“They’ve got energy,” Luca remarks after a while, his eyes on the kids.
“That they certainly do.”
“How long have you been watching them?”
“About four months. Since…”
I went broke and needed a job. Any job. Even one a thirteen-year-old is qualified to do.
“Huh.”
I glance at him. “What?”
“Nothing, just would’ve figured it was longer.”
“Why do you say that?”
He pauses. “Because of how much they love you.”
I scoff. “Don’t be silly. They don’t love me. They like me, certainly, but that’s as far as it goes.”
“Delilah,” he whispers, so softly I have to lean in to catch it. “Why is it so hard for you to accept the idea that someone might love you?”
“It’s not about that.” I dismiss his words, as if they don’t affect me in the slightest. “I’m just a babysitter. A next door neighbor. It’s not like I’m their Mom or their crazy aunt or their nanny. It’s not like…”
“Like what?”
“It’s not like I’m their—” My voice catches. “Like their big sister, or something.”
Luca is silent, digesting my words with care. I haven’t told him about Mimi, so there’s no way he could know why talking about big sisters feels like a knife to the gut. And yet, he’s so keenly observant of my every nuance, my every nervous tic and bad habit and withheld word, it doesn’t surprise me to see his eyes are full of questions. As if he knows there’s more to this story, that there are things I’m not letting on.
He doesn’t push me. Not yet. But I know he will one day, at exactly the right moment, when my defenses are down and I’m least expecting it. He’ll look at me with those eyes that cut through all the bullshit, straight to my soul, and he’ll ask about her…
And I’ll answer, even if I don’t intend to. Because Luca Buchanan knows the value of words. He times them to perfection and never wastes them on anything irrelevant. It’s an impressive quality, albeit a worrisome one; it does not bode well for my ability to keep anything secret from the man.
I stare at Harry and Potter, feeling my lips tug up as I listen to their joyous giggles echoing across the park. It’s almost the summer solstice, still light despite the fact that it’s well past six in the evening. We should head back home soon, but they look so happy on the swings I decide to give them a few more minutes.
When the silence starts to feel heavy, I clear my throat.
“Do you have siblings?”
“No.” Luca glances at me. “Not as far as I know, anyway. My parents weren’t exactly in the picture.”
“Oh,” I murmur softly.
“I shared a few foster homes with different kids, over the years, but those placements never lasted too long. Closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister is Zoe, and she’s gone now.”
My heart aches for him. I never really considered the fact that when Parker West swept into town and simultaneously swept Zoe Bloom off her feet, taking her away from Boston in favor of adventure on the high seas, she left Luca behind without anyone else to call family.
Is he lonely? I wonder suddenly. Can a man like Luca, who has the whole world at his fingertips — money, women, fame — ever truly be alone?
I don’t have to look far to know the answer to that question. I may’ve been raised in the lap of luxury, but I’ve always felt like an outsider with my own flesh and blood. Mimi was the only one who ever understood me, and she’s long gone.
“I’m sorry you lost her,” I tell him, meaning it.
“Don’t be. I’m not. She literally sailed off into the sunset with the guy of her dreams. Me wishing she was here would be the same as me wishing she didn’t get her happy ending.”
“That’s assuming there’s only one path to a happy ending.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Aren’t you the one who assured me there’s more than one way to find your bliss, that there are plenty of different routes to reach the same destination, that no one cares how you run the race, only that you cross the finish line, yada yada yada?”
His face twists in amusement.
“What?” I ask, defensive.
“Wasn’t aware you were listening.”
“I always listen.” I pause. “I might not always agree with your bossy, macho-man antics, but I always listen.”
“I’m not bossy.”
“Riiiight, and I’m not about to be evicted.” I shake my head. “Didn’t realize you were also a card carrying member of the Living In Denial Club. Meetings are every Wednesday, followed by light refreshments.”
He grins at me, a flash of white teeth and dimples, and the sight makes me feel a bit light-headed. “You’re funny. Didn’t know that about you.”
“Humor is one of my chief attributes,” I say, slightly offended that he hadn’t noticed.
“Sass, maybe. Knew you were sassy from the first minute we met. But funny is a different story.” His eyes are warm on mine. “Learning all kinds of new shit about you today.”
My brows go up. “Such as?”
“For starters, there’s a whole lot of substance beneath all that style you’re constantly flashing around.”
I open my mouth to object but he cuts me off.
“Then there’s the fact that you’re incredibly stubborn, seeing as you need help more than anyone I’ve ever met, but continually refuse to ask for it.”
“That’s not—”
“You’re a bit of a mess, but you’ll never admit it.”
“I don’t think—”
“Plus, you’re a great fuckin’ kisser, with the softest hair I’ve ever run my fingers through and a mouth I could stare at all damn day, when it’s not spouting bullshit at me.” He pauses, voice going low. “I take it back. Gotta admit, kinda like your bullshit, babe.”
“You are the most—”
“And that’s not even taking into account that you’ve got a cute dog and want kids and can make me laugh.” He grins at me again, the bastard, but his eyes are deadly serious. “Gotta admit, when you add it all up, it paints a pretty nice picture, Delilah.”
Shit!
“He’s not even technically my dog! And who says I want kids?” I snap, latching onto an issue at random.
“You want kids.”
“Oh? You’re psychic now?”
“You love those twins.”
“Love?” I shake my head. “Like I said before, the twins are fine. I guess. If you like kids, that is. Which, I’m not even admitting I do.” I pause. “I mean, if I could guarantee that someday I’d pop out two just like those…” I nod toward Potter and Harry. “If I knew they were going to be that cute… maybe it would be a conversation.”
“Your kids will be cute.” Luca’s voice is absolutely certain.
“There’s no way to know that for sure. It’s all a big genetic clusterfuck, if you ask me. Might as well pull traits out of a hat at random.”
“Delilah.” He waits until I meet his eyes.
“Yes?”
“It’s too late.”
My brow furrows. “What’s too late?”
“The ice princess act. Not buying it, babe.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say haughtily.
His eyes glitter in challenge. “There you go again, trying to freeze me out for saying something real. Hate to break it to you — I have no problem with the cold. So you can act like a frozen-hearted bitch all you please, but like I said… not buying it. I’ve seen you.”
“You’re a lunatic, Luca Buchanan. Totally delusional.” I sit up fully and start to climb to my feet but his hand lands on my elbow in an iron grip and I find my progress halted completely. My eyes fly to his in alarm and indignation. “Let go of me!”
“In a minute,” he murmurs. “Have some shit I want to say to you first.”
“This is bullying.”
“No, this is me trying to have an honest fucking conversation with
you.” His hand drops away. “You’re not interested in that, fine. Not gonna force you. Not my style. But neither is seeing something I want and not going after it with everything I have.”
And what I want is you, he doesn’t add, eyes burning. Heaven help me.
My pulse is pounding. I know I should walk away, just to prove a point, but I can’t. I settle back on the grass and arch my brows.
“I’m listening.”
“Good.” He leans in and, like a repelling magnet, I lean away to maintain some breathing room. “I’ve seen the way you look at those kids, the way you care about your friends, the way you clean up your brother’s messes even when he doesn’t deserve your loyalty. I see you suffering through a shitty situation in silence, rather than bothering the people closest to you with your problems. I see you, Delilah. Didn’t before — when we first met, I’ll be honest, I assumed you were a beautiful piece of wrapping paper over an empty box.”
I huff.
“First second you opened your sassy fuckin’ mouth and flashed those big, beautiful brown eyes at me, I realized I was wrong. Rare, but it happens.” His eyes simmer with banked heat. “Guess what I’m trying to say is… I shouldn’t have judged you before I got to know you.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to distract myself from the dangerous somersaults my stomach is doing.
“Don’t worry about it.” I swallow. “I’m the one who’s acted like a colossal bitch to you, over the past few months.”
He doesn’t agree with me, but he doesn’t disagree either. We fall silent in a momentary truce — two almost-strangers under a tree sharing truths I’m not quite sure we’re ready to be sharing. But, as I’m coming to learn, that’s simply Luca: charging in full speed, one hundred percent effort, whether or not you’re ready for him.
Half-assed is not in his vocabulary.
(Evidently, neither is small talk or patience.)
“Never thought about it much,” Luca murmurs absently after a while, eyes on Potter and Harry. “Having a family. Being a father. Never had one of my own, so it’s hard to picture.” He pauses. “Seeing them, it’s easier. Makes me remember not every kid spends their formative years bouncing from foster homes to shitty shelters and back, before the system spits them out at eighteen to fend for themselves.”
I suck in a breath. It’s the most personal thing Luca’s ever said to me, and I find myself totally tongue-tied as a result.
Sure, my family isn’t perfect… most days, they drive me crazy. But at least I have one. I stare at Luca, lacking the proper words to comfort him. I have no idea what to say to him, whether I’m even entitled to ask him questions about a topic this intimate.
“Luca…”
His eyes find mine. “Don’t look at me like that, babe.”
“Like what?”
“Soft. Warm. Same look you give when you’re talking to an abandoned puppy or a shy little kid. The one that says you care.” His jaw clenches and a muscle leaps in his cheek. “Makes me want to do things to you I can’t do in a public place.”
I squirm a little.
“For a long time, I thought this world was so messed up it would be a sin to bring a kid into it. Like throwing an angel into the brimstones of hell.” His acerbic tone mellows a bit as his eyes hold mine. “Now, I think maybe it’s just a matter of finding the right person to walk through the fire with.”
“Well…” I steady my shoulders and take a breath, afraid to say the next words but knowing I’ll regret it forever if I chicken out. “I’m sure you’ll find her, someday. And… you’ll make a great father, Luca. You spent years protecting Zoe. You saved me the other night — hell, you’ve been saving me all week. Everyone you meet loves you on sight. Police officers. Mrs. Macomber. The twins. Even the dog loves you.” I shake my head at the puppy, snoozing on his legs. “It’s a little annoying, actually.”
“Might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He grins. “Besides the part about it being annoying that people find me likable.”
“I stand by that statement.”
“But you don’t find me likable.”
I flush. “Nope.”
“Uh huh.” He cuts a glance at me. “Except, here’s the thing… I think you do like me. In fact, after our moment this afternoon in your bedroom, I’m damn near positive you like me.”
“I’m positive you’re wrong.”
“Uh huh.”
“It was just a kiss.”
“Like hell,” he growls. “You kissed me back.”
I keep my eyes dead ahead. “It was a lapse in judgment.”
“Uh huh.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“Uh huh.”
“Say uh huh one more time, see what happens.”
He chuckles. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
“My panties are just fine, thank you.”
“I can vouch for that,” he reminds me lowly. “Saw them up close and personal.”
I scowl. “Can we not talk about my undergarments, please?”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Literally anything else.”
Because talking about that moment in my bedroom is giving me hot flashes.
“You think up a name for this guy yet?” Luca strokes the dog. “Or whether you’re going to keep him?”
I blow out a relieved breath at the topic change. “I have no idea. I guess I should probably stop calling him mongrel and monster and hellbeast, huh?”
“Probably.”
I pivot to face the puppy and stare at his slack-jawed muzzle. His doggie snores are leaving a dark puddle of drool on Luca’s jeans.
“Maybe I should call him Peanut. Or Pipsqueak.”
“Ironically?”
My brows lift. “What’s ironic about that? He’s a dachshund, right? He’ll only be what, like, ten pounds, fully grown?”
Luca stares at me with an indecipherable expression.
“What?” I ask, palms starting to get clammy. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Not to be the bearer of bad news, but this little guy isn’t a dachshund.” He smirks. “He’s a setter.”
“A what?”
“A setter.”
“Like, a trend setter? You are talking to a girl with zero canine knowledge. But sure, by all means, use pithy insider jargon I will not understand. That’s super helpful.” I roll my eyes.
He laughs. “This is an Irish Setter — smart, high energy, bred as a hunting dog.” His voice gets lower. “They usually top out around seventy pounds.”
“SEVENTY POUNDS?!” I scream so loud the kids look over at us from the jungle gym, where they’re taking turns on the slide.
“Sometimes more.”
“MORE?!”
“Delilah.” Luca smiles, head shaking. “Did you not notice how big his paws are?” He holds up one padded foot for me to examine. “They’re like hockey pucks. He’s gonna be big, I can already tell.”
“Shit!” I curse. “It was bad enough when I thought I had a purse-sized pooch to haul around with me. Now, I’m totally screwed.”
“No you’re not. I’ll help you with him.” Luca’s eyes get warm again. “I’m good with dogs.”
“That’s…” I swallow. “As nice as it is of you to offer, I really can’t take you up on it. You’ve done so much for me already, and I know you’re in the middle of training for your big fight next week. I’ve been enough of a distraction and—”
Speaking of distractions, Luca is no longer paying attention to my attempts to brush him off. He’s completely preoccupied by something in the street. I follow his gaze and see he’s watching a nondescript tan sedan drive slowly past the park with hawklike focus.
“Luca?”
“Shh.”
“No, I will not shh—”
“Delilah.” His voice is sharper than his eyes. He’s not messing around.
I fall silent.
Anxiety overtakes me as he shoves the
puppy into my arms and rises to his feet. With one hand, he reaches down to help me up; the other is busy pulling his iPhone from his back pocket. I’m too baffled to fight with him as he drags me vertical and starts snapping pictures of the sedan just before it turns a corner.
He curses as it vanishes from view.
“Luca, what is it?” I’m really beginning to freak out, now. “What’s going on?”
“Damn. Didn’t get a clear shot. There’s a partial plate, at least… it’s a start… should be enough for Nate to track it…”
“Luca!” I yell, starting to freak out. “Tell me what’s going on. Please.”
“Get the kids. We’re leaving. Now.” He looks more serious than I’ve ever seen him. “That’s the third time that car’s driven by while we’ve been here. Thought it was a coincidence the second time they did a sweep, but after getting a better look at them just now, I’m positive it was intentional.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t know who they are or what they’re searching for, but they didn’t look like locals. They’re clearly canvassing this park for something… or someone.”
My stomach flips uneasily, bad thoughts beginning to form.
Luca shakes his head. “Could be a sexual predator, could be something worse. Don’t think we should stick around to find out.”
Pulse pounding, I grab the phone from his hand and zoom in on the car window in the picture. It’s pixilated, too blurry to make out much at all… but the man in the passenger seat is definitely dressed in black… built like an ox… and bald as a cueball.
My heart drops into my shoes.
Because I have a sick intuition that I know exactly who’s in that car… and exactly who they’re looking for.
Me.
Chapter Ten
They say you are what you eat…. but I don’t remember eating a sarcastic, shoe-obsessed, prosecco-drinking shopaholic with commitment issues.
Delilah Sinclair, contemplating her most attractive qualities.
Luca simmers with quiet tension for the rest of the night — the whole walk back to Beacon Hill with the twins sandwiched between us on the sidewalk; the entire time I’m making macaroni and cheese in the Macombers’ gorgeously renovated two floor townhouse. He barely says a word to either me or the kids as we eat dinner, instead standing in the front room by the bay window with one eye on the street and a phone pressed to his ear. I catch a snippet of his clipped conversation when I approach with a bowl of macaroni and extend it in his direction.
Take Your Time (A Boston Love Story Book 4) Page 16
