Page 80 of Bartholomew
“So…”
“I —”
We both spoke at the same time.
“You first,” I offered, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, mostly for something to do with my hands. Great, Delilah. Could you be any more awkward? As soon as the question had popped into my mind, I shifted my feet, tripping on thin flipping air and stumbling into Ollie like a crazy person. I made a mental note not to test lady karma. She was a cruel mistress.
“So, is there something you need to tell me?” Ollie asked, hands stuck awkwardly in his pockets. I had never seen him stumble over his words before. At least he was stumbling over his words and not his feet like a certain curvy klutz. That was me. Delilah, goddess of spastic ridiculousness.
“Only that the women of Zion are ridiculous gossips. They will take my words and twist them into whatever story that fits their narrative,” I huffed, with no small measure of disdain.
“I think I’m going to need a little more context than that. Is it true?” he asked, his eyes looking right through me, down to my very soul.
“No,” I answered, then realized that perhaps that wasn’t the full truth. “Well, I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?” he questioned. I had expected there to be panic in his eyes. Lord knew there was plenty of panic in my gut right at this moment.
“I don’t think so. I haven’t missed a cycle,” I explained, feeling the blush heat my cheeks. Cursed blush.
“But it’s possible?” he asked, rocking back and forth on his heels. He was rife with nervous energy. I couldn’t blame him. Thoughts of a baby? Now? With everything in my world rattled to the core?
“It’s possible. But I just don’t know yet. The nerves and anxiety of having everyone here so unexpectedly just made me a bit queasy for a moment. I put my hand on my stomach and —”
“And the women went nuts,” Ollie filled in the blank, nodding as understanding dawned on him.
“Exactly. I’m sorry for the miscommunication,” I sighed, reaching for him. I needed to feel his arms around me again; to feel safe after the hectic chaos that had just occurred. “That was awful,” I murmured against his chest as he pulled me in close, wrapping me up tightly against him.
“The absolute worst,” he chuckled, kissing the top of my head.
“I don’t want to do that again,” I whined. It didn’t matter to me in the slightest that I was acting childish. I was pouting, and I wasn’t about to stop.
“Okay, so what would you rather do now, instead?” he asked. His breath, hot against my skin, blew the wispy hairs at my temple until I shivered in response.
“I could think of a few things,” I coyly teased. Without a second passing, his arms lifted me up, hauling me clear up and over his shoulder.
“Ollie! Put me down!” I shrieked, smacking his back, and trying to wiggle my way out of his grasp.
Smack!
I gasped as his hand full-on spanked my ass; stunned into speechlessness.
“Mouthy little fireflies get spanked, darling.” Too stunned to speak, I thanked the heavens above that my face was in the opposite direction. Otherwise, he would see that my face was as red as I suddenly wanted my ass to be.
CHAPTER17
BARTHOLOMEW
Love? She had thanked me for loving her. My mind had raced long into the night hours, well after she had fallen asleep, wrapped up snuggly in my arms.
Love? Was that what this was? I mean, I had thought about it. Of course, I had. I would have been a fool to not have given it a thought at this point. After less than a month of knowing her, she had imprinted on me in a way I hadn’t known a woman could. Or maybe I had known? Fuck, I didn’t know.
All I knew was that this woman had come into my life in the most ridiculous of ways and had changed everything. She had changed everything by changing almost nothing at all. I had thought that I would have to be someone else when she moved into this house. That I would have to put on a mask like Levi had done. But, I hadn’t. I had let bits and pieces of myself show those first few days, and she had accepted each one of them.
And then there had been those moments, those days where we had bickered and fought, and in the end, she had shown me her own true self. This incredible, resilient woman who had suffered so much. She had hidden her true self away, putting on that same mask that my brothers and I had time and time again. But the woman beneath it? Christ, she was exquisite. She was fiery and strong, beautifully flawed, and utterly irresistible. I craved her. I craved her humor and her kindness. I craved that sass she would throw my way.
Was that love? I didn’t know, but I didn’t want to let it go. I had no intention of letting her go. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get my mind off of last night. I had come home from a day of hell at the church, full of long meetings full of chauvinistic drivel. On and on it had gone, and it was all I could do to plaster on that mask and stay quiet. All the while, my temper boiled under the surface.
I had hated the fact that I had come home in such a mood. I’d had every intention of relaxing, maybe cooking some dinner with Delilah and relaxing the rest of the night, but instead I found her in my study, reading a particularly hot book from my bookshelf; one Meredith had recommended. I had to admit; it was a steamy read and had given me more than a few ideas for my own play. My mood, combined with the thought of Delilah reading those sordid and tempting words, had put my mind on one track, and one track only.
