Delaney dropped into a crouch, managing to smile at the girl through all the pulls and aches in her muscles. “Hey there. How old are you?”
“Five. Mommy says you build things.”
“I do.”
“Mommy said that you might build me a princess bed if you have time.”
Delaney cast a look up at Shiloh and found her brows tipped in a look of guilt. “Hunter, I told you to wait.”
Harlan chuckled. “Should have known better than to expect this little go-getter to wait for anything.”
Shiloh sighed.
“Hi, Mr. McClellan.” Hunter turned her bright eyes on Harlan. “Can I come out to the farm again sometime?”
“Hunter—” Shiloh started.
“Don’t bother.” Harlan waved off Shiloh’s reprimand easily. “Hunter’s welcome at the farm anytime. I’ll let you ladies chat.”
As Harlan wandered toward the corner housing the boisterous Geri-Hat-Tricks members, Shiloh took one of Delaney’s arms, Heidi took the other, and they wandered toward the back room with her. Delaney’s gut tightened with each step, but she figured she might as well get it over with. The angst of seeing Ethan after the way they’d left things the day before was killing her.
They entered the room with Hunter bouncing in front of her talking about her princess bed, Shiloh murmuring about a master bedroom renovation she was dying to get Delaney’s take on, and Heidi’s news about the increase in business since the scrub-a-thon.
“Look who I found,” Heidi called out, causing two more women to pop up from a long table in the back of the room and rush forward to hug her.
“Oh my God,” Delaney said, hugging them each in turn. “Stella and Susan? Wow, you two look amazing.”
Sisters, just a year apart, the women had been part of Delaney’s devilish high school clique.
“Stella is a buyer for Nordstrom,” Heidi said. “And Susan is head of sales at Silverado Vineyards.”
Delaney laughed and curved her fingers around Hunter’s as she tugged on Delaney’s skirt for attention. “Oh, man. I guess we proved everyone wrong, didn’t we? None of us turned out as bad as everyone thought we would.”
That brought the entire table into a round of roaring laughter. And as Delaney relented and pulled Hunter into her arms, she experienced the kind of cohesiveness within a community that she’d always strived to create in her restaurants when she designed for Pacific Coast’s Finest, but one she’d never known herself. One a part of her had never even believed possible. And most certainly not possible in Wildwood.
Ethan watched Delaney carry his angelic little goddaughter to a table where a boisterous group of women greeted Delaney like a celebrity. She wore a sheathlike dress that was both simple and sexy. The way it draped over her curves made a familiar ache stir low in Ethan’s gut.
“Triple black Indian pale . . .” Todd’s voice brought Ethan’s attention back just as his friend lifted his glass and gazed at the dark, clear liquid. “Man, you went all out. This has to take a shitload of work to get right.”
“I didn’t want to bring a triple.” Ethan’s attention returned to Delaney, his fingers tingling to comb through her soft waves. “But Drew insisted.”
“It was worth it,” Caleb said.
Caleb and Todd continued talking, but Ethan was lost in Delaney’s smile, her laughter, her easy, animated conversation. She looked so happy. So comfortable. So at home.
“Would you stop staring at her?” Caleb’s hushed rasp prickled down Ethan’s spine and drew his gaze. Todd had peeled off and was now talking with other friends in another group. “You’re infatuation isn’t going to stay much of a secret if you drool every time she walks in the room.”
“I’m drooling?” Ethan ran the back of his hand over his mouth with a smart-ass grin. “Thanks for telling me, bro.”
When he returned his gaze to Delaney, Caleb tried pulling it back with, “This is amazing beer.”
“Pops’s new crop.” Ethan answered without looking at Caleb. He was proud of the new brew, but now his mind was barely half-interested. “Named it Magic. It’s got a real punch. This triple measured eighteen percent alcohol.”
“No way.”
Ethan lifted his brow and nodded. “Way.”
“Holy shit.”