Delaney laughed. “No… but it actually brings up several more.” When his eyes sparkled behind his glasses, it was really fucking hard to look away. “Not just a theater nerd but an architecture nerd, huh, Brewer Barnum?”
“No.” I shifted uncomfortably on my chair. “I mean, not architecture in general. I do love Craftsman-style houses, though.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?” Delaney munched a french fry, but the look in his eyes left no doubt that he was focused on my answer. That he genuinely wanted to know.
And to my own surprise, I found myself answering, explaining the various houses I’d worked on with my grandfather growing up and how something about the intentionality of the Craftsman style spoke to me.
When I mentioned that the use of local stone in his fireplace designs was one of Everett Lowell’s hallmarks, Delaney’s eyes widened. He’d written a piece on sustainable building materials, he said, and he jumped in to explain how similar techniques were being revived in modern eco-architecture.
He wasn’t just humoring me; he was genuinely engaged, making me draw connections I’d never considered, which, in turn, made me want to share even more.
Before I knew it, Teeny yawned dramatically, drawing both our attention, and when I glanced at the clock on Delaney’s bookcase, I saw that hours had passed.
“Well,” I said with true regret. I’d probably spoken more words tonight than I had all week, and I still could have talked to Delaney for another few hours and not felt the time. “I guess we should go to bed.”
The wordbedhung in the air, charged with meaning.
“I meant me and Teeny,” I added quickly. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” Delaney echoed.
We cleaned up his office, then walked down the hallway together, stopping at the foot of the stairs, where we’d go our separate ways.
“Thanks,” I blurted. “For the dinner and the conversation. I figured you’d be tapped out after so many visiting Coppertians.”
“Nah. This was the best part of my day.” Delaney flushed, as if realizing he’d said too much. “Because of Teeny, I mean. Conquering my fears and all.” He bent down to give the dog’s head a cautious pat, and Teeny panted happily.
Jealous of my damned dog.
“Well.” I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly feeling awkward. “Good night, then, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Delaney replied. “Good night.”
Neither of us moved.
The air between us crackled with tension. His eyes dropped to my chest for a split second, then back up. I swallowed hard, remembering how his fingers had caressed the very spot he’d just been looking at.
How his lips had felt under mine.
How his body had responded to my touch.
With significant effort, I took a step back. “Come on, Teeny,” I called, my voice embarrassingly hoarse.
As Delaney watched us go, I’d swear there was disappointment in his eyes.
In the attic, I stripped off my jeans and stretched out on my air mattress while Teeny settled onto her bed and immediately began snoring. But tired as I was, I couldn’t sleep.
I’d made the right call, leaving Delaney tonight. I knew I had. I needed to focus on work, to finish the renovation, and then to move on. It was a solid plan.
Unfortunately, my body disagreed vehemently, still thrumming withwantfrom that charged moment in the hallway—hell, from every fucking moment we’d spent together in the past few months.
Acting on that want the other night had only made the wanting worse… which was why I would not be doing that again.
I flopped to my back, propping one hand behind my head, and stared at the shadowy beams in the ceiling. From the other side of the wall, I heard water running through the pipes as Delaney got ready for bed, and then silence.
I closed my eyes, willing sleep to come, but just as I started to drift off, a faint noise jerked me back to wakefulness.
A moan. Soft but unmistakable.
