Page 53 of The Edge of Summer
“Then you call me.”
She laughs. “Don’t you think you’re being a little ridiculous?”
“Don’t care. It’s my fault you have to deal with this in the first place. I’m sure as hell not gonna let you drive around with that word painted on your door for the whole fucking town to see.”
Her eyes soften. “Luke, no…”
Now it’s Finn’s turn to clear his throat. An obvious sign that we have long overstayed our welcome. So we settle up with him, and then Delilah and I make our way to my truck.
“Is all this really necessary?” she asks.
I pull open the passenger door and gesture for her to get in. She places one foot on the running board and then swings up onto the seat.
I place a hand on the frame as I lean in, catching her eye. “Driving you to work the day after your car was vandalized? Yes, I would say it’s necessary.”
She huffs as she buckles her seatbelt. I shut the door and then round the truck, getting into my own seat. I turn the key, the engine roaring to life.
When I pull into Dockside’s parking lot a few minutes later, I expect Delilah to get out of the truck and head straight inside. Instead I watch as she unlatches her seatbelt and then climbs over the centre console, knocking her bag onto the floor in the process. She situates herself on my lap, her legs straddling me.
“Shutterbug,” I warn. My hands instinctively find their way to her hips, giving them a light squeeze. “What are you doing?”
She doesn’t respond. Not verbally anyway. She twines her fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck and guides my face toward hers. Her lips are soft, coated in that cherry lip balmI’m afraid I might already be addicted to. As her tongue swirls with mine, her hips rotate, drawing a groan from my throat.
My grip tightens on her hips. As usual, she ignores me. “Delilah,” I say against her lips.
She blinks at me, faux innocent. “Yeah?”
“If you don’t stop, we are both going to be very late to work.”
She grins. “Fine. Thanks for the ride,” she says, swivelling her hips to emphasize her words.
“Delilah,” I growl.
She has the audacity to laugh. “Bye, Chief.”
She leans over and collects her bag from the floor. And then she flings open the door and slides off my lap, leaving me sitting there with pants that are entirely too fucking tight.
I stop at Dockside for lunch. This isn’t out of the ordinary for me—it’s part of my routine. It definitely has nothing to do with the waitress wearing a skirt almost identical to the one I wanted to rip off of her last night.
As I take a seat on my usual stool at the bar, my eyes search for Delilah without my permission. When they find her, she gives me a knowing smile followed by a wink before she focuses back on her table.
The sound of something hitting the bar top startles me. I turn in my seat to find a plate sitting in front of me. I can’t even bring myself to care that it looks like Clara put kale in it. Not when I can still taste Delilah on my lips. As I start to eat,I can feel my sister’s eyes trained on me. I meet her discontent gaze.
“What?”
Clara sighs. “Delilah told me what happened to her car last night. Whatever you’re doing with her, you better be careful,” she says. “She doesn’t need this town talking about her, too.”
This grabs my attention. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that everyone on this island thinks the sun shines out of your ass, so you don’t exactly fly under the radar. Whatever it is that you’re doing—just keep that in mind, okay? I don’t want you giving her a reason to leave.”
“You make it sound like that’s happened before.”
My sister looks down, studying her hands. “It’s been lonely since Hallie left, and Delilah has been a good friend. A genuinely good friend. I just… I don’t want to lose her, too.”
Fuck.
I’ve been so caught up in Delilah—caught up in my attraction for her—that I didn’t even stop to think how this would affect anyone else. Clara and Delilah have become fast friends since the Delacroixes moved here. Getting into something with Delilah—something that could only be temporary—would put that at risk.
