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As I nod, he continues, “But it turns out thatyou’vestolen all of my focus. You’ve wrenched it from me just like you’ve torn my heart from my chest. You see,” he says, his voice a ragged whisper as he pushes into me, “you hold all of me in both of your hands and I’m centimeters away from falling over the edge.”
My toes curl as I reach for him, dragging him closer as he pumps his hips in a slow, maddening rhythm. My nails rake down his back and my hips pulse up to meet his as he continues, “But I won’t fall over that edge unless you’re falling with me. It’s up to you, Delilah. Are you going to keep resisting this big, messy thing between us, or are you ready to get out of your head and just let go?”
My eyes flutter closed as he stills, and I push my hips toward him, grinding against him as best as I can with the weight of him, ofall of him,pressing down on me. It’s too much. What I feel for him is too consuming. And I guess he can tell that because he’s silent for a beat before he picks up the pace, slamming into me with punishing force until we both topple over the edge of pleasure.
I wait until he’s snoring softly beside me to roll out of bed, gather my belongings from where they’ve fallen on the floor, dress quietly, and then slip out of his room. We’re too different—he’s a literal billionaire with the world at his fingertips, used to getting every single thing he wants on a whim. I finally feel at home in Pine Ridge, happily working in a restaurant that, while it might never make me a famous chef, is at leastmine.
There’s no reality where we would ever actually work out and I’m reasonable enough to know that. So why does it still feel like my heart’s ripping in half in my chest as I walk away?
Chapter7
Finn
Pine Ridge is the bane of my fucking existence.
No, scratch that. Pine Ridge is fine. It’s the people who are going to be the eventual death of me. Between an obstinate mayor, a group of women on the Historical Society who would rather see me eat shit and die than hand an actual, usable property over to me, and the owner of a certain cafe who has been steadfastly ignoring every single one of my attempts to contact her since Christmas, I’m damn near at my wits end with the place.
I’ve sat in the corner booth of Sunny Side for hours waiting for even just a glimpse of Delilah. I’ve darkened her grandmother’s doorstep and much to my chagrin, have gotten nothing other than the thrill of lovely conversation from those visits. I’ve stood in Nia’s boutique and begged her to tell Delilah that I’m not going anywhere, so she needs to get her shit together and just come talk to me.
So far? No dice.
So for what feels like the eightieth time in almost three weeks, I sit across from Monty Hayes, scowling as he tells me no to yet another business proposal. Desperation spears through my gut—it’s not even about business anymore. It hasn’t been for weeks. It’s about showing Delilah that I’m serious about herandPine Ridge.
Though it’s mostly her.
My heart thuds in my chest. I don’t give a shit about the old fire station I keep trying to convince the mayor to let me buy, but I need a reason to stay and I’m running through the list of things that people are going to accept from me without seeming creepy pretty fucking fast.
“I don’t know how many times I have to explain to you that there are provisions for the types of businesses that are—”
My heart upgrades from pounding in my chest to slamming as I block out the mayor.I need the space, the fucking chance to prove to Delilah that I’m in it for the long haul, more than anything.“You’re hemorrhaging an opportunity for the town for what, your pride?” He takes a deep breath, but I shake my head, nostrils flaring as I stare at my phone. “What is it with you people and yourpridehere?”
Hayes leans forward and even I stop listening to the drivel spilling from my lips as he snatches up my phone and scrolls through the listing for the station with intense focus. It doesn’t take me long to realize he’s not listening to me at all, despite all of my pleading. How the hell am I supposed to win the heart of my woman, and this pain-in-the-ass town, if I can’t get anyone to take me fucking seriously?
“Are you listening to me?”
“There’s some warehouse space on the same street as Sunny Side. Draw up a proposal for that instead of the fire station.”
“You already shot down that proposal once!”
“Sorry, the space is spoken for already. Bring me a proposal for the warehouse space, or don’t. It’s up to you entirely.”
I splutter, feeling the heat of my anger spreading from my neck toward my cheeks. The fuckingaudacityof this man to finally give me the same thing I’d already asked for on the day after Christmas… He stoleweeksfrom me that I could have used to convince Delilah that I’m in this for real. I can’t even look at the man, silently gathering my things as I shake my head and move toward the door.
But as I take that first step out of the corridor leading to his office, nodding my head cordially to his cheerful niece who works the front desk, a realization slams into me with the force of a Mac truck. This is the fucking start I needed. And, bonus points, being on the same street as Sunny Side means it’ll take an act of Congress for Delilah to avoid me entirely now.
With a spring in my step, I turn right out of the Municipal Building, a smile stretching over my face at the sight of the Bougie Booties sign swaying in the harsh winter wind. I can’t have a fine dining restaurant on the square, but Nia can have a novelty soap business alluding to asses in the name. I can’t make it make sense, but the bitterness I’d felt over the past six weeks melts away as I swing into the shop.
“Hi, welcome to Bougie Booties where we leave you with aromatic asses and—oh, it’s you.” Nia’s customer service smile falls and she turns her back on me in favor of pouring a mixture into the molds on her work table behind the counter.
I don’t have time for preamble, so I don’t bother with small talk either. “Where’s Delilah?”
Her shoulders tense and I watch the steady rising and fall of them before she turns back toward me. Nia swings her long red hair over her shoulder before pushing her glasses up her nose and crossing her arms over her chest. Some days she’s my biggest supporter. Others, she looks at me like I broke her best friend’s fucking heart.
I wish I understood those days because I’m the one walking around with a ragged hole in my chest. Delilah’s the one who disappeared on Christmas Eve after I asked her if she was ready to get out of her head and just let go. I’m the one who sat on the edge of my bed with my head in my hands and tried to figure out when I’d given her the power to absolutely fucking destroy me.
“Finn…” It’s the pity in her voice that I can’t stand.
Gritting my teeth, I mimic her stance, crossing my arms over my chest as I stare her down across the length of her shop. “Nia, I don’t know what I have to say to convince you, but you have to know that I’m dying over here.”
