He politely placed his hands on a respectful spot on my lower back. He was such a gentleman. He carried himself with a calm, steady disposition, while I was a mess in every sense of the word. I remember feeling so small in those big, strong hands. I rested my wrists on his shoulders. He kept a tasteful distance between us, or as Sister Martha would say, enough room for Jesus Christ.
Though our torsos were not touching, I could feel the warmth radiating between us. My cheeks burned with a flush that betrayed every emotion swirling inside me, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not mask the awe written across my face. I stared into his deep blue eyes, ringed by dark, impossibly thick lashes, and wondered if I looked as crazy as I felt. I became lost in the intensity of his gaze.
God, he's gorgeous. Jerk. Why do men hit the genetic lottery with eyelashes? So unfair.
He must have been confused by my unreadable expression because he asked, “are you okay?”
I managed to nod,but I still could not form words yet. The music began to flow from the speakers, and I instantly recognized the song as “Hey There Delilah” by The Plain White T’s. This was clearly Hannah’s doing. She must have chosen it.
The song debuted and became a hit just after Danny died. Hannah used to sing it to comfort me as I cried, lying beside me and wiping my tears. Now, she seemed to be comforting me in a different way, nudging me forward to move on.
Flooded with emotion, I realized I was still being incredibly awkward, so I blurted out the first thing I could think of. “This is my song!”
“Oh yeah? I like this one too,” he replied sweetly. “No, I mean this ismysong. My name is Delilah.”
He raised his strong brows, a smile full of perfect white teeth spreading across his face. Then his expression changed. It shifted into something closer to disappointment.
“Well, now I’m upset,” he said.
I paused, dumbfounded. What could this beautiful man possibly be upset about? What did I do? Shit. Shit. The horny frat fuck boy comment. I had completely forgotten. I had gotten lost in his captivating aura. He pulled me in like a moth to a light.
“Why?” I asked nervously.
I already knew why. I asked anyway because it was all I could manage.
As we gently danced to the soft music, the rhythmic movement became a comforting lullaby, easing the ache lingering in my heart. The busy banquet hall seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us, existing somewhere beyond space and time.
In that moment, I realized how eager I was to love again. I was ready to feel something other than despair and loss. Everything felt warm and good. It felt right.
He felt right.
I was ready to fall for Jared.
He gazed into my eyes and answered with a serious expression. “Because now every time I hear this song, I’m going to think about dancing with the most breathtaking woman I’ve ever seen and be reminded that she’s out of my league.”
My body reacted instantly to his words. I felt myself melt into a puddle, my knees genuinely weak. Up until that moment, I thoughtswooning was something Hollywood invented for soap operas for added drama. But there I was, swooning over this god of a man.
Everything broken inside me stirred. Where dread and despair had lived, hope and excitement had taken their place. Had this been Hannah’s plan all along, to set me up with Jared? Later conversations with her would prove my suspicions right.
We spent the rest of the wedding reception together on the dance floor, moving nonstop until the music shifted into a nightclub vibe.
Most of the family and kids had cleared out for the night, leaving only the party crowd.
He paused. I could tell he was searching my face for a cue, trying to figure out whether I wanted to keep dancing to the raunchier music. With plenty of Grey Goose coursing through my veins, I felt brave.
Fuck it. Time to rip the Band-Aid off, Delilah.
With something feral flickering in my eyes, I stepped closer without breaking eye contact. I closed the space between us, my body moving on instinct alone. The reaction between us was immediate and undeniable. When his hands shifted with more confidence, grabbing my ass, my body lit up. It had been starved from being untouched for so long.
A dark, primal look surfaced in his expression, like control loosening just enough to reveal what lived beneath it. He pulled me closer, firm, and sure, and my fingers slid into his dark hair without thought. He smelled incredible. Whatever cologne he wore, mixed with the heat of him, sent me spiraling. My hands traced the strength in his arms beneath the fabric of his shirt.
His gaze dropped slowly, deliberately, and the hunger there made my breath catch.
“So which part isn’t accurate?” I asked.
He blinked, like he was being pulled back from somewhere else, confusion flickering across his face for a brief second.
“The horny frat fuck boy thing,” I clarified. “You said not entirely accurate.”
