But it was no use. It was as if she had no control over herself. Instead, she gave in to her instincts and reached down to swat Lane on one perfect butt cheek, sending him stumbling forward. “Hurry and go get dressed. Your dinner’s getting cold.”
Glancing over his shoulder with a wide-eyed look that clearly said Who are you? he hightailed it out of his own kitchen, leaving her alone so she could down the rest of her wine before she refilled the glass.
She needed all the liquid courage she could get.
THE WOMAN HADN’T even let him ask her exactly why she’d broken into his kitchen to make him dinner. Nope, she’d swatted his butt—yes, she’d spanked his ass like she owned the damn thing—before she sent him on his merry way. Talk about unusual.
Lane felt like an idiot charging into his kitchen in only his underwear, weapon in hand, drawn to protect. When he’d realized it was Delilah, it was like every cog in his brain had slowed down taking in the fact that she was standing in front of his stove like she belonged there. And for one crazy moment, he really believed she did belong there with him, in his house, cooking in his kitchen, smiling at him with that knowing look in her eyes. Wearing the prettiest pale pink sundress that clung downright lovingly to her slender curves, her long dark hair pulled into a bun resting on top of her head, a few wavy tendrils escaping, curling against her nape.
He’d been half tempted—even though he’d firmly believed he was sleepwalking or some such shit—to walk up to greet her with a few well-placed kisses along her neck.
It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that yes, indeed, she was in his kitchen and she was making a mess of it while she made him dinner. What had he done to earn this sort of good treatment?
Lane was eager to find out.
Slipping on a T-shirt and pulling on an old pair of basketball shorts, he went back into the kitchen to see that the majority of the mess had been cleaned up. Dirty pans had been piled in the sink ready to be put into the dishwasher. The table was set, two tall candles were lit, and there was wine poured in two glasses. A giant bowl of salad sat on the table, along with a baking dish filled with steaming-hot red potatoes and a platter piled high with fried chicken.
His mouth literally watered as he took it all in. He really hadn’t eaten anything after Wren had left the house earlier that morning. Hadn’t even finished off that soggy bowl of cereal he’d made himself. So he was damn near starving and tempted to gnaw on the dining room table leg if he had to.
“Sit down,” Delilah said as she came up beside him, her hands fluttering but not quite touching him, like she was afraid to or something. “Dinner’s ready. I hope you like white wine.”
He wasn’t big on wine, but he really didn’t care what he was drinking at the moment. “It looks amazing,” he said as he went to the chair he knew Delilah was going to occupy and pulled it out for her. “After you.”
She smiled at him, her gaze full of apprehension as she settled into the chair. “Thank you.”
Pushing it in, he went to his spot at the table and sat, reaching for the wooden fork and spoon that were in the giant salad bowl. “You made all this yourself?”
Delilah nodded, beaming with pride. “I used my grandma’s fried chicken recipe. It’s been so long since I made it, I hope I didn’t mess it up.”
“Your grandma’s fried chicken?” He whistled low. That stuff was famous around town. Like legendary to some folks. “It sure looks good.” His stomach growled, reminding him he should shut the hell up and fill it.
“Here.” Delilah took his plate and added two pieces of chicken along with a spoonful of potatoes. “Start with the good stuff.”
He’d fully planned on eating his salad first but if she insisted . . .
As he sunk his teeth into the crunchy fried chicken, his eyes nearly crossed in bliss. “Aw, man,” he mumbled around a mouthful of chicken. “This is fucking delicious.”
The pretty smile on her face told him she was pleased, and he paused before he took another bite, studying her. Her cheeks were flushed pink and little tendrils of dark hair curled around her face. The delicate straps of her sundress looked like they could snap with just one tug, and he was tempted, sorely tempted, to lean over and slide his fingers across her bare shoulder, testing the softness of her skin. He’d slip his fingers beneath her chin and tilt her face up. Give her a light kiss of appreciation and tell her how much he needed her thoughtfulness right now.
But he did none of that. He continued eating, praising her cooking, pleased to see she ate just as voraciously as he did because he rarely saw Delilah eat much of anything. She was always on the go, always working, always dancing, never sitting still. She had the body to prove it too. Long and lean with those endless legs and the perfect ass . . .
Lane scowled at his half-full plate. His brain always deviated to sex when Delilah was around.
“There’s no need for us to beat around the bush,” Delilah said, disturbing his thoughts.
He glanced up to find
her watching him as she wiped at the corner of her mouth with a pristine white cloth napkin. Where the hell had she found that anyway? “Beat around what bush?” he asked.
She set the napkin in her lap, her expression serious. “Wren told me what’s going on with your mom.”
“Oh.” His voice sounded hollow, and his gut felt that way too. From the moment Wren had confessed her concerns, he’d become consumed with worry for his mom. Should’ve gone over to the house and checked in on her earlier this afternoon like he’d promised Wren, but he couldn’t. Instead, he’d pulled a classic Gallagher-man move—he’d avoided her. Like a little boy, he was too . . . scared to see her. Afraid of what he might find.
What if his mom looked terrible? What would he do? Why was it his sole responsibility to take care of her anyway? Where was Dad? Why hadn’t he noticed? The old man went about his business and acted like nothing else mattered, including his wife.
It drove Lane—and the rest of his siblings—up the freaking wall.
“I just figured you were tired and worried and so I thought I’d make you dinner and take your mind off your troubles for a while.”