"Oh my God," Delaney says, her voice exasperated. "I just wanted to say one thing –"
"Lady, if you and your boyfriend are done here, your friend there is about to get your car towed." The security guard calls over his shoulder
Now the whole situation is starting to become just ridiculous. Delaney is so clearly infuriated that I can't help but laugh.
Delaney holds up her hand without looking at the security guard. "No," she says. "I am not done here. We are not done here."
"Delaney, let's go." I put my hands on her arms and attempt to steer her toward her waiting car.
"I read your email to my father," she blurts out.
"You read my email?"
"He gave it to me," she says. "And he's not going to kill you. Or me. I mean, he might kill you, but only if you break my heart."
She's rambling the way she does when she gets nervous, and I'm barely following what she's saying, but it's the most adorable thing I've ever seen.
And then she stops, inhaling deeply before she lets out the words in one giant exhale. The words. "And I think I'm in love with you. I am in love with you. I love you."
I don't even wait until she's finished speaking before I bring my mouth down on hers, muting those words. It's like something out of a damn movie, me kissing her in the rain, her hands on my shirt, pulling me toward her, and we're in our own private world.
At least, we're in our own world for ten fucking seconds before the security guard taps me on the shoulder. "What does this look like, a hotel?" he asks. "Get your asses off the sidewalk and get in the car before I have it towed."
Delaney looks back and forth at him and me, her eyes wide, before she bursts out laughing. "Come on," she says. "Let's get the hell out of here."
CHAPTER THIRTY
DELANEY
"Obviously, you're required to parade him around shirtless." Daniel turns to me as he sips his margarita. "It's only fair, since I was the one to drive you to the airport for your dramatic reunion scene."
"Why are you talking about me like I'm not here? If you want, I'd be glad to take it off right now." Gaige reaches for the hem of his shirt and fakes pulling it up, flashing a bit of his abs.
"Don't tempt me," Daniel says. "I have to be good."
"Since when are you good?" I sip my margarita and glance over at Gaige, who smiles back at me, then squeezes my leg under the table. "You're never good."
"Since I have a boyfriend," Daniel says, looking smug as he crosses his arms over his chest.
"What?" I squeal. "Who is this guy? When did you start seeing him? And why didn't you tell me?"
"You're not the only one who can keep a secret, doll," he says. He breaks out his phone and shows us pictures, and I ooh and ahh appropriately as I listen to the details about his new love, while Gaige slides his arm around my shoulder.
It feels comfortable, being here with Gaige. It's only been a week since everything happened, but it feels like Gaige and I have been together forever.
When Daniel stops mid-conversation because the new boyfriend calls him, Gaige leans over and whispers in my ear. "You're not wearing panties, are you?"
I slap him on the arm. "It's happy hour," I say. "I came from the office. Of course I'm wearing panties."
"Go take them off in the bathroom," he says.
"No," I whisper, glancing at Daniel across the table. "Stop. You're being bad."
His warm breath on my ear raises goosebumps on my neck. "I'm about to be very bad," he says softly. "Now, get up, go to the bathroom and take off your panties, and bring them to me. And I'll make you come on the way home."
His words send heat flowing through my body, just like every other time. "Fine," I say, sliding off my barstool. Gaige runs his hands along my hips and over my ass, giving it a playful slap. "We're in public, stop."
He leans in close, his voice gravelly. "We need to get out of public soon," he says.
"Are you leaving?" Daniel looks up from his cell phone.
"Restroom," I say. "I'll be back in a minute."
When I return, I slip my panties into Gaige's pocket and kiss him on the cheek. He pulls me against him and I can feel his erection through his jeans, begging for my attention. "We just paid the check," he says.
"Oh my God, you guys are like a couple of teenagers with the kissy face and shit," Daniel says.
"I've been around you and too many of your dates to even listen to you complain," I tell him as we walk out of the restaurant. "And you're much less tasteful than we are."
"It's true," Daniel says. "Happy hour next week and I'll bring the new boyfriend?"