Page 106

Goddamn, she’s gorgeous. Brazen. Beautiful. I kiss her pillowy lips. She ever dances for another man again, he won’t survive.

“Does your hand hurt?” Delilah scoots closer, and I glance down in surprise, realizing I’ve been absentmindedly massaging my palm. “I’ve seen you do that before. When we were fixing the fence.”

“It’s the casualty of a cowboy.” I flex a fist. “Tendonitis. Maybe arthritis.”

Delilah’s lips flatten. My heart stutters as she takes my big hand in her small one and massages it. “Stubborn,” she mutters.

Her fingers knead the fleshy part of my palm. It feels like heaven. I stare at her, and even in the darkened light of my bedroom, there’s something so fierce and fragile about her; I ache to protect her. She let me see her tonight. In every way that matters to a man.

But what would she think if she truly saw me?

“Cole.” Delilah’s soft gasp has me looking over. I follow her gaze to the window. Outside, smoke blackens the sky. “There’s a fire.”

“Not a fire. A bonfire.” My throat feels like there’s a brick in it. “My brothers get together once a month or so to bullshit over a bottle of whiskey. We call it bottle and bonfire.” A motorcycle revs in the distance.

“That sounds fun. Why aren’t you there?” Curiosity sparks in her eyes.

Somehow, she pulls it out of me. Grief. Truth. I rub my jaw, and suck in a burning breath. “I’ve stayed away too long, and now, I don’t know how to get back.”

“What if you go forward?”

“I don’t know how,” I confess. “After Jack…it felt like I’d been living my life on autopilot. I hated my new reality. I wanted to escape.” Emotion fills my lungs. “And I did. For a long time, I felt okay. But that was on the circuit…and coming back home just sharpened that grief somehow.”

She blows out a shaky breath, tears in her eyes. “What was the best thing about Jack?”

“He’d do anything for anyone. Even if he didn’t know you, and he wanted nothing in return.” A weight lifts from my shoulders. I smile at the memory, letting it take me away for a brief second, before I turn to Delilah. “What about Lucy?”

“Lucy.” Delilah exhales, her eyes wet, her expression pensive. “I love that there’s someone else out there who knows her name.” She collects herself, then says, “She was always funny. She could make anyone laugh. She was so kind and always loved giving little gifts that she would find in all the cities we lived.” Her fingers move to her neck, fingering the gold heart that lies above her breastbone and lifting it for me to see. “She gave me this locket on my sixteenth birthday. She always called it my lucky locket.”

“Lucky locket, huh?” I eye the pretty piece of gold.

“I don’t know why. She just did.” She smiles. “Maybe she knew more than I did.” A happy little laugh escapes her lips. “And she made the best fucking pancakes.”

“Breakfast.” I pull my hand from hers to brush my fingertips down her arms.

“Breakfast,” she echoes.

Silence stretches between us, comfortable, easy.

I think about how similar our stories are. She and I both fought to protect the people we love. When Delilah said she understood, she meant it.

Grief has been my shadow for so damn long, but tonight, it feels like the boulder on my heart has lifted.

I tuck her tiny body against my chest and rolls us onto our sides. With her back to my chest, I caress her face. Delilah sighs and relaxes against me. Our hearts thunder together. She reaches back and presses a palm to my cheek. “Night, cowboy.”

“Goodnight, darlin’.”

I don’t fall asleep, not right away. I lie there, Delilah in my arms, her breathing heavy and content.

But her story isn’t all mine yet. The reason she’s at the ranch, the distillery is still a mystery to me.

Only I’m learning fast that I don’t care. Not anymore.

Delilah’s not what I expected and everything I’ve been waiting for.

If I ever needed a reason to move on with my life, she’s lying right here in my arms.

25 Cole