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“But you’re back now.” She stretches her hand, and her fingers rest against mine.

Leaning in, I look over and meet her eyes. My chest is heavy with adrenaline, with grief, with guilt. “This town takes, darlin’. And the sooner you get the hell away from it, the better.”

My words are rough, and she flinches.

“You talk like you hate Tempest.”

“Could say that.”

“Then why do you stay?” I search her soft brown eyes, see her confusion. “You could move the distillery. Go somewhere else. There’s nothing keeping you here.”

She’s right. In theory, we could pack it all up. Settle our business in another state. But it feels too much like giving up. Our legacy. Our parents’ memory. Tempest has always been a piece of the Westons, no matter how much it has devastated us over the years.

“Grief,” I say simply. “It makes me stay.” Fuck, I need to shut up. Apparently, this girl can get me to open up to just about anything.

A sad smile plays across Delilah’s face, before she whispers, “It can make you run too.”

“That’s who this launch party is really for.” A fresh wave of heartache sweeps through me, and I sigh. “My parents. We’re using the last of their whiskey to make this limited edition.”

“Cole.” Her eyes are wide with shock. “Oh my god…” She gives a sad shake of her head. “It’ll be amazing. I promise.”

“What about you?” I ask, taking in the silhouette of her face. “You said you didn’t have family?” She hesitates. I pin her with a stern glare. “I told you a lot about me, Delilah. Need something from you.”

“I have family. But I don’t see them anymore.” Once again, I notice the way her hand clutches her necklace. “I ran away from home when I was sixteen. I was always on the road with my mother, so it just made sense for me to keep going. I lived in my car once.” Her lashes lower, black, dense on her cheek. Her words are slow, stilted like she’s choosing them carefully. Like she’s wondering if she can trust me. Her eyes meet mine, a sad smile tipping her mouth. “I had a bad relationship with a bad man. Travis.”

Travis.

I want to punch something, preferably Travis, preferably more than once right in the fucking mouth. But I swallow my anger down, not wanting to stop her from finally opening up.

“And then I met Belle. She owns the club.” The look on her face is one of heartbreak, resilience. “She took me in. Got me away from Travis. Gave me a job. She’s like my guardian angel.”

“You been in bad spots, Delilah?” I want to know what exactly she’s running from. Who the fuck put that haunted look in her eyes no amount of time can erase.

Her smile disappears. “Hasn’t everyone?”

“I’m talking about you.”

Fire flashes in her eyes, and damn if I don’t want to kiss every ounce of stubborn out of that gorgeous body of hers. “I’ve always been alone, Cole. This isn’t anything new.”

Fuck, it hurts. That she thinks that. That running is something normal for her. But hell, who am I to judge? I’ve been running my whole damn life. Maybe that’s why I understand her urge to run and not stop.

“Cole?” She blows out another nervous breath before taking a sip of her wine. “Do you think less of me for…for dancing?”

I consider it. Why it burns me up inside, why it has me raging at men I’ve never met, then say, “No. It makes me worried about you.”

The bright smile on her face socks me in the gut. “Cole, you care.”

Fuck. Maybe that’s the reason why I want her secrets. Because I care.

“Never said I didn’t.”

The impulse to kiss her is overwhelming. Can’t stay away. Can’t play off what this night is doing to me.

I’ve never invited a woman to my home, let alone cooked a woman dinner. It’s a cracking of my sanctuary, my shell, inviting someone else in. But it’s easy with Delilah. She’s a different woman than I’m used to. There’s a sexy confidence about her, and yet, she’s also filled with a softness, an innocence I want to keep. Protect.

It doesn’t hurt that she’s so beautiful it’s painful.

“The rain’s stopped,” Delilah whispers like the dark can hear her.