Page 20 of 10 Things I Hate About Mistletoe

Delilah reeled back like he’d slapped her. “What?”

“You following me out here. Is it a game because I’m not drooling after you?”

Delilah’s eyes burned, but she wouldn’t cry in front of him. “Fuck you.”

She spun away from him but didn’t go back inside, heading instead for the side gate. Flipping up the latch, she closed it with a slam. Delilah heard him call her name, but she was not slowing down for him. Her only thought was escape.

Without warning, a large hand grasped her arm and spun her around. She lost her balance and found herself pressed into a hard male chest. She thought it was Anthony and placed both hands flat against his front, shoving back, but he didn’t release her. The smell of alcohol and smoke hit her nostrils and Delilah wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Not Anthony.

“Where you running to?” The slurred question came from a voice she didn’t recognize, and she looked up into half-closed eyes staring down at her in the dim lights of the parking lot.

“Back off,” she snapped, fear seizing her chest. She’s never been accosted like this before, and as she turned to search the parking lot, there wasn’t a single body beside the two of them.

“I just wanted to tell you how”—he made some kind of gurgling sound—“pretty you are.”

Delilah’s voice trembled as she shoved him again. “Get the fuck off me!”

The man heaved a stream of vomit over her chest and down the front of her body. Delilah cried out in horror as the warm, noxious ooze settled into the cups of her bra, saturating the soft fabric of the dress to her body. The sound of dripping preceded the sensation onto the tops of her feet and she stared down at the mess in horror.

“Oh, no,” the man mumbled. “I ruined your dress.”

Delilah almost laughed aloud as she thought, The dress can be cleaned but this night is flipping shot. Thanks.

Chapter Six

Way to go, asshole.

Anthony gripped the fence, watching Delilah slam out of the side gate and disappear. He called out to her, but she ignored him.

He couldn’t blame her. She’d come outside to check on him, and he’d lashed out at her because he was pissed off at his family. It wasn’t Delilah’s fault his brother’s appearance brought up shit he’d rather forget about. Being the youngest of five brothers, he’d idolized them, especially Grant, who was the closest to him in age. But the way they’d bailed on his mom to live with their dad had destroyed his admiration for his brothers significantly when he grew up enough to understand why.

Except for his brother Bradley, the rest of the Russo boys were trash.

Anthony pushed off the fence to follow Delilah because she deserved better. He didn’t treat women like garbage, and he needed her to know that.

When he rounded the corner, Delilah was standing over a man curled in the fetal position, and his stomach dropped out. He burst into a run, eating up the gravel in his work boots, and skidded to a halt at her side.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” she sobbed, waving a hand. “He puked on me.”

“What?” The sour smell of vomit hit Anthony at the same time the man on the ground burped.

“I was going to sit in my car, and he grabbed me. I thought he was letting me go, but then he projectile vomited all over me. It’s sticky and stinky, and there are clumps—”

Anthony gagged, and Delilah’s eyes widened, taking a step away from him. “Are you a sympathy puker?”

“No, but you’re being super descriptive, and the—smell—isn’t helping.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Delilah said shrilly. “I am coated in someone else’s stomach contents, trying not to freak out, so if you can’t handle it, then go away.”

“I can handle it.” He nodded toward the parking lot behind her. “I’ve got a gym bag in the back of my truck with my workout clothes. You can change into them and use my gym towels to clean yourself up, at least.”

“I’m not going to fit into your clothes,” she murmured.

Anthony almost scoffed, but he caught the crumpled expression on her face. “If not, I’ve got a blanket.”