Page 22 of Can’t Say No

I slide out of the booth and take two sure steps to Delaney’s side, pulling her up beside me. Draping my arm around her narrow shoulders, I guide her straight into the lion’s den.

I lean in, lips just touching the tip of her ear.

“It’s showtime, baby.”

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

In keeping with my Saturday morning tradition, I’m sitting on my back deck, coffee in hand, enjoying the sunrise. Teaching has forever ruined my ability to sleep in, but I don’t mind when the view is this good. The deck looks out over the apple orchard and, beyond that, the rolling hills this part of Tennessee is known for. The land has been in my family for nearly a century.

When my dad needed to step back, he asked me to take over most of the management of the orchard. A simple task in theory, but in practice, it’s been a bitch and a half to keep up with.

Still, as much as this place exhausts me, the rows and rows of trees are gorgeous, and the view pairs well with my morning cup of coffee.

It doesn’t pair quite as well with the glow of my laptop screen as I analyze the contract Delaney’s team sent over.

This thing is nothing if not thorough.

The exact number of pictures of us together and what kind, the details of three staged dates for paparazzi to capture, an amicable breakup by Christmas, it’s all there.

All there, and all wrong.

I scratch at my weekend stubble, a nervous habit, and read the contract top to bottom one more time, as if this time I’ll come to my senses and decline.

But I know I won't. After years of disappointing her, ignoring her calls and visits for the sake of my own heart, I can’t let her down now. Not when avoiding her made no difference anyway.

I’m just as in love with her today as I was the day she left.

A figure running past the tree line brings me back to reality. Delaney, out for a jog, with no regard to our property line, as per usual.

Shaking my head, I down what’s left of my coffee and head inside for my running shoes. I tell myself I was always planning on going for a run this morning, that my sudden urgency has nothing to do with a certain bleached blonde running laps through my trees.

That lie sits heavy in my chest as I jog off the deck and into the orchard.

It doesn’t take long for me to find her between the trees. I take her in as she rounds the corner and heads straight for me.

She’s tanned and toned, in a way that only fame and fortune allows. She’s wearing one of those fancy sports bras that criss-cross every which way, the tiniest pair of running shorts, and running shoes that probably cost half my paycheck.

But her high ponytail swinging behind her shows signs of the girl I grew up with. Her darker roots are starting to show, and a few loose strands of her hair cling to her face.

A little bit messy in the best way.

She notices me, and I reluctantly settle my gaze on her face.

“Hey, girlfriend,” I tease as she pulls out her earbuds. “Whatcha listening to?”

“Angry music.” She answers flatly, crossing her arms just under her chest. The action does good things to her breasts, and bad things to my inner thoughts.

“Hmm.” I force my focus back to where it belongs. “Wanna talk about it?”

Delaney sighs, “Just the same old, same old. Nothing to say, really.” Her shoulders sag in a way that breaks my heart.

“Okay,” I say slowly, a grin creeping onto my face. “Wanna race?”

She laughs, “Connor, not this again. We’re not gonna chase each other around in the apple orchard like we’re kids.”

I stretch an arm overhead, and I catch her eyes moving over me for a moment before she quickly looks back to my face. “You’re just scared you’re gonna lose.”

Delaney laughs again, deeper this time. Truer. And damn if it doesn’t make my heart soar. “Of course I’m gonna lose, Marathon Man! The odds are not in my favor.”