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Giggling, she adds, “Good luck, little sis.”
“I don’t need luck. I have the remains of a broken heart as a glaring reminder.”
“Annnd on that note, have a good time and call me tomorrow.”
I hear the judgment in her tone under her laughter. This is no laughing matter, though. “Fine. Talk tomorrow.” At least it wasn’t to my heart four years ago.
But here I am, still running to the bathroom to check my appearance when I hear a knock on the front door. I smack my lips together to spread the gloss while I make my way to answer it. It’s like I don’t have a care in the world despite my whole body and mind caring too much, siding with my sister.
I will not sleep with him, making this the easiest wager in history to win. We’re not the same people than we were four years ago. Considering I’m not even attracted to Jason Koster anymore, I should have bet money. I swing the door open, my confidence still buzzing.
Holy. Hell.
Lord, help me. I’m in trouble.
The color brown was never fitting for Jason’s eyes—vibrant and full of life, joy, and love. Those words always seem to fit his shade better. Those words still light up that color, though I could never pinpoint the perfect descriptors with basic adjectives. Standing with the screen door open and now face-to-face with him, I see a new emotion hidden inside near the darkness of his pupils. I’m thinking it’s life. It gets to us all at some time or another, but his concerns me. What has stolen the light from his eyes?
“Hi,” he says with a smirky grin. Shelby was right. My panties never stood a chance. Poof. Yup, he’s still got it.
I walk out, definitely needing to keep him outside and as far from the bedroom as possible. “Hi there, yourself.” Leaning against the railing, I keep a few feet of distance between us, between me and those eyes and that smile, and from how amazing he smells. “So why did you want to have dinner together?”
His gaze lengthens toward his truck. “Because we have to eat. You hungry, Delilah?”
Honestly, I have nothing to prove, and my sister would never really make me pay up on any wager, fictional or real. But when I hear my name roll off his tongue as though he just tasted the sweetest ice cream he’s ever had, I’m reminded of when he used to say it prefaced by three little words I don’t say anymore. My body and mind remember that deep tone all so well as if it was just yesterday. With my heart jumpstarted, I swear my fingers tighten around that old white wood railing.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Good. Yeah. Fine.” I wave my hands in front of me, but when it looks like flailing, I pretend to swat the air. “Damn mosquitoes.”
Looking around, he furrows his brow. “Oh wow, I didn’t notice. Do you want to go inside?”
“No!” I shout. “I mean,” I add, lowering my voice, “no. Outside is good.” He’s staring at me. I bite my lip, shake my head, and dash down the steps. “I’m starved. What’d you bring?”
I make it to the truck before discovering that Jason is still standing on the porch, his head tilted down, his eyes watching me while he scratches the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I ask, leaning my hip against the bumper.
“I didn’t intend to make you so uncomfortable.”
“What were your intentions then?” Holding my arms out, I ask, “You made a show of things in front of the entire town.”
He descends the steps with an ease in his body and a confidence in his stride. “To feed you. I can go if you like.” Would I like that? Or should I take this opportunity to get a few things off my chest as well? Walking right up next to me, he stands with his keys dangling around a finger. “Do you want me to go, Delilah?”
What am I doing? “No,” I confess. “I should kick you off my farm and tell you never to return, but I can’t. I won’t. You want to talk? Let’s talk.”
Reaching into the bed of the truck, he holds up a picnic basket. “And eat? I was thinking we could sit down on the pier.”
“That pier is long past safe these days, but I can grab a blanket or chairs for the grass.”
Holding up a blanket, he adds, “I came prepared.”
“Oh, I bet you did,” I mumble under my breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
He walks around to the passenger side door and opens it for me. “Hop in, honeysuckle.”
Honeysuckle.
I wish I didn’t like that so much, but the memories of how I got the name warm my insides, the taste of his kiss still lingering on my tongue after all this time. He offers me a hand, and I take it without thinking. If I had been thinking, I would have prepared for the current flowing between us like a live wire. I would have remembered how my body always came alive under his touch, and I would have remembered to breathe as my body brushed against his. Hell, if I were thinking at all, I wouldn’t have accepted this date. But I wasn’t, so here I am, sitting in the cab of his truck with so many good times flashing back.
