Page 15 of Need You
Chapter Four
Delaney watched Colt approach in board shorts and rash guard, looking better than any male model she’d ever had the privilege of dressing. But as her gaze landed on his face, her stomach sank. He wasn’t coming over for a neighborly chat, that was for sure, and her sour mood from Robert’s call came roaring back.
He pointed at her car. “We’ve got to work this out, Delaney.”
“As far as I’m concerned, there is nothing to work out.” She was tired of being pushed around. By Robert, by Colt, by anyone. “While the easement allows you to drive over the road, it doesn’t give you the right to park on it. End of story.”
“Actually, the easement doesn’t distinguish what I can or cannot do. It simply says the road is to be shared by both of us.” He folded his arms over his chest and waited for her to challenge him. There was a gleam in his eyes and she got the impression that he was enjoying this.
“I’ll have my lawyer look at it,” she said. “In fact, if I have to I’ll go to court over it.” She was bluffing, of course, and a small part of her knew she was taking out her frustration with Robert on Colt.
“No can do. It’s grandfathered in. I honestly don’t get why you’re being so difficult about this.”
“I’m tired of losing, that’s why,” she blurted. Crap. She hadn’t meant to say that. It made her sound petulant and even a little hysterical, but it was the truth. In the last year she’d lost everything.
His demeanor suddenly changed, probably because her lips were quivering and he didn’t want to deal with a sobbing female. “This isn’t a competition, Delaney.” His voice was softer now. Gentler. “I’m not trying to best you; I’m just trying to do right by the town I’m charged with keeping safe.”
Okay, now she really was going to cry . . . for being a bitch and for everything else going wrong in her life. To preserve her dignity and to keep him from seeing the emotional wreck she’d become, Delaney marched off, went inside, and slammed the door shut.
Now he’d think she was crackers for sure. But it was better than falling apart in front of her arrogant neighbor.
Earlier, Robert had delivered the coup de grâce. He claimed the divorce decree required her to take the Delaney Scott name off her handbags and shoes—the ones already manufactured and in stores as opposed to just future products. It being Sunday, she couldn’t get a hold of her attorney. But if there was any truth to what Robert said it would cost her a fortune to have her name removed, not to mention that the merchandise would be worthless without it. Consumers paid three times as much for a product with a designer label.
Work was the only thing that would take her mind off impending bankruptcy. She headed for the stairs, and halfway to her studio the doorbell rang. Crossing the front room to the foyer, she gazed through the peephole. Colt stood there, holding up a six-pack of beer. For a second, she considered ignoring him, turning off the lights, and pretending she wasn’t home. Silly, because he knew she was. She took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and opened the door.
“I come in peace,” he said, and handed her the beer. “I don’t know what just happened out there, but I have a feeling it has nothing to do with me or the easement road. But maybe I’m wrong.”
“No, you’re not wrong.” She let out a sigh, opened the door wider, and moved aside so he could enter. “Come in.”
He stepped over the threshold and swept his gaze around the room. “Big place you’ve got here.” She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not.
Leading him into the kitchen, she got down two pilsners from the cupboard and poured them each a glass. The beer was cold. Straight from his refrigerator, she presumed.
“It’s a local microbrew,” he said, watching her examine the label. “A couple of friends of mine make it.”
She nodded, pushed the glass across the center island, and offered him a seat at the bar. “I’m sorry about before. I may have overreacted.”
“May have?” He quirked an eyebrow, then immediately checked himself. “You know, I don’t think we ever did the new-neighbor thing, like maybe I was supposed to bring you a cake or something when you moved in.”
That was nearly a year ago, she thought to herself. “You bake?”
“No.” He chuckled. “I meant it just seems like we bypassed ‘hello’ and went straight to fighting over parking. So, can we start over? I’m hoping beer is an acceptable substitute for cake.”
“Okay.” She flashed a small smile and held the glass up to him in a toast. “Today . . . was difficult. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
She suspected he wanted to ask her about it but settled for “I get it,” instead.
“It doesn’t mean I’m ready to cede the parking space to you, but I’m usually less ... emotional.”
“Would you let me use it when you aren’t charging your car, at least when I’m on call?”
“When’s that?”
“Pretty much always. The assistant chief takes half the week and I take the other half. But if it’s something big, I always go out.”
“What counts as big?” It was a relatively small town and there didn’t seem to be much crime, not like in LA.
“Anything that involves a fatality or in some circumstances a violent crime, big car accident, or a suspicious fire.”
