Chapter 22
Delilah
“Worrying about coulda, woulda, shoulda, is as useful as a chocolate teapot.”
~ Grant Turner
Things could be worse, I told myself as I hit my head methodically on the steering wheel. I could be in a hospital bed like Mr. Briggs.
I hadn’t been able to make it over to the hospital until after closing because no one was available to come and cover the shop. My sisters and mom were all in Dallas on a shopping trip, and my dad was fishing.
I’d gone crazy not being able to get to the hospital sooner. I even considered closing the shop, but I knew that I had no real reason to do that. So instead I finished my entire to-do list, including contacting the bank. They informed me that the check had never been deposited or cashed. I’d left a message with Dixie Porter, who handled the donations to try and sort out the mix-up. I still hadn’t heard back from her.
I had heard from almost everyone else in town, though. Word had spread quickly about Mr. Briggs and instead of bringing three or four arrangements I’d ended up with a baker’s dozen in the back of the van. Thankfully, an orderly had generously offered to help me take them all to his room, and we’d used a serving cart to transport them. Mr. Briggs looked tired, but the flowers did seem to brighten his demeanor and Mrs. Briggs had thanked me profusely and asked how I enjoyed the chicken. I hoped she hadn’t caught my blush as I told her how delicious it was.
There’d been no Sawyer sightings, which I’d told myself was for the best. I still wasn’t sure if I believed myself or not.
And now I was broken down on the side of the highway, twenty miles outside of Wishing Well, sitting in Old Faithful. This van was certainly living up to the sarcastic name my dad had given it.
On my forehead’s last trip down to the steering wheel, I just left it resting there. I folded my arms over my face. I was done. I was officially giving up.
I was sure my defeatist attitude wasn’t being helped by the fact that I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since I’d been in Sawyer’s bed. Every time I closed my eyes, a slideshow of my “one time” with Sawyer started playing. But besides that, there wasn’t anything that could make me this grumpy as quickly as feeling helpless.
“Everything okay?”
I raised my head and was startled to see the star of my “one time” slideshow live and in person. What was he doing here? “Is your dad…Is he…”
“He’s fine. Mom sent everyone home.” His left brow rose in question. “How about you? Are you okay?”
For some reason his casual attitude rubbed me the wrong way. I’d been torturing myself all day worrying about him, about how he was doing and he seemed…fine. I opened my mouth and was about to tell him that I was just great, not that he cared—but then I realized that there was no need to be rude. He hadn’t done anything but been a man of his word. He’d made it clear what he was and wasn’t offering, and like a fool, I’d taken him up on it.
Since I didn’t want to be unkind, I took a page out of Sawyers book and just delivered the bare minimum of necessary information. “Van broke down.”
Sawyer gave me that little trace of a smile that was his signature move. The one that would leave me wondering for days and days whether I’d just imagined it because I wanted to see it so bad, or if he had really been amused by something I’d said.
This time, I wouldn’t have to wonder. He was definitely amused by me, but not because I was so witty and clever.
“I can see that.”
Without even asking if I needed—or wanted—his help he pulled open my door. I was getting to be a master at deciphering his subtle and unspoken forms of communication.
“I called triple A.”
There was the slightest tick in his jaw before he stated the obvious. “It’s getting dark.”
I bit the inside of my lip and considered my options. I knew that I didn’t need to be here for them to tow the van, this wasn’t my first time at the roadside assistance rodeo. And I’d much rather get a ride home, take a hot, soothing bath, and then eat something—which I’d forgotten to do today.
With a sigh, I snatched the useless keys out of the ignition and got out of the van, following him to the passenger side of his vehicle, where he opened the door for me and held my elbow as I climbed in.
My dark angel.
If he weren’t such a gentleman, it would be so much easier to squash my feelings for him. But, he was what he was, and he did what he did. So, I realized that I was going to have to resign myself to the fact that I also was who I was, and did what I did—and that was, love Sawyer. There was no way around it.
He climbed into his side of the truck, turned his key in the ignition—which worked perfectly, and off we went.
I fidgeted beside him. “I saw your dad. He looks good.”
“Yeah. He does.”
“He was giving one of the nurses the business about not wanting to eat tapioca pudding.”
Sawyer grinned and the sight had my heart pitter pattering. I ignored it.
Hoping to sound like the concerned friend that I was, I casually mentioned, “I don’t know if you got my text, I messaged you as soon as I hear—”
“I got it.” His shoulders tensed and I didn’t need to be a body language expert to pick up on the fact that he didn’t want to discuss it any further.
As we drove into town, my defeatist attitude got a shot in the arm. I was seized by a sudden urge. An overwhelming impulse to grab this opportunity with both hands and not let it go.
I mean, it wasn’t as if Sawyer and I were riding around in a small-enclosed space together with no interruptions every day of the week. It’d happened twice in all the time that I’d known him. This was a rare chance. A chance where I had him as a captive audience. He had to listen to what I said. He had very few other choices.
I knew this wasn’t, perhaps, the best time. But how bad could hearing that someone loved you be? Before I could talk myself out of it, I counted backward and took the plunge.
“I’m in love with you,” I stated, my tone matter-of-fact.
This wasn’t a “begging him to feel the same way” type of situation. It wasn’t even an “I hope this is the turning point that will make things come together for us” kind of a thing.
No, this was just a “Delilah is sick and tired of hoping people know how she feels and then being disappointed when they don’t” situation.
His reaction was something I had no control over. But laying out the facts? That was completely in my control, and I was going to take charge of my part. I was woman, hear me roar, and all that.
“I understand that you don’t feel the same way. And that’s fine. Well, it’s not, I mean, I wish things were different. With my whole heart, I wish that you felt the same way about me. But, how you feel or don’t feel doesn’t change the way that I feel. And what I feel is…love. Plain and simple. I love you. I don’t need you. I’ll be fine and go on with my life without you. I just wanted you to know that I love you.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time. He didn’t even look at me.
My stomach churned. I was sweating, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the overwhelming heat outside of the vehicle.
I started to doubt myself. Did I honestly think that I could bare my heart and soul to him—make myself that vulnerable—and just not care what his reaction might be? That I would actually feel empowered?
News flash: I didn’t feel empowered, and I did care what his reaction was.
What kind of a person would think that they could just declare their undying love for someone and walk away as if nothing happened? A crazy person, that’s who.
Yep. That’s what everyone was going to say about me after I adopted my thirty cats and started walking around in thrift stores, wearing mismatched hand-me-downs, and rocking a rat’s nest for hair.
That Delilah, they would say, she was such a great girl. She had it all together until she started reading self-help books and worked up the delusional courage to tell Sawyer Briggs how she felt about him. Then they’d shake their heads sadly at the tragedy of it all and cluck their tongues. Such a shame, they’d say. Poor girl, she should’ve known better.
But, I’d decided to put myself out there and at least I could look back and know that I’d left it all on the field of love.
Sawyer suddenly jerked the wheel to the left. His arm covered me, keeping me in place. I was just recognizing the déjà vu of it all when the tires screeched to a stop. I opened the eyes that I hadn’t even been aware that I’d closed to see that he’d pulled into the picturesque spot by the river where we had eaten together after the fundraiser.
The location of our first date. At least, in my book, it was a date.
My heart suddenly sank into my stomach as an unsettling thought occurred to me. This was a full circle kind of a thing. He’d pulled in here because he was planning to let me down easy.
It was private. There were some people across the river, but they were far away, on the other side of the bridge. There was no light other than the stars to illuminate us.
I ached everywhere at the thought of him telling me that he’d made it clear that he didn’t have feelings and all we’d had was sex. My bones felt like acid was slowly leaking from the marrow.
Inhaling slowly, I steeled myself for his next words. I tried to tell myself that at least I wouldn’t spend my entire life wondering what would’ve happened if I’d had the courage to lay it all on the line. The outcome wasn’t going to be what I’d hoped, but I would know that now, and I could grieve the loss of that dream and move on. Better than living in limbo.
And I almost believed it. Still, there was a little voice in the back of my head telling me that I was an idiot for thinking that way; that I should’ve continued to live my predictable little life where I could at least curl up at night with the warm memory of my one time with Sawyer without it being tarnished by this. That wouldn’t have been entirely satisfying, but at least it had been safe. And a heck of a lot less embarrassing.
But, when I found the courage to turn towards Sawyer, the it’s-not-you-its-me wasn’t the vibe I was getting. His intense stare held mine for a long moment. The emotion in his golden gaze was flicking back and forth like he was searching for something. Like he was trying to come to some sort of difficult decision.
I lost all the breath in my lungs. It didn’t matter what the circumstances were, good news or bad news. I was never not going to be breathless when Sawyer looked at me with such unbridled focus. It was just one of those things.
As I waited to see what the next words out of his mouth would be, he did the one thing that I had not anticipated or prepared myself for. He leaned forward and grabbed me up in his arms, crushing me to him and kissed me. Hard.
Well, that’s better than a you-don’t-mean-anything-to-me speech any day of the week, a little voice said, and then my mind was spinning too furiously to listen to any of my own thoughts.
The only thing in my universe, the only thing that existed at all, were Sawyer’s lips, and his arms, and the way that his tongue was exploring my mouth with a delicious mix of gentleness and power. That was all there was room for in there, and all there would ever be room for.
I threw my arms around him and my fingers fisted in his hair, pulling him even closer to me. I needed to get closer to him, as close as I possibly could get. That hunger, that desire, that craving filled me like nothing else ever had.
It seemed like there was no amount of closeness that would be enough, no amount of touching that would be enough, no amount of kissing that would be enough. It would all just never be enough. Not when it came to Sawyer. I had an insatiable appetite for him, and that was just one more thing that I was beginning to accept as an immutable law of nature. The sky was blue. The earth was round. And I would never be able to get enough of Sawyer.
He must’ve sensed my desperation, or felt some of his own because the next thing I knew he’d shifted his seat back and pulled me onto his lap. With his help, my legs straddled him, and since I was wearing a dress that was now bunched up around my waist, the only barrier between my heated core and his was a scrap of cotton and denim.
His hands framed my face, and he took control of our kiss, taming it from its frenzied pace to a slower, more intentional and sensual connection. He kissed me like he needed me to breathe, like I was his oxygen and he couldn’t survive without me.
I lost myself in the sensation. My hands roamed his shoulders as my hips rolled into his erection that I could feel straining behind his jeans. The night that we’d spent together was out-of-this-world-incredible, but there was something that I’d wanted to do and hadn’t. I’d regretted not tasting him, not taking him in my mouth. And now, I could remedy that.
Seizing the moment, I slid my hand between our bodies, I kept kissing him as I fumbled with his fly. After several failed attempts, I managed to get his pants undone, and then I freed him from the confines of his boxers.
Now, I did break our kiss so I could see what I was holding. My fingers wrapped around him and I stared down in awe. I began shimmying off his lap, but he tightened his hands on my waist.
I looked up at him and saw that his jaw was set in that stubborn way that I used to find intimidating, but now I found adorable. Adorable. That wasn’t a word I ever would’ve guessed I’d be using for Sawyer Briggs.
“I want to taste you. I want to feel you in my mouth.” At my detailed explanation, his head fell back, and he moaned.
I shifted so that I was sitting beside him, lowered my head, and wrapped my lips around his swollen tip. As I sucked him into my mouth, going slowly so as to savor the feeling and taste of each new inch, I ran my tongue all around its surface as I went. I kept my jaw relaxed to try and take as much of him as I could. When he hit the back of my throat, I pulled back up. When I started going down again, one of Sawyers’ hands fisted in my hair and the incredible, rough sound of a groan tore from deep in his throat.
Hearing the pleasure I was bringing the man I loved was a lot more emotional than I’d ever felt during any blow job. I knew that I was raw and vulnerable from my confession. I knew that this was most likely still just sex to Sawyer. And I knew that I was going to have to deal with the repercussions of both of those things. But not right now. I didn’t let myself think about that. Instead, I lived in the moment, because this was a moment that I could live in forever.