Page 70 of The Edge of Summer
“I do,” I reply. My lips quirk up as I try to lighten the mood. “It’s become something of a habit. Very inconvenient.”
Because I shouldn’t want you as much as I do.
She laughs, and the sound is music to my ears. “My bad,” she says. She fiddles with the sleeve of the hoodie. “Now that I’ve properly made a fool of myself, I should go. You probably have a lot of work to do.”
“Hold on.” Turning back to my desk, I grab my phone and keys. “Where’s Sophia right now?”
Delilah looks at me curiously. “She’s at Haven House. Abbie begged your mom to let her come over this morning so they could jump in puddles together.”
“And Parker?”
“In his room, playing video games. The rain— It doesn’t affect himlike it does me.”
“C’mon.” I tug on her hand, pulling her toward my office door.
She follows willingly. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home.”
When Jodi spots me with my hand on the small of Delilah’s back, she smiles and nods approvingly. I roll my eyes. These days, she never shuts up about Delilah and what a positive influence she’s had on me. I can’t deny that meeting her has changed my life for the better, but Jodi is living in fairytale land. What Delilah and I are doing is purely casual, and that’s how it’s going to stay. I care about her. Of course I do. But it can’t be more than that. Itisn’tmore than that.
The rain has abated some, but Delilah and I still cross the parking lot toward my truck through an onslaught. I tug open the passenger door and shut her inside, and then I round the hood. My shirt is entirely soaked, and the once-dry hoodie that Delilah wears is now damp.
As I pull out onto the road, I remember something. “That picture you sent me,” I say. “You took that this morning?”
“Oh.” When I glance to the passenger seat, her focus is out the window. She avoids looking at me. “Yeah. It’s been a few months since I picked up my camera, so I know it’s not that great, but I got out before the storm started. The beach was empty. I was the only one watching the sunrise.”
The picture was taken at Anchor’s Bay Beach, the one that sits below Dockside, right near the harbour. The water was still, and in the sky, the sun was beginning to rise. The lake looked so clear, like you could almost see to the bottom.The sky was a canvas of orange and yellow. In short, it was beautiful.
“You have talent, Shutterbug. I wish you wouldn’t hide it from the world.”
Finally, she turns away from the window and looks at me. “Really?” Her voice is shy, completely unlike the Delilah I know. “You think so?”
“Yes,” I reply with a chuckle. “And so does that judging panel for the contest. You knocked it out of the park.”
From my peripheral, I can see her chewing on her bottom lip as she agonizes over something in her head. “I don’t know if I’m ready for a whole exhibition,” she admits. “Maybe I should tell Carole to let the second place winner have my spot.”
“You’re ready. That, I have no doubts about.”
She still doesn’t look like she quite believes me, but she smiles anyway. “Thank you.”
She spends the rest of the drive in quiet thought. I let her have the time, turning the radio up. It fills the cab with old country music. And then I take her home.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
DELILAH
Turns out,when Luke said he was taking me home, he meanthishome. He lives on the outskirts of town, surrounded by trees. I watched them go by through the window as I tried to figure out where we were going. As soon as we pulled up to the house, I knew it belonged to him.
By the time we make it inside, we’re both soaked through from the rain. I feel chilled down to my bones and shivers rack my body to prove it.
Luke guides me to his en suite bathroom and orders me into the shower. When the door shuts behind him, I strip out of my clothes and step under the hot stream. It steadily washes away the chill. After relishing the warmth for a few minutes, I find some shampoo and body wash on the built-in shelf. As the shampoo slides out onto my palm, I take in the familiar scent. It smells exactly like Luke.
When I get out of the shower, I find a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants laid out on Luke’s bed, waiting for me. I slip the shirt over my head, his clean laundry scent washing over me.The hem of the shirt hits low enough that I decide not to bother with the sweats.
I leave his bedroom behind and pad down the hallway in search of the man himself. I find him in the kitchen, setting two mugs out on the counter. I’m not sure what he’s intending to make, but I don’t plan to let him finish.
