“If you choose option one or three, all I can offer is my undying love and a shoulder to cry on. If you choose option two, I can offer you a good pair of hands, a strong back, a creative mind, and financial support as an investor looking for a quick return on the renovation and sale of a viable business opportunity in an upscale tourist community.”
Phoebe crouched, disappearing a moment. In the silence the beat of Delaney’s heart filled her ears while her brain throbbed to the same rhythm. Her mind was swamped. Absolutely overwhelmed. Utterly short-circuited.
She closed her eyes and rubbed them again, resting her head in her hands. “All I want is for this place to go away. I just want to get on with my life. Find another job. Go back to work.”
“Unfortunately, you can’t run from your past forever.” Phoebe reappeared with a roll of blueprints and a combined look of pity and compassion. “I thought these might help you make your decision.” She slid the blueprints across the bar, returned to Delaney, and hugged her. Then held her at arm’s length. “You used to love this place when you were a little girl. And I know you can still see the diamond despite the rough, or you wouldn’t have done as well for yourself as you have.”
She released her and stepped back. “I’ll see you at home. The guest room is all ready for you. I’ll leave the front door open.”
Delaney didn’t move for a long time. Long after Phoebe’s footsteps had left the bar. Long after her car had rolled down the gravel drive.
She pulled out her phone and checked the time. It was way too late to be calling the East Coast, but maybe Avery would actually answer if Delaney called now. Dialing her number, Delaney closed her eyes and listened to the phone ring.
“Come on, Avery,” she murmured, needing to hear her sister’s voice. “Pick up.”
But just like always, Avery’s answering machine clicked on, and an
irrational wave of sadness pushed through Delaney’s chest.
When the machine beeped, Delaney said, “Hey, Avery. You’ll never guess where I am.” She gave Avery a very high-level overview, polishing up reality enough not to scare her sister into continuing to avoid her calls. Then ended the conversation with, “I know this is probably a bad time, but I’ve been keeping the business license on this place current in case you or Chloe ever decided you wanted to take it over and make something out of it. Let me know if you’re interested. Otherwise, I guess I’ll have to make the decision on what to do with this place on my own.”
She paused, cleared the emotion from her voice, and managed an, “I love you” before she disconnected.
And finally, with murky resentment swimming in her veins, and heartache filling her chest, she unrolled the blueprints.
THREE
She wasn’t going to show. Ethan had to accept it.
He tipped back the last of the Jack and Coke he’d been nursing for an hour and glanced up at the baseball game filling the flat screen over the bar.
He’d known he’d blown it the second he’d jerked out of their kiss. What a fool. She’d probably spent the last hour finding out who he was and what he now did for a living, and was already back at Phoebe’s or a hotel, stabbing hot pins in a voodoo doll of his likeness.
He’d been handed Delaney Hart, the goddess of his every fantasy as a youth and still one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met, on a goddamned silver platter, and he’d blown it—the definition of loser if he’d ever heard one.
“What’s the score?” The female voice made the skin along Ethan’s neck tingle.
Delaney.
He snapped his head toward her as she leaned lazily into the bar, her gaze on the screen.
Ethan’s heart tripped all over itself. His throat narrowed around a lump of excitement, of disbelief. Her scent drifted to him, bringing with it the memory of the way her lips felt against his. The erotic way she stroked her tongue into his mouth. The fit of their bodies together.
And he went instantly hard.
Her gaze lowered and met his. Her eyes were blue. Not sky blue, not gray blue, but stormy blue. The color fit her perfectly. Her brows lifted, and a little smile tipped her mouth. “Score?”
Hell yes, he wanted to score. He wanted to hammer out a home run. Nail a grand slam.
Ethan cleared his throat. “Nine to six. Giants are—”
“Winning,” she said with a small smile. “The Pirates suck this year.”
And she liked baseball? Could she get any more perfect?
Gus, the bartender, passed on his way to the opposite end of the bar and paused. “Hey, Delaney. Get you a drink?”
“Hey, Gus. Tonic and lime, please.”