Loved Either Way, page 10
Not wanting Delaney to come out of her place to search for the waiting car, he stepped out of the vehicle with the pot of mums and headed for the entrance door. His shoes crunched across the snow-crusted walkway until he came to a stop just beyond the double glass doors showcasing the lit entry and a back wall of mailboxes for the apartment. The call board outside the doors, labeled with every apartment number, took his attention for a minute.
Long enough to miss Delaney exiting from the second floor. Her descent caught the edge of his vision, and he greeted her with a smile on the other side of the doors. The blonde girl, leaning out of the second-floor metal door, said something that caused Delaney to pause and look over her shoulder.
Then, she pushed the door open. Stepping out into the cold air with him, she immediately shoved her hands into the pockets of her long, buttoned up tweed coat with a belt cinched at the middle.
“Hey,” she said, her breath full of air like she’d been in a rush. “Wow, it’s cold.”
“Hey, yourself,” Lucas returned. He held out the mums. Their color matched the pom-topped hat, scarf, and finger mittens Delaney wore. All luck. “We won’t be out in this weather for long. These are for you.”
She took the flowers, saying, “Thank you.”
The blonde inside had yet to leave the upper stairwell while still holding open the hallway door.
“Is that your friend?”
“Bexley. My roommate, and cousin,” Delaney said, peeking behind herself once more. She waved at the young woman, but she still didn’t move. In fact, Bexley openly stared between Delaney and Lucas, making sure both of them knew she was doing it. “She’s too nosy for her own good.”
Yeah, he had one of those in his life, too. He gave Miss Bexley a bit of grace for her narrowing stare lingering on him when he tried to ignore it.
“You don’t have a cat, right?” Lucas asked.
Delaney swung back on him with a wide smile. “What?”
“The mums—I guess they’re bad for cats.”
“Ah, okay,” she replied, surveying the tops of the flowers before lifting them for a sniff that curved her lips happily again. “No worries. No cats.”
Without warning, Delaney stepped forward with an arm wide that she wrapped around his middle. Maybe it was the fact he had a good ninety or more pounds of muscle on the woman, but he didn’t expect the force of her squeeze or how warm and soft she’d feel tucked against his chest. It took real effort to keep his next breaths steady as whatever candied-crisp perfume she wore wafted up with her next hug.
She kept the mums safe at the side and beamed up at him.
“You won’t be offended if I leave these with Bex, right?” she asked.
God, no.
He was going to be more irritated by the fact that she had to let him go to do it.
“The flowers are yours. Do whatever you want.”
She tossed him a wink as she pulled away and turned back for the door. Lucas tried to give the two women a bit of privacy by facing the parking lot when Bexley came down the stairs inside at her cousin’s gesturing.
He still heard the quiet, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Dalton.”
He grinned over his shoulder and waved. “You, too … Bexley, is it?”
The blonde nodded. “That’s me. And you’re Lucas, right?”
A chuckle escaped him at her pointed question to get his name right, and confirm her cousin had not lied. “That is me, yes.”
“Get inside—your food is getting cold,” Delaney pointed out.
“I can order something else,” her cousin argued. “We’ve made introductions now, so we might as well talk a bit.”
“Nope.” Delaney shoved Bexley, now holding the maroon mums, back inside the doors. “Goodnight.”
The door finally shut.
Not that Bexley moved.
In fact, she smiled and waved at the two while Delaney rejoined Lucas on the walkway and hooked her elbow around his. As they headed for the idling car twenty paces away.
“That’s yours?” Delaney asked.
“For the rest of the week.” She shot him a curious glance, and he clarified, “A rental. I live in Saint John but travel back and forth to here for work at least every couple of weeks. I can’t stand driving more than an hour if I’m behind the wheel, so I don’t bring my vehicle very often.”
“Oh, okay.”
He didn’t typically get rentals in Freddy, either. The half of a dozen cab companies and car services on his contact list made travel simple, and an easy write-off at the end of the year for his accountant. He’d made an exception with the two-door Lexus he rented to take Delaney out.
Not that he planned to tell her, of course.
It was just a car.
This was only the first date.
Lucas was still trying to feel this girl out beyond the four walls of the salon where he met her, but he wanted to. That was a damn good start.
He chanced a glance over his shoulder.
Delaney didn’t miss it. “She’s not moved, has she?”
“Not one inch,” he confirmed.
She only laughed.
“It’s good to have someone looking out for you,” Lucas added as they rounded the car to the passenger side.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Sometimes, eh?”
Delaney shrugged, muttering, “Sometimes.”
He opened the door for her, and waited until she was comfortably inside before closing the door. On his way back around the front of the vehicle, he waved to the woman standing beyond the entrance doors.
Bexley waved back.
Once inside the Lexus, his new passenger handed over the cell phone that had been in her seat, and then asked, “Any reason you asked for my shoe size this morning?”
Lucas shot Delaney a smirk while he put the car in reverse. “That, sweets, is a surprise.”
One he had planned for later.
“Sweets?”
She didn’t sound offended.
He took that as a win.
Lucas tried to keep his gaze on the rearview mirror while he backed out of the spot, but he couldn’t stop it from cutting to her once or twice. The bit of pink color heating Delaney’s cheeks and the way she watched him below the long sweep of her dark lashes stopped the sudden should I or shouldn’t I game he found himself playing in his head.
Why not?
He wanted her to know he was interested.
In everything.
Anything.
“If you taste anything like you smell, it’s appropriate,” he offered.
Delaney guffawed in the seat next to his, but her grin melted into something sexy all the same. He reveled in the fact she didn’t shrink away at the suggestive comment. “You’re going to have to work for that.”
So be it.
All he knew was work.
Chapter 11
Manger—the name a nod to the French chef heading the kitchen—happened to be one of maybe three restaurants in the city that required a dress code of its patrons. Nothing crazy. Blazers and ties for men, and appropriate dress for their counterparts. It meant the usual diners tended to be professionals or someone looking for a step above the norm for their dining experience. Quiet people enjoying a good meal while discussing business or life.
The menu varied from extravagant dishes the chef learned while training in France to the steak and potato dishes that Lucas preferred when he dined. The curated list of desserts changed depending on the time of the year, but the infamous cherry cheesecake Manger was known for remained at the top regardless of the season.
Cozy tables surrounded by tan suede chairs with clam shaped backs faced windows overlooking a central part of town; or depending on the room, diners sat in front of digital fireplaces with water features dropping down from the ceiling that created partition walls for privacy. Dark colored stonework made hearths around the fireplaces and added to the calming ambiance of the place.
Lucas tried to get a table for lunch or dinner whenever he ended up in the city, but it always depended on his schedule. Especially when dining at Manger meant waiting a good while to actually eat, but that would give Lucas and his companion a chance to talk without food between them.
When he did get the opportunity to drop by the place, he typically ate alone, and had only met up with someone in passing that he recognized who was also dining at the same time. Perhaps that was why the host who greeted Lucas and Delaney at the front of the restaurant, one of three whom he recognized that rotated shifts, smiled a little wider at the sight of him stepping beyond the entry doors with someone at his side.
A woman, no less.
“Mr. Dalton,” Curtis welcomed with hands stretching over the stone podium he would stand behind until directing them further beyond the entrance alcove. “And his guest—hello. I hope you’re both having a warm night. It’s cold out there.”
“So far, not bad,” he told the host. Lucas encouraged Delaney to head in front of him to shake the man’s hand first with a press of his palm at her lower back, and she moved forward without hesitance. “Miss Reed, Curtis.”
The host passed Lucas a knowing look and a smile as he shook Delaney’s hand, still warm in mittens, with both of his. “Welcome to Manger, Miss Reed. Is tonight your first time at the restaurant?”
“It is,” Delaney replied.
Yet, the woman stood there and gazed around as if the place had been made for her. Good. He didn’t want her to feel out of place, but he also wanted her to enjoy the atmosphere and food. Manger was meant to be an experience.
One never got that first time back.
Curtis released his hold on Delaney’s hand only to wag a finger in Lucas’ direction, saying, “Now I know why you asked for the far side table, hmm?”
Delaney passed Lucas a curious look as he slipped in beside her and curled an arm around her waist. “A view and a fire,” he explained.
Not well, he knew.
Her puckered brow said so.
“You’ll see,” Lucas added with a gentle squeeze to her waist.
Delaney shook her head with a smile, and gazed into the main dining room where there were fewer private seating spots and more patrons. They also had better access to watch the movement in the kitchen, and slightly more noise. Usually, he opted for the main seating because he could lose himself in the scrape of utensils against plates, the soft hum of conversation around him, and the laughter traveling out from the kitchen.
Lucas didn’t care to get distracted by others tonight.
Only one person.
Delaney smiled up at him when Lucas pointed out the painting of the Saint John River in aerial view hanging over the mantle in the alcove in a rainbow of hues. In the bottom left corner, Sloane Alcott’s familiar signature blackened the bright colors.
“A friend’s brother made that,” he told her.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I have a few of my own around the apartment.” A collection of a half of a dozen acrylic paintings that Lucas held particularly close. He wasn’t one for art, but there was something to be said for personally knowing an artist. “He said once there was something about the Maritimes … they’re stuck in his head in all those colors.”
“I bet,” she said, taking in the six-foot long piece of art again. “It’s a hell of a way to see it, huh?”
“Nothing but the river is the color it should be, and yet—”
“If you know what it is, you can see it,” Delaney interjected.
Lucas nodded. “Exactly.”
The paintings he owned were focused more on the areas that were most familiar and sentimental to Lucas. He had the sudden urge to commission one of the river, now. Perhaps not one as big, though.
Another time …
“Your table is ready whenever you both would like to head back,” Curtis said after having clicked through the tablet on his podium. “Would you like to check in your coats and everything else?”
“Oh, yes, please,” Delaney said before Lucas could get a word in edgewise.
He was close enough to help her with removing her jacket. The short sweater dress she wore underneath wasn’t body conforming, but it clung to the swell of her hips and backside as she turned to pull her arms from the coat. The coat itself had been too long for him to appreciate just how high her boots went.
Right up to mid-thigh. Only a sliver of smooth, creamy skin peeked out between the top of her boots and the hem of her dress.
Complimenting Delaney seemed inappropriate given their current circumstances. Damn the weather for not giving him the chance to admire her earlier. Besides, they weren’t alone, although they would be soon, and she was more interested in tugging off her mittens, hat, and scarf for Curtis to take than Lucas’ staring.
Lucky for him.
His mouth had gone dry, anyway.
“And your coat, Mr. Dalton?” Curtis asked, the bundle of Delaney’s items waiting where it hung over his arm.
The question brought Lucas back to reality, and the beautiful woman waiting for him with an equally gorgeous smile as she kept a tight grip on the short handle of her black leather purse. He did not think shedding his jacket had the same effect on the room, but who was he to say?
Delaney tucked close to his side once more the very second she could.
All the way to the far table.
*
They had barely sat down at one of the handful of fully private dining tables before Delaney excused herself to the restroom with a complaint about hats and her hair. It didn’t matter how vehemently Lucas tried to assure her she looked perfect, and the hat hadn’t done anything terrible to her waves of black locks, she wanted the proof for herself.
Left alone behind the wall of water falling between panes of fiberglass from the ceiling, he sat at the table situated between the window overlooking a snow-covered town and the fireplace crackling on the screen at his back.
“Are you thinking about the typical?” Curtis asked as he returned to the table with a water pitcher in one hand and a silver serving tray with glasses in another.
“I’ll wait for her, and go from there,” Lucas replied.
“Sounds perfect. Can I start you out with drinks—wine, or your usual ale?”
Lucas wouldn’t be drinking much when he had to drive, but a glass of liquor that absorbed over the couple of hours it would take them to wait and eat couldn’t hurt. “A bottle of sweet red and my usual, sure,” he agreed.
Curtis agreed with a nod, and turned to leave. “I’ll be back with menus when I see you’re ready.”
“Thank you. Oh, breadsticks, too.”
A chuckle answered that. “Of course. Breadsticks, as well. I’ll bring those right along.”
Every table needed a basket.
It only seemed right.
The beep of his phone—a second, loud beep since parking the car—reminded Lucas that he needed to put the device on flight mode for the rest of the evening. Not that he wouldn’t check it for emergencies, work-wise or Jacob-related, later, but he wouldn’t be keeping a running commentary on the night with his brother.
At least, that’s who he assumed had been texting him.
Lucas figured out that wasn’t the case when he retrieved the phone from his inner blazer pocket. In fact, the separate texts hadn’t even come from the same person.
His father had messaged first to ask for a meeting at the brewery when Lucas returned to Saint John the following week while the newest, a text from his mother, asked for lunch. Neither of the two had been in contact with him in recent weeks.
Not that he minded.
He didn’t.
Lucas wished they hadn’t messaged tonight, either. The last thing he wanted to worry, or even think about, was his fucking parents. They took up more room in his head rent-free than he cared to admit.
Instead of answering back, on both fronts, Lucas simply turned the phone on flight mode like he originally intended to do and slipped the phone back into his pocket without a second thought. Penelope had become accustomed to waiting for a response from her oldest son when she did reach out while his father, on the other hand …
Well, fuck Ronald, too.
Lucas had to stop jumping through hoops to please an unpleasable man.
No excuses.
Despite putting the phone away, and his mind on pouring a glass of water to sip away the new taste of bitterness lingering on the back of his tongue, Lucas wasn’t able to stuff the shitty turn of his mood when Delaney returned back to the table. Maybe his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
Lucas tried to laugh it off as he stood to help Delaney back into her chair before pushing it into the table a bit. She placed her purse next to the chair leg when he said, “Nothing—just a reminder that I forgot to turn my phone off tonight.”
Her nose scrunched in the cutest way as she peered across the table at him as he retook his own seat. “Work?”
“In a way.”
Did his parents—and all the baggage that came with his family’s current estrangement—have to be on the table for discussion tonight?
He sure hoped not.
“I never asked you what you did for work,” she noted.
The change in topic became an olive branch that Lucas grasped onto to save him for the moment. “It’s a family business—you’d probably put it together if I gave you a couple of hints.”
Her dark brows lifted high. “Oh?”
“We distill and distribute some of the most-consumed beer in this country, actually. The family’s signature blend and a couple of licensed brews.”
“Dalton.”
Lucas grinned at the understanding he heard dawning her voice. “The Daltons, yes.”
“Oh, wow,” Delaney said, a knot forming between her brow as she gazed between him and the table in front of them while she processed the news. “The company has a major hub here, right?”
He nodded. “A call center for the supply and employee chain. It’s why I keep going back and forth every handful of weeks. Things have changed and grown over the last decade. We’re still trying to catch up, I think.”
