Page 82 of Finding Denver
He grins. “Wanna go inside?”
“Yes, please.”
We head back to the hotel. It’s close to nine thirty, andColt walks me to the door. I’m already warmer as I slide the keycard in and step inside.
“Thank you for taking me out,” I say, facing him.
“You’re welcome, Del.”
“Do you want to come in?” I ask. “I have chocolate and room service.”
“It’ll take more than that to get me into bed, Deluxe.”
I snort and roll my eyes, opening the door wider, and he steps over the threshold.
“I’m not telling you.”
“Come on!” Colt says, spooning more ice cream into his mouth. “Give me the details. Who plucked Denver DeLuca’s flower?”
We’re both on the couch, our shoes are off, and we ordered room service and watched a movie.The Godfatherbecause I’ve never seen it, and Colt pointed out several scenes he called far too accurate to be made up, and I gushed over a young Al Pacino. Now,Beauty and the Beastis playing in the background as we talk.
My smile is hurting my cheeks. “If I tell you, then you cannot tell anyone,” I say, and point my spoon at him. “And I mean anyone.”
His eyes light up. “Scout’s honor.”
“Were you in the Scouts?”
“No, but it’s a saying.”
I focus on my ice cream. “Noah Merrick.”
His mouth drops open. “Robert Merrick’s son? You’re lying.”
Noah Merrick, whose father and mine were closefriends. The Merricks are a smaller family, but still powerful, and Robert still checks in on me from time to time.
“It’s true,” I wrinkle my nose. “In his pool house. We were sixteen, and our dads had just told us we weren’t allowed to date, so that immediately made it the thing we wanted the most. And then we did it and panicked. We knew my dad would try to kill Noah, then Robert would try to kill my dad, so we never spoke again.” Colt laughs and I grin. “He was so sweet, though. I think we felt a little like Romeo and Juliet.”
“That’s cute,” he says. “Why can’t I tell anyone? What trouble would it cause now?”
“I think I’m afraid my dad can still hear me.” I eyeball the ceiling. “Sorry, Dad.”
Colt places his empty bowl on the coffee table and leans closer to me. “What was your dad like?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the stories.”
“Yeah, his reputation, but not him.” He rests his head back against the cushion and watches me. “Tell me something no one knows.”
I suck on my spoon for a moment, recounting endless moments when my dad wasn’t being Nico DeLuca. When he was just my dad, and he made me laugh, embarrassed me, and told me he loved me a dozen times a day as if he thought I could ever forget.
“He made me do the cha-cha with him before prom.”
Colt’s grin lights up his face. “My mom made me dance with her before prom, too.”
“Oh my God, dance with me.” I hop up and place my bowl down, grab his hand, and he groans. “Please! It’ll be fun!” He becomes a dead weight, and I pout, tugging on his hand. “Please, Colt.”
“Fine.” He sighs, and I pull him to his feet. He pushes the coffee table aside and pulls me close, our bodies pressed together. “I’m a great dancer, by the way.”
“Then impress me.”
