Del might have blushed at the brazen way she pushed her hips back to feel his hardening erection through her jeans, but Delilah was still drunk on the ride. On memories of him and her new plan. “I can see that. I’m glad you’re glad.”
He huffed out a surprise laugh and she watched his knuckles went a little white on the railing. “If I get any gladder someone might call the cops on us before we get a chance to eat,” he muttered, his rasp harsher. Aroused.
She turned in his embrace and slid her hands up his chest, looking into blue eyes that were darker than she’d ever seen them. “I am hungry, but I’m willing to risk it if you are.”
His brows lowered and he studied her as if she’d surprised him. “Pulling my leg, Delilah?”
She frowned up at him. “Why would you think that?”
He took a step back and shoved his hands in his pockets, an obvious attempt to conceal his reaction to her. “I don’t know. Maybe because you moved away a few days after you slugged me—deservedly—and you haven’t spoken to me since. Maybe because I’ve been memorizing my apology to you for a decade, and I was looking forward to finally getting to say it.”
She leaned back on the railing with a sigh and crossed her arms. “Go ahead then.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” She nodded firmly, too stubborn to be deterred. She’d been planning on seduction, but she could be blunt if that was what it took. “You can apologize for being insensitive to my adolescent crush, then I’ll apologize for throwing myself at you and punching you, and we can put it behind us so we can finish what we almost started.” She hesitated when his mouth opened. “That is, if you want to. Or am I missing something?”
He pulled one hand out of his pocket and held it up, as if asking for patience. “Oh, I want to. You’ll just have to give me a minute here. I’m not used to—I mean, I’m used to putting in a few more man hours to get what I want.”
She bit her lip to stop her snicker. “We can do that. I wouldn’t want you to think I was too easy.”
His look seared her skin. “You aren’t easy, Delilah. You were almost impossible to resist at seventeen. After all this time…” He stepped closer again, lifting his hand to trace the ribbon laced collar of her top. “If you knew how often I thought about that night, how many different ways I imagined it ending and how hard it was not to show up at your door in L.A….I don’t think you’re easy.”
The door behind him opened and they both heard the tinkling of glasses and silverware as the waitress brought them his order.
Asa sighed. “I think I’m going to need that drink. And ice. I need ice.”
He reached for his beer and tilted his head back, taking several long swallows. She couldn’t stop staring at his throat. She wanted to lick it. Taste his skin.
Damn, she’d known she still had Asa issues, but she had no idea that her reaction to him would be quite this strong. One minute she felt like she could give up the reins and submit to him, let him take the lead, and the next she was taking the bull by the horns and…apparently nearly shocking the pants off of him.
She couldn’t change who she was. Who she’d had to be since her mother Valerie Dean had abandoned Delilah and her sisters and broke her husband’s heart by sailing off with her plastic surgeon on his yacht.
A week after she’d gone, Delilah’s father, Dallas Dean, had sold the empty building connected to the repair shop—the building he’d always planned on doing something with as soon as he could afford it—as well as the land beside it. He’d rented Dean’s Garage to the young Asa Wilder and moved them to Los Angeles, using the money from the sale, the last of his savings and all of his connections to start DD4. The decision had changed their financial circumstances dramatically—now they could live in one of the beautiful Marin homes her mother used to covet. They could have a yacht of their own. Or two.
Delilah knew that had never mattered to her father. He’d just wanted to make sure his girls were taken care of. And maybe some small part of him wanted to show his ex that he wasn’t the “loser mechanic” she’d left behind.
That last week before the move, Delilah had misconstrued Asa’s comforting embrace and that had been the cherry on top of what became the worst year of her life. She’d spent most of it crying with Drew or taking care of Darcy. But hardest of all was watching her dad, her hero, fold into himself with the pain of his loss. He was still the best father he could be, and he created a life for them, a business around them…but he’d never been the same.
Delilah had had to be the muscle. She’d done the hiring and firing. She’d gone to night school, handled the difficult clients and the money. She’d taken care of the little things so her sisters could be creative and carefree. And just when it seemed her father was getting his strength back, he’d been hit with another sucker punch.
Delilah reached for the beer Asa had ordered for her, took a gulp and grimaced. She’d rather have something stronger, but this would do.
Sitting down at the small deck table, she sighed. “It wasn’t you, Asa. My dad? He didn’t stop writing because of you. It was my mother.”
He pulled his chair close to hers, flipped it around and straddled it, his expression concerned. “She came back?”
Delilah nodded. “For a weekend. I didn’t know until after the fact. It was all very secretive and romantic. Dad rented a limo, took her to a penthouse suite in Beverly Hills—the works. He wanted her to see how well he was doing, I think. And she’d convinced him that she wanted to wait to see us until she knew they were okay.” She took another drink. “Afterwards, he thought she was going home to pack her bags and let her new husband down easy. That we would be a family again. He even gave her a wad of cash so she could buy us all matching diamond necklaces to win our favor—her idea. A few days later the boob-job-bozo came to our house to let us know that Valerie had done it again—left him for a musician who was fifteen years younger. A guy who lived in his truck between gigs, mind you. Dad was…well, you can imagine how he took it.”
Asa swore under his breath. “I can. Shit, Delilah I’m sorry. I wish I’d known. I wouldn’t have let him shut me out again.”
She shook her head. “He didn’t want anyone to know. Not only did she pull the rug out from beneath him again, but this time it wasn’t even for money. It’s just because of who she is. What she is. He’d wasted all those years hoping to show her he was worthy of her, but in the end he found out what I knew all along—she wasn’t good enough for him.”
And he gave up his life and his friends, his shop, for an illusion.
Asa reached for her hand and slid his fingers through hers. “I’m sorry, Del.”
“Déjà vu,” she laughed darkly. “Are we back where we left off eleven years ago? You comforting me about my selfish mother?”