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“When did she pass?” I whisper.
“Eight years ago now. I still can’t believe she’s gone. Some days it hits me like a tidal wave, you know?”
Delilah's hand comes up to her neck as if it's a habit when she's anxious. After patting her skin a few times, she curls her fingers into a fist and rests it against her heart.
“We had matching necklaces,” she continues. “Silver chains with a little plate that had a daisy etched on it.” That makes sense. When thinking about her grandma, she wanted to touch a piece of jewelry that was special to both of them. “I keep reaching for it, but I lost it last year.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Your grandma sounds like she was really special to you.”
Delilah nods slowly, then seems to snap out of whatever sad reverie she was stuck in.
“She was. But that’s all in the past now.”
Just like that, the mask is securely in place. It doesn't fool me anymore, though. Delilah let me see a side of her I don't think anyone else has seen. She showed me a weakness and even told me a bit about her past.
Even as we say our goodbyes for the day, I know I’ll be thinking about her until I see her again. Hell, I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since the day we met. I have a feeling I’m totally fucked when it comes to this woman. I already can’t wait for when I see her tomorrow morning.
5
DELILAH
Ifinish rinsing off the freshly cut rose stems before placing them in a vintage teal vase. Every time I use the sink, I get a dopey smile on my face and my cheeks heat up at the memory of Archer yesterday.
He surprised me at the hardware store by being helpful, and then he went and fixed my sink. Archer even had the patience to explain what he was doing and why, and he never made me feel stupid for asking questions like my mom did. She expected me to know everything already, but how could I, when she wouldn’t teach me or give me the time of day?
I try to focus back on the arrangement I’m almost done putting together. My heart is getting all twisted and tangled up in Archer’s understanding gaze and soft-spoken words. As much as I love his gravelly voice, there was something so… intimate about the way he talked to me yesterday. Like I was precious and worth taking time on.
I can't get used to that kind of attention, though. Besides, settling down with a guy and getting married isn't in my five-year plan. And someone like Archer? Tall, chiseled, sexy as hell, sharp-witted, and helpful and sweet when I need him to be? I’m surprised he doesn’t have a significant other.
Wait.
He totally could. Why didn’t I think of that earlier? Not that it matters. Girlfriend, boyfriend, or whatever partner he does or doesn’t have shouldn’t make a difference to me one way or the other. Archer isn’t mine, and he never will be. Why would he even look twice at a naive girl with too many curves and a chip on her shoulder?
Then again, the way he hugged me back after I wantonly threw myself in his arms…
The bell above my door rings, alerting me to a customer. I’m about ready to close up shop, but I’m in no position to turn down a paying customer. Besides, I need a distraction from the tall, tatted, sexy beast next door.
“Hi, and welcome to– oh.” I’m shocked to see Archer making his way up to the counter. So much for a distraction.
“Is this a bad time?” he asks, giving me his signature grin.
"For the best construction Foreman in the world? Never," I say with an extra dramatic flare and eye-roll. Archer rewards me with a full smile, and good lord, it should be illegal for someone to look so damn handsome.
“I was wondering…” Archer clears his throat and rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “I was thinking maybe you…” The normally confident and slightly cocky Archer looks… nervous? Do I make him nervous?
I come around to the other side of the counter, standing in front of Archer with an eyebrow crooked up. "Well, now I'm definitely interested," I tell him, putting one hand on my hip. His eyes dart to where my fingers are spread out over my hip, and a shiver runs down my spine.
“Dinner?” he blurts. I stare at the man in front of me, not quite making the connection between his words and his meaning. He huffs out a frustrated breath, then looks up as if the secrets of the universe are written on the ceiling.
“Dinner,” I repeat. “Are you asking me to dinner? Like a…”
“Date,” Archer confirms with a nod. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little rusty when it comes to this kind of stuff.” He gives me the most adorable self-effacing grin, those brown eyes shining with hope.
It shouldn’t matter, but the fact that he hasn’t dated anyone, or even asked anyone out on a date in a long time draws me closer to him. Does that make me special? Somehow worthy of this man’s time and attention?
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Yes,” I say with more confidence, loving the way his entire expression morphs from apprehensive to joyful.
“Here, I got this for you,” Archer says, pulling out a small jewelry box from his pocket.
