by Stacy Finz
Ah, the hell with it. He couldn’t leave her without backup and continued across the easement.
“Excuse me, is there a problem here?” he asked loud enough to be heard over their dispute.
Delaney froze and turned a dozen shades of red. “Uh . . . no.”
“Hell yes, there’s a problem.” Robert’s face was also red but from anger. Colt thought he was a few seconds away from erupting.
He climbed the deck stairs and put himself between Delaney and her ex. “How about we take it down a notch?”
“How about you mind your own goddamn business?”
“Robert!” Delaney’s eyes widened. “What’s the matter with you?”
“What’s the matter with me? What’s the matter with you? You’ve been ordered by a court of law to stop using the Delaney Scott name, yet you keep using it.”
Delaney started to say something in response, but Colt held up his hand. “I suggest you go through your respective attorneys on this. What you can’t do is stand out here and disturb the neighborhood.”
“Fine.” Robert pushed his way past Colt. “We’ll go inside. No law says we can’t.”
Colt looked at Delaney for guidance. It was up to her. If she wanted to let her ex into her house, there was nothing Colt could do about it. But under the circumstances, he didn’t think it was wise.
“I don’t want you in my house, Robert.”
Good girl.
“I built this goddamn house,” Robert shouted, and tried to force his way in.
“Delaney said no, Robert. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Robert turned and glared at Colt. “Fine. But this is going to cost you, Delaney. Mark my words. You’ll regret it.”
Robert walked off in a huff and that’s when Colt noticed the jacked-up suit he had on. Ankle-length pants—they looked like they had shrunken in the dryer—with a jacket, wingtips, and no socks.
“What’s wrong with him?” Colt asked as Robert peeled off in his Mercedes.
“Besides the fact that he’s from Assholia?”
“No, his clothes. Did he borrow them from a twelve-year-old?”
“Hey, I designed that suit,” she said, obviously peeved by his comment. “I’ll have you know it’s the height of fashion.”
Colt made a face. “If you say so. But if I were you I’d stick to cargo shorts.”
“Oh, be quiet.”
One side of his mouth kicked up and then he turned serious. “I’m sorry he gave you a hard time.”
“He’s a moron. Thanks for stepping in. I was holding my own but I appreciate you having my back. You don’t think any of the neighbors heard, do you?”
“Nah,” he said. “I wouldn’t worry about it. He won’t come back later to harass you, will he?”
“I don’t think so. Before you’d gotten here I’d made my position clear. Without clarification from the court, I’m not doing anything. It would be too big a hit for my new company.” She opened the door. “Come inside and try on your shorts.”
“Okay, but I should get out of my uniform first.” He motioned to his gun, which he needed to lock in his safe.
He crossed over to his house, took a quick shower, and returned to Delaney’s a short time later. She had him come up to her studio and handed him the shorts.
“You can try them on behind the screen or in the bathroom.”
He opted for the bathroom and came out when he had them on.
“Stand up there.” She pointed to a little stage in front of a three-way mirror. She was bossy but he did what she said, feeling a little foolish.
“They fit great,” he said as she examined him with a discerning eye.
She stuck her fingers between the waistband of the shorts and his hips. Her hand felt good on his skin and he sucked in a breath.
“Yep, they do. I suppose if the designer thing doesn’t work out for me, I could make it as a tailor.”
“What are you talking about? These are the best damn shorts I ever had. Can you make me pants like these?”
She pretended to shudder. “I could. The question is why would I want to?”
“Because I’m a great neighbor and as soon as I change back into my jeans I’m taking you to dinner. The Indian place.”
“For most of the time I’ve lived here, you’ve been a lousy neighbor . . . whining incessantly about parking . . . bitching about my light,” she teased. “But I do like Indian food, so there may be a pair of pants in it for you.”
Colt enjoyed their banter. She didn’t shy away from giving him hell, which he liked. He sat in the chair next to her drafting table. “How long had Robert been here before I came over?”
“About twenty minutes. He’s probably still here ... somewhere. He drove up from LA.”
“Seems like a long way to come for a fight. Why not let the lawyers deal with it?”
“One of the reasons Robert’s a successful businessman is because he doesn’t take no for an answer. He wants the Delaney Scott name off merchandise that belongs to me . . . a clean break for his company. It’s confusing to consumers, especially since he has a new designer who will want to set a different tone for the house and put her mark on things.”
“It seemed pretty heated to me. He wouldn’t raise a hand to you, would he?”
“No. Never. We had our problems but never that.”
“You grew apart, right?” He figured there had to be more to it than that.
“Mm-hmm. So do we need a reservation at this Indian place?”
Nice subject change. “Nah. You’ve never been before?”
“I have; I just couldn’t remember whether you needed a reservation or not.”
He supposed that was his cue to get moving. “Let me put on my jeans.”
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” she called to him. “I want to change too.”
He got into his pants and beat her to the living room, where he snooped around until she came down. She had a lot of nice things and way too many throw pillows. He could tell a lot of time had been put in to decorating the place whereas his idea of decorating was putting in a sixty-five-inch flat screen.
“You ready?” She came down the stairs in another one of her killer dresses and, man, did the woman have a pair of legs.
He didn’t want to stare, so he held the shorts up in front of his face. “I just want to drop these off at my house. I’ll pick you up so you don’t have to walk up my driveway in your shoes.”
She had on high heels. He didn’t usually go in for stilettos, preferring a woman in a pair of hiking boots. But the ones Delaney had on—red, strappy things—would fuel enough erotic fantasies to last him a lifetime.
“Too much?” she asked, and looked down at her feet. “They go with the dress.”
“They don’t exactly scream Glory Junction, but they’re sexy as hell. Did you design them?”
“I did,” she said, and beamed proudly.
“They’re a hell of a lot better than Robert’s Pee-wee Herman suit,” he said.
She laughed but added, “What you know about fashion could fit in a thimble.”
“I’ll concede to that.” It was fun messing with her. She gave as good as she got, just like his three brothers.
He dropped the shorts off at his house, got his truck out of the garage, and stopped in front of Delaney’s house to pick her up. By the time they got to the restaurant he was starved. Luckily, one of the owners showed them to a table almost immediately. He ordered a plate of naan to hold them over.
“You hungry?” he asked Delaney.
“I am.” She toed her purse under the table and Colt was momentarily distracted by her red shoe and one very shapely ankle.
They got their flat bread, ordered, and watched as a steady trickle of people flowed in. They’d been fortunate to get to the restaurant before it had filled up. TJ came through the door, spotted Colt, and made a beeline for their table.
“Shit,” Colt muttered under his breath. He didn’t want his bro
ther giving him crap over Delaney, especially because this was the second time TJ had caught them together. His family was great, but they had an annoying habit of getting in each other’s business.
“Hey.” TJ came over wearing a grin the size of the Grand Canyon. Colt wanted to wipe it off his face. “What are you two up to?”
“Gee, we’re in a restaurant. Perhaps we’re getting a bite to eat,” Colt said, which only made TJ’s grin widen.
“Me too. Pickup.”
Good, Colt thought. The sooner his brother got it, the sooner he’d leave.
TJ grabbed the chair next to Delaney. “You have a good time white-water rafting with Colt the other day?”
“It was wonderful,” she said. “Initially I was nervous about it, but Colt made it seem effortless.”
TJ smirked. “Yup, you were in good hands.” He turned to Colt, who wanted to sock him. “We’re having a brief meeting tomorrow morning to talk about the races. Can you come?”
Colt shook his head. “Pond wants me to lead the police department’s team.”
“The police department doesn’t have a team.”
“We do now.” Anything Pond could do to get under Colt’s skin.
“Ah, Jesus.” TJ broke off a piece of naan and ate it. “He’s really trying to screw with you, isn’t he?”
Colt shrugged. Sure, it would break with Garner tradition to have him compete against his own family, but it was far from the end of the world. “It’s an amateur race. No big deal.”
“Don’t let Dad hear you say that.” Their father had founded the annual contest and to him it was a source of pride that GA won every year.
“He’ll get over it,” Colt said.
One of the owners came out of the kitchen with a sack for TJ.
“I better get going. Nice seeing you, Delaney.” TJ paid at the register and took off with his bag of takeout.
Delaney turned to Colt. “What do you think the mayor is up to? Is it possible he’s just getting into the spirit of the races and wants the city to be more involved?”
“The city has always been involved, just not the police department. I think TJ’s right; his intention is to mess with me. He knows I’m part of Team Garner every year. It’s a vindictive maneuver to get back at my family for rallying the town to support me over the picture on Facebook. It’s petty and stupid, but it’s easier for me to go along than fight it. And frankly, the police department should be involved. It’s a nice way for us to interact more with the community.”
“You’re a better man than I. As far as I’m concerned the mayor is a creep and I look to avoid him every chance I can.”
Their food came and Colt waited until the server left. “I know you said he made a move on you a while back. He hasn’t continued to pressure you, has he?”
“No. Once I made it clear I wasn’t interested, he acted like nothing had ever happened. What’s his deal, anyway? Has he ever been married?”
“Divorced twice, according to Carrie Jo. That’s all I know about his personal life other than the fact that he’s wealthy, or so he says.”
“You don’t believe him?”
Colt thought Pond had money, just not as much as he wanted everyone to believe he had. “I think he did well when he sold his startup. As far as how much he has in the bank, I don’t have any idea.” He didn’t really care, either, unless he was intentionally misleading the good people of Glory Junction.
They dug into their dinner. “Mmm. This is delicious,” Delaney said.
“I think TJ eats here four times a week.”
“What about your other brothers?”
“Win’s always training for a triathlon or some other competition, and eats accordingly . . . a lot of protein shakes and complex carbs. Josh eats Hannah’s food. She’s a great cook.”
“What about you?”
“I usually grab takeout or go to my parents’ house.” He knew that sounded lame for a grown man. “And you?”
“I buy a lot of prepared meals at the market. I know how to cook some but am usually too busy.”
“You having any luck with the designing?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “Absolutely nothing is working.”
“I wouldn’t say that. The shorts are amazing, Delaney.” He locked gazes with her, staring into her blue eyes, and the song “Galway Girl” went off in his head again.
“The shorts are basic,” she said. “Nothing too exciting as far as design.”
“Maybe not runway exciting, but they’re original. I’ve been wearing cargo shorts most of my life and your design is superior. The fit is better, the pockets more accessible without the bulkiness and boxiness, and the cut is more comfortable.”
“That’s because they were custom made to your body.” As soon as she said “body” her face turned pomegranate red. The color matched her hot shoes.
He wondered if she thought about his body as much as he’d been thinking about hers. She’d certainly gotten his size right. The shorts had fit him to a T even before she’d made the alterations.
“Even so, they’re damned fine shorts.”
“Thanks.” She blushed again.
“Just giving credit where credit is due,” he said, and continued to stuff his mouth full of tandoori chicken to keep from asking her back to his place. Best not to wind up like the guy in the song. By himself with a busted heart.
Chapter Ten
Delaney wanted to invite Colt in after dinner, but he seemed to be in a rush to get home. He was tough to read. Flirty one minute, almost standoffish the next. But she could tell he really had loved her gift, even if it was just silly shorts. He didn’t strike her as the type to make a big fuss over something if he wasn’t impressed.
She peeked out the window and the lights in his house came on. It was too early to go to bed, so she wandered up to her studio. The shades were coming on Friday, but as long as Colt was up she figured she could work a few hours. Before she knew it, she was cutting out a pair of pants similar to the shorts. He’d asked for them, so why not? It wasn’t as if she had any other ideas. And she’d quite enjoyed fitting him, touching all those hard-as-granite muscles. A lot of male models spent countless hours in the gym and still couldn’t attain a physique like Colt’s. She would bet he got his build from outdoor sports rather than working out in a fitness center. Doubtful he had room in his busy life.
Because she’d gotten the preliminary work done on the shorts, the pants took half the time. Before Delaney knew it, she’d finished the last row of stitches. She turned on the iron and carefully pressed her seams. It felt good to be working again, even if it was just for fun. Besides, Colt deserved her gratitude for coming to her defense and chasing Robert off the way he had. Not that Delaney couldn’t have done it herself. She wasn’t afraid of her ex or even remotely intimidated by him. Still, it was nice to have someone in her corner. Plus, having her handsome neighbor rush in like that in front of Robert had been good for her ego.
She put the last touches on the pants, playing around with the pockets to get them just right and reinforcing some of the seams. Rugged pants for a rugged guy. A guy she had nothing in common with. The list of their differences was a mile long.
She was an urbanite, while Colt obviously reveled in his small-town roots. He gravitated toward anything adventurous while her idea of daring was testing a new restaurant. She’d always aspired to be a famous designer and move to a glamorous city while he seemed perfectly content with being the chief of a small police department. Pretty wide gulf between them.
Still, she was a little fixated on him. She chalked it up to postdivorce infatuation, nothing more.
Holding the pants up, she liked what she saw. They were even better than the shorts. A nice silhouette. Slim through the hips and tight enough through the seat to showcase a fabulous backside. Excited, she grabbed the pants, went downstairs, dashed outside, and crossed over to Colt’s house.
It took a while but he finally opened the door in his box
er shorts and a heavy dose of sleep in his voice. That’s when it hit her that all his lights had been out.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
No shirt, just his Gerard Butler chest staring her in the face. And his hair sticking up on end should’ve been the opposite of hot. But somehow it worked for him and the temperature rose twenty degrees.
She took one look at his sexy, sleepy self, then at her watch, and flushed with embarrassment. Here she was on his doorstep at two a.m. in the same dress she wore to dinner. This could only look like one thing.
“Sorry,” she stammered, and started to go.
“Delaney.”
She turned around to face him and that’s when he kissed her. Soft and slow at first, then exploring her mouth with his tongue. Delaney leaned in, reveling in the taste and feel of him—so good—realizing that if she let this go any further, they’d wind up doing a whole lot more than kissing. But as he took the kiss further, tangling his hands in her hair and holding her head so he could go deeper, she let him. Then, somewhere at the back of her mind, good sense told her to stop, even though her body told her something entirely different.
She must’ve froze, because he stopped and dragged his hand through his hair, visibly confused. “You want to come in?” That’s when he spied the pants she awkwardly held in her hands. “Ah, jeez. Did I misinterpret what was going on here ... you coming over here like this?”
“No . . . yes . . . I got caught up making these and lost track of the time.” She shoved the pants at him and covered her face, mortified.
“Hey.” He gently pried her hands away. “No worries, just a small misunderstanding. We’re all good.” Colt tugged her inside and maneuvered her toward the couch in the living room. “Take a seat.”
“Just for a minute. Just long enough to apologize.”
He glanced at the pants, surprised. “You made these after we got home from dinner?”
She nodded. “I hope the light didn’t disturb you.” The light? How about her banging on his door at two in the morning? “Sometimes I get so immersed in what I’m doing it’s like a trance.”
