“Oh, really?” She laughs. The twinkle in her eyes indicates she’s enjoying this.
I nod. “The black against your pale skin is striking. And don’t even get me started on the obvious.”
“Which is?”
“The way the fabric hugs your body and accentuates your tits…” I pause and bring my hand to her breasts. Without asking for permission I grope her right tit and squeeze. I let out a groan as the electric current from her warmth travels straight to my cock. “It’s going to be nearly impossible for me to be on my best behavior.”
“Xander,” she lets out in a throaty voice.
“Consider yourself warned, sweetheart.”
“Tsk. You could have at least waited until we offered her a glass of wine and some appetizers before you spread it on so thick,” Ethan scolds.
I shoot him an I-told-you-so look. “Why should I hide how I feel about her?”
“You’re not the only one who’s dying to claim her again. It’s not as if my cock isn’t begging to be inside her. I’m just more of a gentleman about it.”
“Good for you. I choose to be more obvious about it.” Ethan rolls his eyes hard. “I tried my best, mate, but she’s just too irresistible.” I shrug apologetically with a cocky smile hanging from my lips.
“Since someone seems to be too impatient for his own good, why don’t we get started with dinner? If not, I’m afraid Xander will suffer from blue balls. I have no intention of spending the evening at A&E when I’d rather spend it with a delicious little Texan.”
“A & E?” Delilah asks.
“The emergency room.” She loses it. She tilts her head back, places her hand against her stomach and roars. Her laughter echoes throughout the glass room, compelling us to join her. After a few hilarious seconds, we manage to find our composure. “That was too funny. The way you two play-fight is absolutely hilarious,” she says, still giggling. Ethan and I shoot each other a complicit look. “I only had a quick sandwich at lunch—at my desk, may I add, because my mom called—and although delicious, it’s long gone. I’m actually quite famished. I’m definitely looking forward to dinner.”
“That’s music to my ears. Why don’t I go get the appetizers?”
Huh? “I don’t remember you mentioning appetizers earlier.”
“I didn’t think of buying any earlier. This isn’t my forte. I only thought about it on my way to pick up Delilah. I decided to keep it simple and not make things complicated for myself. I stopped by a cheesemonger on the way and grabbed a few selections. Lucky for me, they were located right next to a French baker. I ran in quickly and grabbed a third baguette since I figured you most likely headed to my kitchen when you got in.” I’m not surprised he’s onto me.
“Ethan shared your little ritual while we were in the car,” Delilah reveals.
“Guilty as charged.” I scrub the palm of my hand against my head. It’s one thing for Ethan to know, it’s another for him to share it. It’s not the manliest thing to do.
“That’s so endearing. I guess even domineering man have a softer side.” She smiles. “I love this other side of you.”
“Enough about my quirky habits. Let’s eat,” I declare, doing my best to deflate the topic.
Ethan claps his hands together. “Great idea.” He grins. “Xander, pour us some wine—Delilah prefers whites—select a great playlist—you’re the master in that department—and keep our guest company. I’m sure you’ll enjoy having her all to yourself for a few minutes.” He winks. “I’ll be right back,” Ethan announces as he walks towards his kitchen.
The sexual connection between us is undeniable—it has been since day one. I love how we exchange the kind of casual banter that only brings us closer.
CHAPTER 34
Delilah
After hanging up with Maggie, I rushed to get ready. It was impossible for me to prepare my wardrobe for tonight, since Ethan was waiting for me downstairs this morning. I spent the better part of my commute back home going over the many possibilities in my head. Given how my boys have reacted to my outfit, I’m pretty proud of my selection. You just can’t beat a New York sale. That’s one thing I miss about the city. Here in London sales only happen at certain times of the year, while in America there’s a sale just because.
My busy morning prevented me from having the time to wash my hair. I was planning on doing one of those fancy updos, but my extended conversation with Maggie killed that idea. You know what they say… When life gives you lemons, make a tangy lemon meringue pie. My granny Ruby Mae is the one who changed that proverb to encourage one to forge forward in the face of adversity. She wanted to make it more Southern. Momma uses it as her own and so do I. All that is to say, I had to come up with a creative solution for my hair that I could execute in two minutes flat since I still needed to put on my face before Ethan arrived. The messy ponytail is a girl’s best friend in these instances. It’s practical, yet sexy. The best part is the fact that I don’t have to walk around with flat hair. I might not pass as Blake Lively’s twin sister, but I’m styling.
The drive from my place to Ethan and Xander’s was as animated as it was this morning. During the whole ride Ethan and I exchanged the highlights of our day. We’re both quite looking forward to Calysta Knight. I’ll be at the auction, but I don’t have a hand in the preparations. Ashley has more experienced curators taking care of things on that front.
I couldn’t contain my excitement about the venue for the gala though. It’s no surprise Ethan has been on the Silver Sturgeon many times before. He said there’s nothing quite like sailing across the River Thames on a private yacht—it’s an experience like none other. I have no doubt it’ll be an unforgettable night for me.
At some point, we drove for a stretch of time in silence until Ethan declared how much Xander and he are looking forward to tonight because they just didn’t get enough of me last night. He also said how much they were looking forward to having me spend the night. I was so dumbstruck—and pleased—that I didn’t really know how to answer other than to say how much I enjoy spending time with them. Yeah, I played it safe. I had to. Everything about them is so overwhelming. I was afraid if I revealed too much, Ethan would be able to read my soul.
What a perfect evening. From Ethan insisting on picking me up to me sitting here across from two men who make me weak in the knees, it’s all been an incredible dream. They really know how to make a girl feel like a bona fide princess. Ethan and Xander kept the sovereign theme going by treating me to a royal meal. Last night’s dinner was incredible. The beer can bacon burgers were insanely mouthwatering, but it was quite familiar to me. Tonight, I’m able to discover British home cooking. Ethan might not have slaved over a hot oven all afternoon, but it was clear from the very first bite that the catering company that prepared this meal knows how to turn basic foods like chicken and potatoes into something memorable.
“My goodness gracious, that was out of this world,” I exclaim, pushing my empty plate back. “Everything was wow. Including this,” I say, lifting my glass. “I’m no wine connoisseur, but this is so good it’s forcing me to indulge more than I should.” Still, it doesn’t prevent me from taking another sip of the Sauvignon blanc, to Xander and Ethan’s amusement. I’m sure I should be concerned that the bottle sitting in the bucket filled with ice is more than halfway gone. It isn’t like I can say Ethan or Xander have been helping me out. They haven’t touched the white. It’s all red for them. If I was looking for an explanation for why I’m so lightheaded and giddy, now I have it.
“Ethan did good,” Xander comments.
“Thanks to both of you. Although I didn’t have to peel, chop, stuff, fry or mince, I graciously accept the compliments.” Ethan smiles proudly.
“No, seriously, you’ve just elevated my whole London food experience. I’ve been able to sample a few British classics like fish and chips from Poppies and bangers and mash from Mother Mash. Other than that I’ve been living off of pizza from Signore Leonetti, sandwi
ches from whichever shop is closest, and takeaways from Marks & Spencer and Waitrose—I do try to alternate from one week to another.” I laugh. “That said, those are all quick grubs and a far cry from this meal.”
“Grubs?” Xander and Ethan ask in unison.
I smack my forehead with the palm of my hand. “Duh. There I go again speaking American.” They laugh. “I mean they were quick meals. Nothing fancy.”
“Ah, that makes more sense,” Ethan says. “Indeed, those are eateries where you can enjoy a delicious meal without having to wait an eternity to be served. And for London, that’s saying something since speed and quality don’t always go hand in hand. There’s nothing fancy about Marks & Spencer, but it does do the job.”
“It does. I’m not much of a cook—to my granny’s and my mother’s chagrin—so I’m always happy when someone else is willing to do all the hard work. I’m content with popping things into the microwave and setting them on my plate once it’s ready. Boom.” Both my hands open up in front of me to make my point. “Just like that, dinner is served.”
“You and I are cut from the same cloth.” Ethan smiles. “I have no aspirations to be able to do more in the kitchen.”
“Neither do I,” I agree.
“Xander over here”—Ethan points his right thumb at his best friend—“is another species.”
“I am and I’m proud of it.” Xander chuckles. “Delilah, you might not have had a chance to explore much, but you definitely visited the best addresses. Mother Mash is a classic in this city. I never get tired of eating there. Their toffee pudding is pretty fantastic. Were you able to try it?”
“Oh, God, is it ever. It was my first go at the classic sticky toffee pudding dessert. I must say, I have no idea how I was able to survive that experience. One bite and I thought I had been transported to the gates of heaven.”
“I agree.” Xander nods. “The pudding on its own is phenomenal, but when you combine it with homemade vanilla ice cream, it takes things to celestial levels.”
“What about that sauce?” My eyes roll into the back of my head just thinking about it. “I could swim in that toffee sauce. It’s that good.” I’m rewarded with belly laughs from the two guys sitting across from me. When they regain their composure, Ethan is the first one to speak.
“I might be in the minority here, but I’m particularly partial to Mother Mash’s apple and blackberry pie. It’s all made by hand using real ingredients. As much as I love vanilla ice cream, the combination with the custard cream is simply heavenly. What I like the most is the fact that they always warm up the slices before serving them.”
“Damn, that sounds delicious. Note to self. Must try next time.”
“Your sense of humor is so refreshing, Delilah,” Ethan notes.
“Thank you. I think it’s a Southern thing or it could just be a Babcock thing. My cousin Maggie is exactly the same way. If I’m having a bad day, I know I can call her and within five minutes flat, I’m laughing my head off. My dad and brothers are also pretty good at lifting my spirits up when I need a boost. Momma is a lot more serious, but Dad does a good job at loosening her up. That said, I didn’t mean to be funny just now, but when you start talking about delicious desserts, I lose all my bearings.” I laugh. “I guess I tried in a really roundabout way to say the meal you served was lip-smackingly delish.”
“I’m glad you liked it,” Ethan says. “So tell us a little bit more about you, your life in Texas and in NYC. You just hinted at your family, but there’s so much about you we don’t know.”
“Ethan is right. I would also like to know more about you,” Xander chimes in. “At Hush I remember you mentioning that your father is from California, but you were born and raised in Texas. Is your mother also from there?”
“I think you’re going to regret that question. Once I get started talking about my family, I just can’t shut up.”
“I’m all ears.” Ethan grins.
“So am I. Start talking, woman,” Xander coaxes.
“All right, consider yourself warned,” I say before launching into storytelling mode. “My momma is very Texan. Her maiden name is Weldon and from my granddaddy’s stories it seems we settled in the largest Southern state ever since the first forefather in our lineage set foot in America. The family on my mother’s side is very religious and very conservative. They just couldn’t wrap their heads around me becoming an art curator when there are thousands of more practical professions to pick from. My daddy has been a senior creative director at Wallingford Communications for years, so he gets it. He’s always been supportive of my career choice. It took a little longer for my momma to come around, but she did.”
“What motivated you to pick that profession?” Ethan asks.
“My grandma Paige Babcock. She became a painter later in life. She was a stay-at-home mom all of her life and she never knew she had this incredible talent dormant inside her. After my granddad Keith died, she sold her house and moved from San Diego to Carlsbad—it’s a seaside resort city a little north of San Diego. After staying locked up in her house for the first few months and grieving the loss of her husband, she realized that she needed to do something with herself or else she’d end up drowning in sorrow. One day, when she was coming back from grocery shopping, she took a different route home and discovered a quaint little house with a bright yellow door with a sign hanging in front of it that read ‘art school’. On the following Monday, she signed up for her first art classes.”
“I’ve been to LA many times, but I have yet to visit the surrounding cities. I hear San Diego is absolutely beautiful.”
“It is, Xander. It’s one of those places you have to see with your own two eyes to believe it. It has a very different vibe from Los Angeles. People who live there never want to leave. Carlsbad is even more enchanting.”
“I’m sorry. I interrupted you,” Xander apologizes.
“Not at all.” I smile. It makes me feel pretty amazing that they’re that interested in me. “Grandma Paige immersed herself in her art. My daddy and uncles were happy she had found an outlet after the passing of their dad. I remember Daddy saying he was worried that the loneliness would get to her and she’d die of a broken heart. Granddad Keith and Grandma Paige married when she was sixteen and he was eighteen. It wasn’t a perfect marriage, but they loved each other until Granddad Keith passed. What started out as a hobby quickly became an obsession for my grandma. Within five years of picking up a paintbrush for the first time, she had her first art exhibit.”
“What kind of art does she paint?”
“Xander, I always saw my grandmother as this tiny little bundle of love. I remember the first time I saw her work I was so surprised by the contradiction between the woman standing in front of me and her paintings. I never saw that edgy side to her personality. She paints abstract. She uses bold colors, big brushstrokes, random blots of paint and interesting textures—that she renders with a knife—to create pieces that have so much movement, life and vitality. She was selling a few paintings here and there, but that didn’t discourage her from continuing. Granddad Keith’s pension was more than sufficient to keep her going without having to worry about money. So she did. She kept painting, showing her work and visiting art galleries in San Diego, San Francisco and in Los Angeles. With her warm personality and her talent, she was able to seduce a small art gallery owner in Los Angeles to feature her art. The owner was so impressed that she decided to organize an evening and invited some of her best clients.”
“It seems like her determination and perseverance paid off.” Of course, Ethan would know all about that since he’s in the industry.
“I couldn’t have said it better. My grandmother was beside herself. My parents put us all in the minivan and we drove to LA to attend that historic night. Daddy and my uncles admired my grandmother’s gusto, but they didn’t expect much to arise from that evening other than a few great photos Grandma would cherish forever. Lo and behold, a former A-list actor fell in love wi
th my grandma’s work and he ended up buying two of her more expensive pieces. His name is Grayson Evanson. He was the star of a very popular police drama that was on TV for a decade—”
“He’s the star of Midnight Heat,” Xander exclaims.
“Oh, yeah, Detective Malcolm O’Malley was a badass cop who wasn’t afraid to bend the rules when necessary as long as he was able to nail the bad guys by the end of the episode.” It’s Ethan’s turn to be excited.
“How did you guys know? That’s before you were born.”
“That show arrived in Britain many years after it stopped airing in America. It was our dads’ favorite. It was a sacred hour for them and we knew at a young age that when the famous opening starts playing, we had two choices. One”—Xander lifts his index finger in the air—“sit down, be quiet and watch the show with them or two”—he now lifts his middle finger—“get the hell out of the living room.”
“Xander is right. We couldn’t have been more than five years old at the time, but we knew we’d get in trouble if we didn’t obey. The show aired at eight PM on Wednesday nights. Our dads would meet at each other’s house—they’d alternate from one week to another.”
“Our mums knew the program well.” Xander picks up where Ethan left off. “They’d have a bottle of beer and a few dessert options ready on the coffee table with the remote not too far—”
“It was a big production,” Ethan interjects.
“Tell me about it.” Xander shakes his head. “I still remember it like it was yesterday.” He ponders for a few seconds before continuing. “Once the mums confirmed if we wanted to stay with our dads or follow them, they’d retreat to the kitchen to enjoy some girl chat.”
“What a coincidence. What are the odds of having an actual connection like this?” I ask, marveling at what they just shared.
Deliciously British Page 38
