Chapter Fifteen
Other than the crowds, the day was perfect. Mild, bright, and as clear as the eye could see.
Delaney finally found a strip of grass to spread her blanket. The finish line was even more popular than the starting point for Glory Junction’s famous End-of-Summer kayak races. She’d promised to save everyone a place on the packed riverbank.
A lot of the attendees had turned the event into a picnic. Ice chests, folding tables, and wicker hampers dotted the landscape as children competed for the best place to view the race from the river’s edge.
Because it was Delaney’s first End-of-Summer weekend, she planned to take in as many events as possible. Pie-eating contests, horse and carriage rides, and a diving contest at the lake were just a few of the festival’s offerings. And of course, live music at Old Glory, including Colt’s band.
She hadn’t seen him since dinner at his parents. It seemed to her that he was intentionally making himself scarce. Perhaps he was embarrassed about the phone call, but she doubted it. Colt didn’t strike her as the self-conscious type. He was just staying true to form: vacillating between flirtation and disinterest, the way he had the entire month of August. Maybe he’d found someone in another town to toy with.
She saw Hannah and Foster wending their way through the crowd, stood up so they would see her, and waved.
“This is great, nice and close to the river.” Hannah plopped down on the blanket while Foster went to say hi to someone he knew. “Carrie Jo’s coming too. And Win is around here somewhere.”
“Have the kayakers started yet?”
“They took off twenty minutes ago. I followed along the bank, and from what I could tell, Josh and TJ were in the lead with Deb and Felix not far behind.”
According to what Colt had told her, pro kayak races covered many miles and went for several days. One of the largest was a thousand-mile race in Canada that took more than a week to finish. Glory Junction’s was a short course, only four miles on a relatively wide stretch of river without many rapids. Participants were encouraged to give their teams funny names and to wear goofy getups.
“What about Colt?” she asked.
Hannah grimaced. “He and Jack got off to a rocky start. Their kayak seems to have a mind of its own.”
Uh-oh. Delaney knew how competitive Colt could be. And who knew whether the mayor kept score? It sounded like he looked for any reason to give Colt a hard time, though she couldn’t imagine how the mayor could hold it against Colt if he lost an amateur race involving the whole town. That would be too petty even for him.
“I’m worried about Josh’s leg,” Hannah said. She and Josh had come back from San Francisco, hailing the surgery as a huge success. “He’s really supposed to be resting for a few weeks, and even though he’s using mostly his upper body, it seems reckless to race. But you can’t talk that man out of anything.”
Hannah loved her husband so much that sometimes when she talked about him Delaney felt a jab of jealousy. Not a pretty side of herself, but she couldn’t help it. At one time, she and Robert had adored each other, but they had never shared the kind of powerful love Hannah and Josh had. She suspected that Garner men were intense about everything, including their relationships. Case in point: look how long it was taking Colt to get over Lisa.
“Hopefully TJ will stop him from doing anything that could hurt his recovery.”
Hannah snorted. “Yeah, right. The only thing they care about is winning, especially against Colt. They love each other like crazy but, man, are they competitive.”
Foster came back with a box of sandwiches and sodas. “A kid from Tart Me Up is selling them. That Rachel is one smart cookie. I wish I would’ve thought of it myself.”
“Thank God, I’m starved.” Hannah grabbed one of the sandwiches.
Foster eyed her closely. “You eating for two?”
“Nope. Not yet, anyway.” She sounded disappointed. “Josh wants to wait until his leg is better.”
“You’re not getting any younger, honey.” Foster threw Delaney a sandwich.
Carrie Jo and Win spotted them and came trotting over. Win saw the sandwiches and plucked one out of the box while Carrie Jo perused each and every one, studying the ingredients.
“You think any of these are made with whole-grain bread?”
“No,” Foster said plainly. “Just eat half of one and you’ll be fine.”
Carrie Jo seemed to take Foster’s word as gospel and unwrapped half a turkey, cranberry, and goat cheese. “Colt and Jack are getting their asses kicked. The only ones doing worse are Rachel and the kid from her shop. I probably would’ve skipped the giant foam-rubber cupcake costumes.”
“It’s good for Colt to get creamed every now and again,” Win said between bites. He’d already commandeered the other half of Carrie Jo’s sandwich. “Builds humility, something Colt is greatly lacking. Besides, it’s still early. Anything can happen.”
“I saw Pond with some skank wearing booty shorts. Not a good look on a fifty-something with varicose veins.” Carrie Jo stuck her finger in her mouth and made gagging noises. “They were watching Colt and Jack and were laughing.”
“Yeah?” Win jumped to his feet. “I’ll go stand behind him . . . let him know I’m watching.”
Carrie Jo grabbed Win’s arm to stop him. “Don’t make it worse for your brother. The whole race is supposed to be a joke. The Garners are the only ones who take it seriously.”
“Carrie Jo is right,” Hannah said. “Let it go.”
Delaney admired Win’s loyalty, but it wouldn’t serve any purpose to get in the mayor’s face. “When is he up for reelection? Because when he is, you can work for the opposition and make sure he’s voted out of office.”
“He just got elected,” Win said, and sat back down. “He has enough time left in his term to make Colt’s life a living hell.”
In the distance a kayak bobbed on the water. It was too far away to make out who was in it. Win pulled up the pair of binoculars hanging around his neck and took a long look. Others started to notice and rushed to the water’s edge to join the kids. Soon, Delaney couldn’t see anything but backs and legs. Win got up and continued to train his field glasses on the lone boat.
“Who is it?” Hannah asked.
“Can’t tell yet.”
The rest of them stood as well, shielding their eyes from the sun, trying to make out the winner. Delaney thought it would be a while before the kayak got close enough to distinguish whom it belonged to. It didn’t stop bystanders from getting excited and yelling words of encouragement.
“Uh-oh, it’s Boden and one of his bartenders.” Carrie Jo pointed to the shore where the bartender, dressed in lederhosen, and a woman in a St. Pauli Girl outfit walked, carrying an upside-down kayak on their heads, defeat written across their faces.
Win aimed the binoculars at them. “Looks like Oktoberfest bit the dust.”
“What do you think happened?” Delaney asked.
“They either got disqualified or sprung a leak. I better give ’em a hand.” Win jumped down a small embankment and jogged toward them.
“Why would they have gotten disqualified?” Delaney went up on tiptoes to get a better look.
“If a competitor gets out of his kayak during the race, it’s an instant disqualification,” Hannah explained.
The crowd cheered Boden and the St. Pauli Girl as they hiked—not paddled—toward the finish line. Mary and some of the other volunteers dragged coolers filled with drinks to the landing area and a couple of kids ran toward Team Old Glory with bottles of water. Win helped hoist their kayak onto the official race trailer and returned to the picnic blanket.
Delaney spied Gray Garner standing there with a stopwatch in his hand, craning his neck to see who paddled the kayak in the lead, a huge smile splitting his face. He was one of the head organizers and, according to Colt, founded the End-of-Summer races.
As the kayak got closer, Delaney saw a logo on the side of the boat but couldn’t make out what it said.
“It’s them ... Josh and TJ!” Hannah shouted and pointed. “See the GA?”
“Shocker.” Foster covered his mouth, feigning surprise. “They win every freaking year.”
“This is the first time they won without Colt,” Hannah reminded him. “Josh wasn’t even here last summer.”
“That’s true,” Foster conceded.
A few feet from the finish line, TJ and Josh began tossing things at the cheering crowd. A kid in front of Delaney caught a Garner Adventure Frisbee. There were T-shirts, ball caps, and headlamps.
“They’ve got the best swag,” she overheard two boys say as people climbed all over each other to catch the prizes.
As Gray announced Garner Adventure as the first-place winner, Delaney took in Josh’s and TJ’s Hawaiian-print board shorts, rash guards, and helmets with the GA symbol. The fashion designer in her was more interested in the costumes than the actual race.
“Where are they? Where’s GJPD’s kayak?” Carrie Jo stared out over the horizon.
Delaney did the same and saw two small objects bobbing in the water. From this distance, they could just as easily be tin cans as kayaks. A dozen kids ran up the shore to get a closer look. Win peered out over the water with his binoculars.
“Is it them?” Carrie Jo asked.
Win continued to scan the river. “It’s Sasquatch.”
“What?” Delaney thought she might’ve heard him wrong over the noise of the crowd.
“Big Foot.” He hung the field glasses around his neck and squinted in the direction of what now was clearly two kayaks racing neck and neck. “And is that a fish?”
“Let me see.” Carrie Jo tugged on the binoculars and tried to look through them.
“Hey, you’re choking me.” Win took them off and handed them to Carrie Jo, who zoomed in on the boat.
Foster narrowed his eyes. “What on earth are they wearing?”
“Not Big Foot, but a bear,” Carrie Jo said. “The other one is definitely a fish.”
The mystery contestants stood up in their kayak and waved as spectators cheered. Hamming it up, the bear began to dance with the fish but caught his foot in a strap, tipping the boat to one side.
“Uh-oh,” Win said. And the rest of them held their breath.
In their zeal to right the vessel, the bear overcompensated and the kayak tipped over, dumping both of them into the river. The fish went down first but managed to hang on to the bottom of the boat. The bear, weighed down by yards of wet fur, began to sink like a stone, flailing his arms just to keep his head above the surface.
“Oh my God!” Hannah cried. “It’s Chip.”
Two men on shore began to wade out, but the water was deeper and the current stronger than it looked. By the time they reached Chip it would be too late. Out of the corner of her eye Delaney saw someone from the second kayak hold out a paddle and yell something. Encumbered by hairy paws, Chip’s hands kept slipping off the oar. And the heaviness of the costume continued to drag him down.
“He’s going to drown.” Hannah covered her mouth.
“You think he’s drunk?” Foster elbowed his way between Delaney and Hannah as they all watched helplessly.
Win had disappeared and Delaney assumed he’d gone to do what he could. But she had no idea what. They were too far away. Even the fish, who was closest, appeared powerless.
That was when the person holding the paddle jumped into the water. As Delaney watched, she realized it was Colt. He swam against the current, his strokes sure and forceful while the spectators roared with approval. When he finally reached Chip, he tugged the bear mask off his face. Able to breathe, Chip shook his head from side to side, like a hair model in a shampoo commercial, and attempted a fist pump for his fans, only to go under again. Colt hoisted him up by his shoulders—no easy feat, given that all that wet fur had to weigh a ton—put him in a lifeguard hold, and towed him toward shore. When they got a few feet from the bank, bystanders rushed in and helped get Chip onto dry land and out of the bulky bear suit. Jack, in the meantime, got the fish to safety.
“It’s Valerie,” Carrie Jo said as they watched Chip’s wife waddle in her fin to her husband. “Get it? Fish and Game.”
A couple more good Samaritans helped pulled the kayak out of the water while a crew from the fire station rushed in and took over. The whole rescue lasted less than eight minutes. Yet, the drama of it whipped up the crowd, especially Colt. Undeterred by the time he’d lost, he swam back to his and Jack’s kayak and they resumed the race to shouts of encouragement.
“Go! Go! Go!” the crowd chanted, some jumping up and down.
Others chanted for Team Morning Glory. Deb and Felix, wearing menu boards and chef hats from the diner, rounded the clubhouse turn, and the race for second place was on.
Delaney noticed that Colt and Jack had gone all out for the occasion, wearing ratty police department polo shirts and faded tactical shorts. What drew her attention more was Colt’s bulging biceps as he furiously paddled to claim the advantage over Team Morning Glory. He was ripped, no doubt about it. Delaney stood on the sidelines, enjoying the view of Colt’s muscles bunching every time he rowed. As with his heroic rescue, the man meant business. With his dark hair glinting in the sun, his brows knitted in determination, and the breadth of his chest outlined by his soaking wet T-shirt, he reminded her of a professional athlete. So fit and lithe. So sexy. The picture of outdoorsy ruggedness, which before now had never been her thing. She’d always been drawn to the debonair, well-coiffed type in a designer suit.
Not anymore. Compared to Colt they all looked like dandies. As she glanced around the crowd it occurred to her that so much had changed in the nine months she’d lived full-time in Glory Junction. Here she was in jeans and flats, her hair tied back in a careless ponytail, wearing very little makeup, and no one cared. Not one single person. Here, no one was judging her or expecting her to outdo her last collection, or pressuring her to be someone she didn’t want to be. Here, she could just be herself. And that was enough.
The realization was heady and a little bit scary. A person could grow complacent in a small, accepting town like this.
The cheers pulled her back to the race. As the kayaks got closer to the finish line, everyone on the sidelines amped up the cheering, spurring Colt to paddle like crazy.
“Go Colt! You can do it!” she yelled, drawing raised brows from Hannah, Foster, and Carrie Jo. “What?”
“You should’ve brought your pom-poms, girl,” Foster said, then whispered in her ear, “You’re totally into him.”
“He’s my neighbor.” But arguing was futile. They were laughing at her.
Colt and Jack crossed the finish line in a dead heat with Deb and Felix. Colt didn’t look too thrilled about it, but it didn’t stop him from lifting Deb out of her kayak and giving her a big kiss, which as silly as it was, made Delaney jealous.
Hannah rushed down to Josh, who sat on the landing, icing his leg. TJ wore a giant grin while pumping Felix’s hand. Some of the crowd started to disperse but most waited for the Tart Me Up crew to paddle in dead last. Rachel and one of the teenagers who worked behind the bakery counter looked ready to pass out. As far as Delaney was concerned, they should win for best costumes. Carrie Jo was wrong about their cupcake suits. Adorable.
The rest of the kayaks were loaded onto the trailer, which was towed by an all-terrain vehicle that could handle the shale and dirt road back to the trailhead. Chip and Valerie, both in one piece but exhausted, caught a ride out with a few of the firefighters. Everyone else hiked, dragging their coolers and gear behind them. Delaney walked with Carrie Jo and Foster, reluctant to make the first overture to Colt, who’d hung back with Jack and a couple of other police officers. Presumably to make sure that the area had been properly cleared. Carrie Jo and Foster had driven their own cars so at the lot they all went their separate ways.
Delaney decided that it would be better to drive home and walk to town for more of the festivities, instead of dealing with parking. She pulled the Tesla into the garage, went inside and grabbed a lightweight jacket in case it got cool, then headed to the boardwalk for the pie-eating contest. Boden said he would save them a couple of tables for Colt’s show, which had sold out.
People jammed the river walk and Delaney could barely see the competitors’ table. Rita Tucker sidled next to her and let out a beleaguered huff.
“I told them to hold the pie eating at the VFW hall this year. More room in there. This is ridiculous.”
“It’s a little tight,” Delaney agreed. “But it’s nice to be outside.”
“I suppose,” Rita said. “But it would’ve been better at the hall or in the theater, which reminds me: how are those costumes coming?”
A shout went up and Delaney stood on tiptoes to see what was happening. All five of the contestants were covered in berry filling. One of them had moved on to his next pie, causing all the hoopla.
“They’re done,” she told Rita. “I’ve been meaning to deliver them to the theater.”
“Done? Wow, you’re fast.”
No, the costumes had just been a nice distraction from her real job. “I’ll bring them over next week.”
“Great,” Rita said, and ran off to talk to one of her friends.
“What are you doing?” a familiar voice buzzed in her ear.
It should’ve seemed obvious. “What everyone else is doing, watching the pie-eating contest.”
“You can’t see back here.”
Colt took her hand and led her through the crowd. He didn’t have to push or shove; people voluntarily separated for him.
“This doesn’t seem right,” she whispered.
“I Figure I May as well use my clout as chief while I still can.” He grinned, and she nearly melted in a puddle at his feet. How did he manage to do that, especially when he hadn’t talked to her in a week?
“Congratulations.”
He fixed her with a what-are-you-talking-about stare. “For what?”
“The kayak race. Second place—a pretty good showing for someone who thought he would lose . . . and stopped to save a life.”
“We were disqualified.”
She looked at him, dumbfounded. “What do you mean disqualified?”
“You go in the water, you get disqualified.”
“But you went into the water for Chip.”
He shrugged. “Those are the rules.”
“Did you know that before you came in second?”
“Of course I did.”
Then why the heck did you kill yourself to get to the finish line? Did she really need to ask?
“Anyway, we only tied for second. Not a good showing—a joke.”
“Are you a sore loser, Colt Garner?” She stared up at his rugged face and thought the man was too handsome for his own good. He hadn’t shaved and dark bristle covered that square jaw of his. So much masculinity in one package.... It woke up parts of her she hadn’t remembered having.
“I’ve gotta get back to work,” he said, without answering her question, and started to back away.
She noticed he’d changed out of the polo and shorts he’d worn for the kayak races into a Glory Junction tee, a pair of jeans, and his gun belt, signifying he was back on duty.
“Tonight?” He did that chin bob thing he was so fond of.
“I’ll be there.” She couldn’t wait to see him perform. Even if it turned out that he wasn’t much on the ears, he was easy on the eyes. So easy.
* * *
Colt got to Old Glory early. A couple of friends of the bass player had volunteered to set up their equipment and Colt wanted to do a sound check while the bar was relatively quiet. Most of the town was still at the talent show.
“You good to go?” Boden asked as he set up rows of glasses on the back-bar shelves. The night would be busy. It always was for the End-of-Summer.
Colt sat at one of the stools. “I think so. As soon as the guys get here we’ll test things out. What happened to you and Ingrid on the river?” For a while he’d been tied with Boden. Then, boom, he looked up and Boden was gone.
“We were taking on water and I couldn’t find the leak.” Boden lifted his shoulders. “At least we didn’t nearly drown.”
“Chip.” Colt shook his head. “Man, what was he thinking wearing that bear thing? Now, the lederhosen . . .” Colt leaned his head back and laughed his ass off.
Boden had changed into his regular uniform. Jeans and a flannel shirt. Ingrid had kept on her St. Pauli Girl dress, which showed a great deal of cleavage. Colt figured the outfit would ring in a heap of tips.
“You drinking tonight?” Boden grabbed a pint glass from under the bar.
“Yep. Jack’s on call.”
“But he’ll be here, right?” Boden proceeded to fill the glass with a local lager that Colt particularly liked.
“As long as nothing big goes down.” He’d have to keep his eye on his phone all night, though. They really needed another person to handle call duty, someone with supervisory experience.
“I reserved the two big tables by the stage for your posse.”
“Thanks, Boden.”
A couple of members of the band trickled in and Colt went over to the stage to discuss their set list. When the rest of the group showed up they tested their mics and equipment until he was satisfied with the sound quality. Not that a bar band required much.
They sat around shooting the breeze in a small room behind the stage where Boden stored his extra liquor. Colt hadn’t seen some of the guys for a while and took the opportunity to catch up before they had to perform. Boden or one of the bar’s staff would let them know when it was time to go on. It wouldn’t be long. Even with the door closed, Colt could hear the place filling up.
At nine they got the cue. Without a warm-up band, they were scheduled to do four sets. They walked out on stage with the floor packed so tight that Boden had to open all the doors so people could watch from the street. Colt figured it was just a matter of time before the fire marshal showed up.
There was a lot of hooting and hollering and requests for songs. Some the band regularly played, others Colt had never heard of. They launched into a raucous rendition of Credence Clearwater Revival’s “Travelin’ Band.” Before Lisa left, they’d played a lot more often and could rip through a set like it was rote. He’d worried that without much rehearsal they’d be sloppy tonight. But the band felt tight, falling into a familiar rhythm that came with years of playing together.
He scanned the crowd, looking for Delaney, and saw her sitting at one of the reserved tables with Hannah and his brother. A smile played on her lips and he got so caught up looking at her that he stumbled over a chord.
He quickly looked away so he could finish the song. Throughout the night, he continued to sneak peeks at her, taking in the way her hair shimmered in the dusky lights and how her face shined with animation every time he sang a tune.
Since Josh’s dinner and his idiotic phone call, he’d been avoiding her. She was too tempting and he only had so much willpower. He was hoping that the whole out-of-sight, out-of-mind thing would work. That’s why during the band’s first three breaks he went outside with the drummer, who smoked, and circulated among people he hadn’t seen for a while.
Evasion wasn’t having the desired effect, unfortunately. Because he couldn’t stop glancing her way every now and again—or constantly—to see whom she was talking to or what she was doing. God, she was killing him.
For the last set, he climbed the stage, trying to keep his mind on the music. The audience grew even noisier than before—their last chance to yell out requests for favorites that the band hadn’t yet played. For the most part, Colt tried to be accommodating, but when the crowd began chanting, “‘Crazy about You,’” he felt the blood rush from his face. The rhythm guitarist gave him a pointed look. Are we doing this?
Hell, no, they weren’t doing it. The room grew louder. More impatient. “‘Crazy about You’!” they yelled over and over again, clapping their hands and stomping their feet. “‘Crazy about You’!”
Colt stared out at the sea of faces and held TJ’s gaze. His brother gave him an emphatic nod, urging him to do the song. The crowd made such a ruckus, Colt couldn’t concentrate over the din. For a minute, he stood there paralyzed, then his attention fell on Delaney. Her black hair, her blue eyes, and it hit him like a lightning bolt.
“ ‘Galway Girl,’ ” he told the band. They’d never played it together before but they muddled through the first quarter. By the second, they were feeling the groove, laying it down like it was one of their standards.
Colt locked eyes with Delaney as he belted out the lyrics and saw the moment when recognition washed over her face. He was singing about her. About how he wanted her ... a night together.
Red stained her cheeks but she never turned away, holding eye contact with him as he sang the chorus. The words resonated through the hall as if they were the only two people in the bar. And a shot of desire arced through him like shock waves.
At the end of the song, concertgoers jumped to their feet and shouted for an encore, shaking him out of the moment. Their moment.
Boden climbed the stage and yelled, “Last call for alcohol, and according to city ordinance, the music was supposed to end fifteen minutes ago.”
A collective, “You suck” went out.
“Don’t blame me,” Boden said. “I don’t make the rules. Take it up with city hall.”
“One more song!” the patrons yelled. “One more song!”
Colt laughed. “You want the police chief to break city ordinance?” For fun, he played a riff of “I Fought the Law” on his Stratocaster, then quickly put it down. “Thanks for coming out, everyone. Drive safely, and if you’ve had one too many, don’t drive at all.”
Colt started to get off the stage but was ambushed by a combination of old friends and folks he’d never met before who told him and the rest of the band how much they’d enjoyed the show. Jack and Carrie Jo joined the queue. Colt couldn’t tell if they’d come together. Dumb-ass Carrie Jo probably didn’t even realize that Jack had the hots for her.
He schmoozed while keeping one eye on Delaney, who’d hung back with Josh, Hannah, TJ, Win, and Deb. The six of them were polishing off the last of the beer when Colt finally managed to break away.
“Your adoring fans.” TJ lifted an eyebrow and Colt flipped him the bird. “What happened on ‘Crazy about You’?”
Colt gave what he hoped was a nonchalant lift of his shoulders. “Didn’t feel like doing it.”
“Bullshit.”
Josh grabbed TJ’s arm. “Leave it alone.”
“Yeah,” TJ said, “let’s not rock the boat. We wouldn’t want Colt to actually stand up for himself.”
“That’s enough, TJ,” Colt said. “If you can’t hold your booze, you shouldn’t drink. I’m going home. Thanks for coming,” he said to the group, and headed for the stage to collect his guitars and amplifier.
“You think I could get a ride with you?” Delaney came up behind him. “I walked.”
“Sure.” He’d wondered if she’d need a ride. He certainly didn’t want her walking home alone in the dark.
She waited while he packed everything up and helped him carry it to his truck.
“Thanks for coming tonight,” Colt said. For being my inspiration. “You like the show?”
“You were amazing,” she said as he hefted two of the guitar cases into the bed and opened the passenger side door for her. “It wasn’t what I expected.”
“No? What did you expect?” he asked, after sitting behind the wheel and starting the engine.
Her expression turned sheepish. “Truthfully, a garage band. I thought you’d do a lot of covers. ‘Stairway to Heaven,’ that sort of thing.”
He released the emergency brake. “We did plenty of covers.”
“But you did them in your own style ... and the originals. . . you’re extremely talented, Colt. I’m serious. You could be a professional songwriter. That one about the old man who dies of a broken heart made me tear up. Somehow I didn’t see you as the ballad type.”
“I’m just full of surprises.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t look good on you, Colt. Now I know that all that gruffness is a big act. You’re squishy as a marshmallow. Sentimental too.” She paused. “Is music how you met Lisa?”
“Yeah. She saw us play at Old Glory one night. During the break, she came over, complimented the set and mentioned she was a singer. We invited her to do a song with us, not expecting much. Turned out she blew us away.”
“You asked her to join the band after that?”
“We’re pretty good musicians. Vocals, though, not so much. It made sense. Having her front the band also got us more gigs.” Lisa not only rocked a song, she rocked a miniskirt. Sad to say, for some that was enough.
Colt pulled out of the small parking lot behind the bar and nosed onto Main Street. It only took a few minutes to get home, but he didn’t want her to leave. He let the engine idle in front of her house and tried to make small talk. Tomorrow was his day off, so even though it was past two in the morning, he didn’t need to rush.
“How come you didn’t want to play ‘Crazy about You’? I don’t listen to country music but I know it’s Lisa Laredo’s big hit.”
You’d have to live under a rock not to know that, he nearly responded.
“Did she write it about you, Colt?”
The clock on his dash ticked away while he contemplated how to respond. “Not exactly. It’s a little more complicated. I don’t talk about it.”
“I got that impression.”
Then why the hell did you ask? “You got an early morning?”
“It’s already morning, but no. Unless I’m making cargo pants, I usually just stare at a blank sheet of my sketch pad.”
“It’s still not happening, huh?”
“Nope,” she said. Like he didn’t want to talk about “Crazy about You,” she plainly didn’t want to talk about designing. “So what was that last song you sang? It sounded like an old Irish folk song, yet vaguely familiar.”
Probably because he’d been playing it a lot. Living so close, she might’ve heard him tinkering with the chords.
“‘Galway Girl’?” he said. “It was written by an American, Steve Earle, and released in 2000. You like it?”
“It was my favorite.”
Their eyes met and in a low voice, he said, “The girl in the song looks like you.”
“She does?”
“Mm-hmm.” Unable to resist, he leaned over and kissed her on the lips. Closed mouth and tentative to test the waters. She didn’t pull back, so he went in for more, pulling her closer. The gear shift was in the way, making it awkward. And uncomfortable. But he was all about perseverance. And he wanted her to the point of being stupid. In fact, his mind had completely disengaged. Right now, his cock was doing the thinking, and unfortunately he was okay with that.
“She has black hair and blue eyes,” he said against her mouth. “Beautiful . . . like you.” So beautiful, she made his pulse race. “I’ve been thinking about this since that first kiss.”
She twined her arms around his neck and tugged him in for more. “Aren’t you breaking your hometown rule?”
“Yep,” he whispered as he nibbled on her earlobe and worked his way down to the nape of her neck. “Colossally bad idea.”
“But you’re ready to throw caution to the wind?” she asked, as his lips moved over her throat.
“More than likely I’m getting fired anyway. May as well go out with a bang.” Probably a bad choice of word. He blindly reached for the ignition and shut off the engine.
“Wow, you really know how to romance a girl.” She arched her neck, giving him better access.
He grinned against her soft skin, enjoying the back and forth. She made him work for it, which he usually didn’t have to do with women. “Hey, I took you to the Four Seasons and to the Indian place . . . had you over for wine.”
“Should we do it in the cab of your truck?” Her hands moved down his arms, making his stomach contract.
“I prefer a bed.” He couldn’t tell how serious she was, but they were both pretty worked up from the kissing. “Too old for trucks.”
“You looked pretty limber this morning at the kayak races.”
“If it means that much to you.” He played with the front of her blouse, grazing her breasts with his hands. “You sure you’re not drunk?”
“I’m sure.”
“Good.” He fumbled with the buttons. Although they both possessed way more finesse than teenagers, he felt like he was back in high school when everything was new and fresh and so damn exciting that it made his heart stop and his palms sweat.
“Hang on a sec.” He restarted the engine and pulled the truck into their disputed parking space. It was a little more private. “Where were we?”
“Here.” She launched herself over the gear shift and climbed into his lap, straddling him.
He slipped his hands down the back of her jeans, pressed her against his erection, and resumed kissing her into next Tuesday. “You feel so good.”
His hands moved over something silky. Panties, a thong, the tail of her shirt; he wasn’t sure. Wanting to get her pants off, he fumbled with her zipper. But it was impossible in such tight quarters. Damn, he used to be better at this. “Delaney, honey, let’s take this inside.”
“Don’t. Want. To. Move.” She rocked against him until he thought he would go off like a fire hydrant.
He managed to get his door open and lift her out of the cab. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he practically ran up her deck stairs because her house was closer.
“Keys.” He stuck his hand out.
“I left them in my purse in your truck.”
“Shit.” He ran back with her still in his arms, her giggles loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood. “Shush.”
He opened the door, juggling her with one arm as he reached across the seat and grabbed the handbag.
“Wow, you’re strong,” she said.
She didn’t weigh that much and he didn’t want to let go of her. Not even for a second.
He threw the purse at her. “Hurry up and find your keys.” Otherwise he was going to take her on the hood of his Ford.
“Got ’em.” She giggled some more.
He jogged back, turned the key in the lock, carried her over the threshold, and kicked the door closed with his foot. Mounting the stairs, he asked where her bedroom was. He’d only been inside her studio.
“Go left,” she said when they got to the landing.
He backed her against the hallway wall and kissed her long and hard. Desperate to get her clothes off ... to get inside her. “Foreplay next time, okay?”
She moaned something indecipherable. He took it as she was good with him going straight to the main course and got her into the bedroom, where he stripped off her clothes as quickly as he could. His eyes glided over her body, slowly taking her in. Jesus, she was gorgeous. Full, firm breasts, flat belly, curvy hips, and legs that wouldn’t quit. As far as he knew he didn’t have a foot fetish, but for some bizarre reason her toenails—pink this time—made him harder than a concrete wall. She went for his belt and he pushed her hands away, afraid he’d come before he even got his pants off. That hadn’t happened since Lucy Singleton had let him get to third base behind the pump house at the lake. He’d been fifteen and still couldn’t look at her without remembering the humiliation.
“Please,” Delaney said, the word coming out in a single breath.
He groped with his buckle, got it undone, and pushed his jeans down, managing to kick them off without tripping over his own legs. Impatient, she got up on the bed on her knees and tugged his shirt over his head. He shucked his shorts and stood over her, naked, his hands itching to touch her breasts. She pulled him down onto her frilly comforter and he mounted her.
Remembering protection, he hung off the edge of the bed and searched the floor for his pants. In the back pocket he found his wallet and a condom. She practically ripped it out of his hand and opened the foil package with her teeth. Before she could put it on him, he tore it away. If she touched him, it would be over before it started. Colt sheathed himself and let his hands wander over her body, wanting to feel every inch of her and weigh her breasts in his palms.
Her skin was soft and smelled like expensive perfume, flowery but not overly sweet, a scent he’d come to know as purely Delaney. She had on fancy underthings, which he planned to pay more attention to later. Right now all he could think about was getting inside her, feeling her supple body underneath his.
She moaned as he kissed the inside of her thighs, spreading open for him. His fingers explored, finding her wet and ready. In one swift motion, he entered her. She adjusted herself so that he could go deeper and he about lost his mind.
“Jesus, Delaney.”
“It’s been a while.”
He slowed his pace and framed her face with his hands. “You okay?” He started to pull out but she stopped him.
“I’m fine.... It’s so good.”
“Good” was a freaking understatement. “I’ll go slow for a little while.” Colt was happy just to be enveloped in her warmth and to hear her sweet little moans of pleasure.
He kissed her, darting his tongue in her mouth to the rhythm of his strokes. God, she was so responsive, her body arching to accommodate him. He sucked her breasts, licking her nipples, and she shivered.
“Colt?”
“Hmm?”
“Faster now, please.”
He quickened the pace, pumping in and out, his hands kneading her firm ass, pulling her closer. She wrapped her heels around his back and he increased the tempo until he felt her clench and shudder, calling his name.
That’s when he let himself go, taking his release, which seemed to go on forever. He lay there for a few minutes, trying to catch his breath, trying to figure out what had just happened.
“You still alive?” He peeked under his arm at Delaney, who wasn’t moving.
“Just barely,” she said, her face flushed and her hair a wild mess. She was so unbelievably beautiful it made his chest hurt.
He rolled off her but she reached for him. “Not yet.”
He wrapped her in his arms and cradled her head against his chest. And for a while they lay there silent, alone with their thoughts. He didn’t know what had just happened, but it had been better than good. Hell, it had been a tsunami. A volcano. An avalanche.
He let his eyes roam over her breasts, hips, and legs, taking in all he’d missed during their frenzied sex. She quickly tugged the blanket over her in a sudden show of modesty, which he found hilarious. Too late for that, sweetheart.
He rolled over and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“Where are you going?”
He glanced at the clock. “It’s closing in on three a.m. Home to get some sleep.”
“Oh.” One word, but she sounded disappointed.
He sat on the edge of the mattress, feeling guilty. “You want me to stay?”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought . . .”
“Let me get rid of the condom.” He found the master bath, which wasn’t hard to miss. It was the size of his old San Francisco apartment. The towels were so fancy he was afraid to dry his hands on them.
He finished up and got back in bed with her. She was still sitting there, propped against the pillows, looking a little shell shocked.
“Delaney, was this a mistake?”
“Not for me. Was it for you?”
Probably. But regretting mind-blowing sex wasn’t in his DNA. He reached over and took her hand. “What’s on your mind, then?”
“Do you think it was a fluke?”
“What? Us sleeping together?”
“How good it was?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Only one way to find out.”