Dating Delaney

by K Larsen

  Once she’d come out showered and dressed, I got a much better look at her. She had serious curves that suited her well. Her t-shirt clung to her ample chest and tapered into a slender waist where her hips flared slightly. Her jean skirt hugged a delicious-looking rear end and her legs were muscled and shapely. She had great legs. Her attitude was a different story, though. She seemed to flip between hot and cold instantly--either that or I brought out the worst in her. She seemed flustered and irritated at me for trying to lighten the mood with an innocent joke. Oh well. She’s a client. Nothing more. Three weeks and I’ll be on to the next job. I don't mix business and pleasure anyways. I pop open one of the old wooden windows at the front of the barn.

  “Bob! Start bringing up the scaffolding,” I shout down to the driveway. Time to get this party started.

  Delaney

  After Amelia left, I threw on running capris, sneakers, and a tank, and headed out for a run before it got too hot. Two miles into my run, I gave up. My legs wouldn’t cooperate with my body. I couldn't stay focused or get my mind into it so I slowed to a walk as I thumbed through my playlist looking for something to motivate me. My thoughts kept perpetually wondering about Mr. Attractive. Mr. Attractive is annoying...and hot. No…really hot. Why am I thinking about him, anyways? This is dumb, Laney. After not finding anything suitable to get me going, I switched direction and headed home in a half-assed jog.

  “Delaney?” A muffled shout comes from the house somewhere. Crap. I switch off the fan in the bathroom and listen.

  “Delaney, you here?” comes the shout again.

  I wrap my towel around me and crack the bathroom door. “In here!” I yell. A moment later, Jake appears in the kitchen entryway. I’m still in a towel with the door cracked but that doesn't stop his eyes from traveling the length of my body. His gaze is intense and heated and my heart instantly starts thumping wildly in my chest.

  “Did you need something?” I ask, hoping like hell that I’m not red and splotchy from my blush. His eyes shoot to my face instantly and lighten.

  “Oh. Yeah. Ah, where are the windows for Claire’s room?” he manages in a croak.

  “In the storage unit. Let me get dressed and I’ll show you,” I answer, reveling in the fact that I apparently get him going.

  “Okay,” he says but lingers for a moment before I just decide to shut the door.

  I close the bathroom door and quickly tug on my clothes. After an application of mascara and lip gloss, I run a brush through my hair and headed out to show Jake to the storage unit. I pulled the big locking arms in opposite directions to swing open the shipping container doors we were using for storage while construction was happening.

  “You normally shower twice in four hours?” he asks playfully.

  “What?” I ask before thinking. “Oh, ah no, I went for a run after my sister left,” I mumble.

  “You run?” he asks and something in the tone of his voice sets me off.

  “Yeah, why?” I clip.

  “No reason, just didn't peg you for a runner,” he says honestly.

  “And what exactly does a runner look like?” I bite out. God, this man is infuriating. He should insert his foot into his mouth and leave it there... forever. I suddenly giggle at the mental picture of him hopping around on one foot with the other stuck in his mouth while trying to swing a hammer. Cleary I have issues.

  “I wasn't trying to offend...what's so funny?” He’s eyeing me curiously now. Great.

  “Nothing,” I say, wiping the smile off my face. “So, what does a runner look like?” I ask again, a little less bitchy this time.

  He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I don't know, long and lean and no curves. You know...” He doesn't get to finish before I rip into him.

  “Long and lean and no curves?! Are you saying that because I have tits and an ass that I can't run?” I bark, offended.

  He starts laughing. Not just a little. A lot. At me. What. The. Fuck.

  “What?!” I crow, throwing my hands up in front of me and moving away from him.

  “You said ‘tits and ass,’” he chokes out. Those dimples jump out again. They’re really hot. Hearing him say tits and ass makes me want to laugh. It sounds ridiculous. I stifle my giggle though and put my hands on my hips. “Well. I run. Windows are there.” I point to the three windows that will be going in Claire’s room and turn to leave.

  “Wait! Delaney, I’m sorry. I think we’ve gotten off to a bad start. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.” He sounds mostly genuine.

  “I’m not usually offended easily. I’m sorry. Don’t worry about it,” I tell him.

  “When will Claire be here?” he inquires.

  “Ah, tomorrow afternoon, but... why?” I question.

  “Well I’d like to get her opinion on the design portion of her room if that’s okay with you,” he states. What? Why on earth would he want her opinion on anything? What a strange, strange man. I seriously don't understand him.

  “I don't make it a habit to let my seven-year-old have much of a say in the design of our house, otherwise, I’d end up living in a Disney princess castle,” I retort. His brows knit together and confusion crosses his handsome face.

  “What?” he asks.

  “What?” I say, not understanding what he’s asking.

  “Wait,” he asks, “who’s Claire?” It dawns on me that he didn't realize Claire was a child, my child.

  “Who did you think Claire was?” I question.

  “Another sister? Roommate? I don't know,” He shrugs, still confused. I laugh. “Amelia’s enough sister for me. Claire is my daughter.” I can see the next question cross his face but I know he won't ask it. “I’m divorced,” I answer his unasked question.

  “Right.” He nods. I shuffle my feet around for a moment before deciding to get the hell out of the storage unit. How awkward.

  “‘Kay, well... see ya,” I call over my shoulder.

  “Yeah,” he responds.

  I plop down on the couch, grumbling about how I don't look like a runner. Figures he’d make a crack at my figure. Ugh! Why can’t I be stunning? Gorgeous? Whatever. It is what it is. I’m not, I’m just average I guess. The familiar whistle of my phone rings through the air. I grab it off the coffee table and check my messages.

  Molly’s text lights up my screen.

  Still on for tonight?

  Yup. 8 Right?

  .

  Yes.

  I toss the phone back to its resting spot on the table and push off the couch to tidy the house up a bit before getting ready for girls’ night.

  Jake

  Country music is blaring from downstairs and I can hear Delaney shuffling around and humming along as I pack up for the day. Country music. Again, a surprise. She definitely caught me off guard today. A mom, a runner, and a country music fan. Based solely on appearances I would have guessed a preppy yoga Gap girl, definitely not a mom, and pop music.

  “Hey,” I call out. She jumps, a little startled. My lips twitch as I fight a smile. Could she be any more adorable?

  “You scared me!” she says as she twirls around to face me.

  “Sorry. I’m just about done for the day,” I answer.

  “Oh, okay, great, well... see you tomorrow, or are Sundays off?” she questions.

  “No, no, I’ll be here tomorrow, not until around noon though,” I answer. She’s got a dust rag in one hand and a bottle of Pledge in the other and she’s staring at me. It’s cute. She looks like a deer caught in headlights, innocent and wide-eyed.

  “Delaney?” I prompt.

  She sucks in a quick breath. “Oh. Right, okay, so, noon tomorrow, that’s good... you all woke me up this morning,” she says.

  “I noticed that.” I chuckle. A blush creeps up her neck, making her chest pink.

  “Right,” she clips. I stand there trying to think of something to say so I don’t have to leave just yet. Why am I stalling?

  “So, a fun night of cleaning? That’s some
Saturday,” I stammer. God, I am really hitting an all-time low today with the wit. She narrows her eyes at me for a moment but then surprises me.

  “No. I’m going out tonight,” she informs me. I can feel my eyebrows rise and a grin forming.

  “Yeah? Good plans?” I prompt.

  “Ah, just hitting the Old Port,” she answers casually. She doesn’t sound excited about it. I wonder why. Maybe she has a boyfriend. Or maybe she doesn’t drink.

  “Sounds like a good time,” I offer.

  “Should be,” she says, leaving me no reason or room to further our conversation.

  “Okay, well, have a good night,” I answer and turn to leave.

  “See you tomorrow,” she says and goes back to dusting the dustless desk.

  I finish loading up the truck fifteen minutes later and head home. It must be nice having parents willing to build you a house, in Cumberland no less. Judging from the finished portions of the house, she’s probably spoiled. I bet she doesn't even have to pay rent to live there. I can't figure out if she's snotty, snippy, or just shy. But, if I’m honest with myself, I want to find out. There’s something about her that makes me want to prove all my theories wrong. I want her to be different. I pull onto the dirt driveway leading to my house and my phone chirps. I read Owen’s text and quickly reply.

  Pool & beers tonight?

  Time and place?

  Foreplay Nine

  Typical Owen. We’ve been best friends since the first day of first grade. He works hard and plays harder and although I could really use a beer, I’d rather put my feet up while having it. But I ignored Owen last night and he won't let me ignore him tonight too so I guess I’m going out. Owen and I used to have a lot of fun running around the Old Port in our younger days but at thirty-six it doesn't have the same appeal as it once did. Once in a while is all right, though. Better than sitting at home alone. However, Owen seems to show no signs of slowing down, he loves picking up girls at the bars. He also loves using me as his wingman.

  I run a hand through my hair wishing I could be in bed by nine instead of going out. I had one hell of a day. I have just enough time to make some dinner, shower, and get dressed before having to head downtown to meet him. I drop my tool bag in the hallway and head to the kitchen.

  “How’s the new job going?” Owen asks as he hands me a beer.

  “The job will be the easy part, getting through the next three weeks with the owner will be the hard part,” I toss out.

  “Oh? Another well-to-do, wants-to-be-overly involved, middle-aged, bored housewife?” He laughs.

  “Har, har. No, this one’s a bit different,” I say nonchalantly.

  “Care to elaborate?” He racks the balls and shoots me a look.

  “It’s the daughter. Her parents own the house but they’re converting the garage barn into a house for their daughter and she’s...” How do I explain her?

  “Hot?” Owen perks up at the prospect.

  “Well, she’s attractive, yes, but she’s standoffish and I can't figure out why,” I admit.

  “Probably thinks you’re just the hired help, jobs in Cumberland right?” he states bluntly. I sigh and mull it over. I don't really get the impression that she thinks she’s better than me but maybe that’s it. “I don't know, she seems guarded, not stuck up,” I explain.

  “Well a challenge is always fun.” He waggles his brows at me and I laugh.

  “I’m not you,” I say pointedly. “Now move so I can break.” I lean over the table, cue stick in hand, and line up my shot. A good clean break: three balls in, two stripes. “Stripes,” I call.

  Owen mumbles something unintelligible and takes his turn at the table. I wander to the table to grab my beer and notice a group of girls standing near the bar. A tall blonde one cackles loudly and snorts some beer at someone to her left who I can't see. Everyone in the group looks to be enjoying themselves. They also aren’t over dressed or look like they’re twelve, which is a definite plus.

  “Must have been pretty funny,” Owen says at my side. “Never seen a girl snort beer before.” He grins and eyes me.

  The whole group is doubled over with laughter when she catches my eye. Delaney is standing with the biggest, brightest smile to the left of the blonde. Her dark jeans hug her body just right and she’s wearing a cream-colored billowy halter top that has some flowers at the hem that sparkle in the light. She turns just slightly and my breath catches. The tank is knotted at the nape of her neck and the fabric drapes open, leaving her back exposed to her jeans. There’s a tattoo low on her left shoulder blade that runs down the side of her back but I can’t make it out from here. Yet, again I’m surprised: she doesn't look like the kind of girl to have one. Her dark brown hair looks silky and hangs half way down her back in shiny, soft waves. It’s a complete one-eighty from our run-in this morning. She’s so stunning that my dick twitches in my pants. I wonder if she would talk to me if I approach her.

  “Dibs on the white tank top,” Owen says, nodding at Delaney. Crap. There is no way in hell I’m letting Owen anywhere near her.

  “Pick a different group of girls,” I say flatly.

  “Why? They’re good looking and laughing, they look like fun,” he pushes.

  “You called dibs on my new client,” I inform him.

  Owens head whips around. “That’s the bitchy one?!” he squawks.

  “I didn't call her bitchy,” I defend myself.

  “Whatever man, she’s hot. Let’s go say hi,” he says. Knowing that he’s never going to give up now, I let him head over alone.

  “No. She told me she was going out tonight, she’ll think I’m following her,” I call to him as he saunters their way.

  “Grow up, man,” he says over his shoulder to me.

  Before I can say anything else, Owen’s already three strides away from me. Shit. This isn't the night I had planned at all. If she didn't hate me before she’s definitely going to hate me once Owen injects himself into her life. I’ve yet to meet a single woman who doesn't instantly know a player when they meet one and Owen is a player.

  Delaney

  “You what?!” Molly crows at me wide-eyed.

  “Yup, in all my morning glory I crashed right into Mr. Attractive’s chest and then proceeded to feel him up while trying to figure out what I was face-planted in,” I explain. Ginny cackles loudly and in the process snorts beer which sends us all into a fit of laughter.

  “Stop laughing at me. It’s not THAT funny,” I whine and stomp my foot, turning slightly to face Molly.

  “Oh, yes it is. That. Is. Classic. Only you have the worst luck when it comes to guys. Seriously Laney... the outfit alone would have been enough but you face-planted in him to boot AND checked yourself for drool!” Molly snickers. I stare into my beer bottle silently cursing my terrible luck in love. Yup. I have the worst luck of the bunch.

  “Well, I’ll just be happy when the dormers are done and life goes back to normal,” I lament.

  Ellie pats my back. “Oh come on, it won't be that bad, at least he’s nice to look at right?” she offers.

  “Oh he’s hot all right.” I tip back my beer and chug some. I don't need hot. Hot is distracting. But I don't have a choice now. He’s been hired.

  “So,” Becca pipes up, “how’s the book coming?”

  “Ladies,” a good-looking man calls to us, “can I get anyone refills?”

  I roll my eyes. Girls night out always includes a little flirting, sure, but generally we just want to be left alone to catch up, laugh, and dance. Everyone else has men at home and this is our night out away from them...well, for them anyways. Ginny, of course, pipes right up. “You buying for all of us?” she asks and raises an eyebrow at him.

  “Sure thing. What’s your poison?” annoying Player Man asks. She eyes us as she tells our new overly direct friend, “Five Coronas.”

  “Coming right up,” he says and saunters to the bar with Ginny in tow. I can’t help but laugh at her. She’s definitely got balls a
nd that’s mostly the reason that I love her. What you see is what you get. It’s refreshing.

  “The book’s coming along, I need to sit and focus more on it this week,” I finally reply to Becca. When I get no response I look up from my bottle and find my friends blatantly staring at something.

  “Delaney.” A deep voice comes from behind me. Becca’s eyes light up and Ellie’s narrow at me like I’m keeping a secret from her. I turn to the side and moan.

  “Jake. Hi,” I say over the noise of the bar. Jake jerks his head toward the bar. “I see you’ve met Owen already.”

  “Huh?” I ask.

  “The one buying you all drinks I’m sure,” he replies. Oh. Great. That’s his friend. Bleh. Aren't you supposed to be able to tell a lot about a person by the company they keep? Jake’s probably a player, too.

  “Yup. Guess so,” I say snottily.

  Molly nudges me. “Uh, Jake this is Molly, Ellie, and Becca. Ginny’s at the bar with your friend. Guys... this is Jake,” I introduce.

  Molly leans closer to me. “Mr. Attractive?” she loudly whispers.

  Jake laughs and eyes me. “Mr. Attractive?” he questions.

  I’m sure my face is scarlet now. Ellie comes to my rescue...sort of. “Laney gives all guys nicknames. You should hear some of the ones for the guys who’ve taken her on bad first dates!” she explains rather excitedly. I groan again and wish I could either go home now, or be inexcusably drunk so it wouldn't matter and I wouldn't remember come tomorrow.

  “Interesting,” Jake says, grinning. “I guess I should be happy with Mr. Attractive then, yeah?” he asks. Ellie and Becca nod at him and smile like idiots.