go with bodyguard. It’s fitting. So you successfully avoided digging deeper in to the topic of finances, but I also wanted to talk to you about something else.”
“All right.”
“I know you’re recently divorce—”
She startles, catching me off guard. “Oh, my God. Are you going to ask me to marry you?”
“What?” A hand flies to my hair, and I run it through. “No. Wait. I mean—” The heartbreak on her face does me in. I rush to cup her face in my hands. “Why are you crying? Don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you meant you were going to ask me.” She looks away, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “Forget i
t. Forget I said anything.”
An ache grows in my chest at seeing the pain on this woman’s face. “If you’d say yes, I’d marry you right now.” Beautiful eyes the color of bluebirds peer up at me. She wears her heart on her sleeve for everyone to see. It’s battered like mine but filled with so much love to give. “I would.”
“I’m a recently divorced, almost bankrupt farmer in the middle of nowhere. My spirit has been bruised along with my body. I have a lot more scars than I had when I was wearing that Freeland County tiara. I feel older than my years because of them. And here you come, riding back into town, and screwing up my plans of being a spinster for the rest of my life.”
“You know why? Because when I heard you were single again, all the plans I made suddenly seemed secondary. Scars don’t scare me. I have a lot of my own. As for your divorce, I say this is my lucky day. It’s as if Cupid himself had a say in the matter. I also think you’re more stunning than the day we fell in love.”
“Which time?”
“Both. Age doesn’t hold a candle to your beauty. But who cares if we get lines and both age if we’re living a good life and growing old together?” Taking her by the hips and wiggling them back and forth a bit, I say, “I’m not sorry about ruining your plan to grow old alone.”
“Why are you so good to me?”
“Because you deserve good. Lots of it, and I intend to give it to you for the rest of your life.”
“I love when you give it to me.”
Leading her back to the bike, I say, “Speaking of giving it to you . . .”
With my ass pressed to the leather, Delilah slides down my erection. Once she’s fully seated, her head falls back, and her hair sways across my thighs. When she tilts forward, she says, “I will never get tired of how good you feel inside me.”
Fuck. “Show me how good I feel to you.”
“So good,” she rasps, rocking her hips on top of me.
My stomach muscles tighten from the sound. “I’m not gonna last long, babe.”
She moves faster, her eyes closed, her nails digging into my shoulders. “Don’t come yet. I’m so close.”
