Smolder: The Wildwood Series (13 page)

Chapter Thirteen

“Y
OU
’
RE GLOWING
.”

Delilah made no reply, merely smiled in return before she took a sip from her drink.

They were at the Bigfoot Diner for lunch. Harper’s invite had come a little over an hour ago via text. She’d needed a break after implementing new bookkeeping software on the BFD office computer, since she worked with her grandma, handling the accounting duties while her grandma took care of the restaurant. After taking her mom to the lab for those tests, Wren had helped Harper all morning, which sounded like a nightmare job to Delilah. She’d been lucky enough to work on new choreography all morning. For some reason, she was infused with restless energy.

Well, she knew whom to thank—or blame—for that. Having a long, sex-filled night with Lane should’ve left her exhausted, but instead, she felt invigorated, downright hyper.

And that meant she was annoying the crap out of her friends.

Harper and Wren were both looking a little dusty and a lot frazzled as they glowered at Delilah like she’d broken some cardinal rule by appearing at the diner fresh as a daisy and irritatingly cheerful. They sat across from her in a booth in the back of the restaurant, looking like a pair of grumpy old ladies.

“Why are you glowing? And bouncing in your seat?” Harper asked, her gaze shrewd. She didn’t miss a trick, that Harper. Of course, she was in the same boat as Delilah, or perhaps an even better boat, considering she was getting great sex on a regular basis from West.

“She always bounces in her seat,” Wren muttered as she kept her head bent, scanning the menu on the table in front of her. “She’s probably had too much coffee.”

“Nah, it’s more than that.” Harper stared at her. Delilah started to squirm even more. Maybe she shouldn’t have agreed to meet them for lunch after all.

“It’s nothing,” she said as she pushed her menu to the end of the table. “And why are you looking at the menu, Wren? You know what you want to order.” She didn’t know why Harper’s grandma had left the menus in the first place.

“I should get a salad. I’ve been feeling fat,” Wren muttered, glaring at her glass of ice water. “I should’ve ordered a root beer.”

“You’re not fat,” Delilah reassured, thankful for the subject change. “Seriously, Wren, you look fabulous. If you’re feeling flabby, come to one of my classes. I’ll dance you back into shape.”

“Please, more like you’ll kill me.” Wren shoved the menu away and leaned against the booth seat, her expression irritable. “You know, Harper’s right. You are glowing. What gives?”

Delilah lightly touched her cheek, wishing she had a mirror. She didn’t look different, did she? Could she have been
that
transformed by one fantastic night with Lane? No way. No freaking way.

But three orgasms in one night could do a lot to a girl. The man knew how to bring her satisfaction, she’d give him that. He’d worked his damnedest to make sure she had an orgasm every single time too. She could appreciate that. Could appreciate everything Lane had done for her last night and early this morning . . .

She’d left before the sun had come up, sneaking out of bed and slipping back into her clothes as he roused, sitting up so the sheet had pooled around his hips. Looking gorgeous and rumpled and sexy and sleepy.

“Where you goin’?” he’d mumbled as he pushed his hand through his hair.

Her heart had fallen to her toes at the sight of him. She’d wanted to climb back into bed with him and never leave again.

But she’d known she had to leave first. Before he said something awful and ruined the moment. He was an expert at pushing her away too. Running hot and cold, that was Lane. Right now he was on-fire hot, and that was her favorite version of Lane. Though she was scared he’d do something to mess it up. Or worse, break her heart. He was pretty good at that.

In fact, Lane was a total expert when it came to mishandling her heart. No one had ever done a better job.

“I have to go.” She’d kissed him, startling when he wrapped one strong arm around her waist and tried to haul her into the bed with him. She’d resisted, using all of her strength to keep herself upright. “Seriously, Lane. Don’t you have to work today?”

He’d said yes. Tried to kiss her again. Snuck a hand up her shirt, spanked her butt, and done everything he could to make her stick around for one more chance to be with him. But she’d said no. She’d walked out of his house on her own terms, her heart singing a lonely tune the entire drive home.

She’d taken a shower, careful with the tender spots on her body. Then she’d gone to the dance studio and lost herself in the music as she listened to various songs, picking out a few good ones for recitals next year.

She was moving forward with her plans and creating a team to take to regional competitions, something she’d never done before. She’d competed as a teen, and those memories were some of her favorites.

Delilah had been feeling so inspired she’d scrolled through sites online, finding a few competitions close by and noting them on her calendar. She was excited by the possibilities, excited for the future of her business, and so incredibly thankful her thoughts this morning weren’t totally wrapped up in Lane.

He couldn’t be her end all, be all. He just . . . couldn’t. It was dangerous becoming hung up on Lane. She already was. She couldn’t let sex take her semiobsession even further.

“Dee.” Wren waved her fingers in front of Delilah’s face, pulling her from her thoughts. “Where’d you go?”

“She’s all dreamy. And she’s only ever dreamy when it has to do with a guy.” Harper’s knowing smile couldn’t be missed. “You’re thinking about Lane.”

“Ew,” Wren said, shaking her head. “I really hate how you both have fallen for my brothers.”

“You do not.” Harper nudged Wren’s side with her elbow. “You love it. We could all be family someday, you know.”

The mere thought made Delilah’s heart race. They’d known each other for what felt like forever but she knew mentioning the possibility of marriage to Lane would freak him out. Crap, it was freaking her out, and she’d had a thing for Lane for years. This was her dream come true, what she’d wanted for far too long.

Harper and Wren were still squabbling when Delilah interrupted them. “I was with Lane last night.”

Her friends went silent, turning to look at her with wide eyes.

“All night,” she emphasized, making Harper grin and Wren grimace.

“Oh my God, you had sex with Lane. Wow,” Harper said, clapping her hands together. “So are you two like . . . official now?”

“Give me a break,” Delilah muttered, taking another sip of her Coke. She wished she had something stronger. She suddenly needed it. “You know how it is with Lane.”

“Have you talked to him today?” Wren asked.

Delilah shook her head. “Not since this morning when I left his place.”

Harper looked downright giddy. “I can’t believe it. So how was it?”

“Dude, you have no shame.” Wren stuck her fingers in her ears. “I don’t want to hear any details.”

“She’s such a party pooper.” Harper rolled her eyes.

“That’s my brother you’re talking about, not that you care considering you’re banging my
other
brother. It’s like a conspiracy or something, I swear,” Wren said.

“You can give me details later, when she’s not around,” Harper said, laughing.

Harper’s grandma appeared at their table to take their orders. “So your mama is all right?” she asked Wren. “I heard about what happened yesterday. I hope she’s feeling better today.”

“She is, thank you. The testing went well and she’s at home resting. I’m going to stop by and check on her later this afternoon,” Wren said.

After Harper’s grandma walked away, they talked about Angela Gallagher and how she was feeling, what the possible problems could be and what she might need to do if it was something serious. Though both Harper and Delilah reassured Wren that it was most likely nothing, none of them really knew. Delilah was just glad for the change of subject. She didn’t want to talk about her and Lane. It made her feel weird. Uncomfortable.

Yes, they’d had a great time last night. Yes, the chemistry between them was still undeniable. Yes, her body lit up just thinking about him. She wanted more. She wanted to roll around in his bed all day and night. Just the two of them, isolated from the world, caught up in their own little bubble.

But that wasn’t reality. There were other things going on. Delilah had a business not just to run, but to expand and grow. Lane was busy with work and family problems. His mom needed him. His siblings needed him too. They were both swamped.

Maybe this wouldn’t work for them after all.

L
ANE DROVE AIMLESSLY
around town, his mind not on the job but on other things. His mom. Her health. Wondering what the hell was wrong with her. Hoping it wasn’t anything too bad—though deep in his gut, he was afraid it was something horribly serious.

And if he wasn’t thinking about his mother, his thoughts drifted to Delilah, and that was almost worse. What had happened last night had been nothing short of amazing.

The sex was scorching. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. She couldn’t seem to keep her hands off him. They’d been up most of the night, talking and having sex. Eating and telling each other they needed to go to bed, only to fall back into each other’s arms and go at it again. Like two out-of-control addicts who couldn’t get enough of each other.

It had been awesome. Mind-blowing. And eye-opening. Everything was so good between them. Too good.

Scary good—and that always meant it would eventually go bad.

She’d
left
him
this morning too, which had shocked him. Yeah, he had to work. And so had she, but she owned her own business and for the most part could make her own hours. But he’d caught her getting her clothes on like she was going to sneak out or something and that had confused him.

What confused him more? He hadn’t wanted her to leave. At all. He’d tried his best to pull her back into bed but she’d resisted. And that bothered him too.

Tremendously.

He kept driving until he ended up in his parents’ neighborhood and headed down the narrow road that led to their house. He pulled into their gravel driveway and climbed out of his cruiser, glancing around. The sky was a blindingly bright blue and birds chirped from their perches in the pine trees that towered above him and surrounded the house. He could hear the faint buzzing of a boat engine coming from the nearby lake. It was a perfect summer day.

So why did he feel so full of dread?

He was heading down the walkway toward the front porch when his dad appeared, the screen door banging loudly behind him. He came to a stop at seeing his father, wariness filling him as the older man walked toward him, a grim not-quite-a-smile on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Lane asked as the man drew closer.

“Shouldn’t I ask you that, considering this is my house?” Wayne Gallagher stopped just in front of him, his hands on his hips, mouth drawn into a thin line, making him look old. Unhappy. But his father was still considered a good-looking man. He had a full head of silver hair and a few wrinkles lined his face, but otherwise he was in good shape. Looked pretty much the same as he had when Lane was a kid and actually admired his old man.

He could hardly wrap his head around the concept. The bad memories outnumbered the good ones. So much so that he couldn’t stay caught up in that dreamlike state he was always in while thinking about Delilah. He didn’t want a relationship. He couldn’t be good at one. Look at the example he’d been given. His father was a total asshole. Even worse? His father didn’t think he was a bad guy and blamed everyone else for how they treated him.

What if Lane turned into that? What if he eventually got married and had kids and turned into a bitter old man who was always seeking something better than what he already had? He’d hate himself forever.

Dragging an innocent woman and their innocent children through that? He remembered what it was like. It had enraged him but it hurt too. The pain he’d suffered watching his mom cry when their daddy didn’t come home at night.

It still hurt if he thought about it long enough.

“I came to check on Mom,” Lane finally said, stepping around his father to head toward the house. “How is she?”

“Resting. You should leave her alone. Do what you usually do and stay away.”

Lane turned, shocked to find his dad right on his tail. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” his dad said, his gaze penetrating.

“No, Dad. I don’t.” He wasn’t in the mood to play games. May as well start arguing instead of circling each other.

“You never come by to see her. Or me. Why change now? We don’t need you around. And you definitely don’t need us. You’ve made that clear.” The self-righteous smile on his father’s face made Lane want to punch him. He clenched his hand into a fist, ready to let it fly.

But this man was his father. And Lane was on duty. In uniform, driving his patrol car. He refused to risk his job over something his father said. The man made those remarks only to needle him and it worked like usual. His father had always known how to push his buttons.

Taking a deep breath, Lane turned and started for the house again, ignoring his father, who followed close behind. If he said something, they’d start arguing and he didn’t want to deal. He was tired of it. Tired of being mad. Tired of fighting. Tired of hating his father.

“Wren took her to get those tests. Why we’re wasting our money on that sort of thing I have no idea. Your mother is fine,” he said as they walked up the porch steps.

“She didn’t look so fine yesterday. She fainted. Not that you were there to see. When are you ever around to see her anyway? From what I hear, you’re never home.” He opened the screen door and went inside, stopping short when he saw his mother sitting in her recliner, a cat on her lap and the TV on, the volume turned down low.

There was color in her cheeks and her hair was down, falling past her shoulders. She didn’t look so worn and tired. Actually, she looked great.