Chasing Stanley (15 page)

“If he makes you happy, that's all that matters.” Her father cracked open his menu. “Now let's order. I'm starving.”

Later that night,
Delilah learned the hard way that lies can have consequences: she arrived home from Ming Dynasty to find a message waiting for her.

“This is your mother, inviting you and your hockey player for brunch this Sunday at eleven a.m. I already switched my schedule around, so I won't take no for answer. Remember: a little lipstick can go a long way.”

Delilah erased the message and sank down on the couch with her head in hands.

Now what?

 

 

“This coffee's great.”

Jason smiled appreciatively at Delilah's compliment. If she knew what he'd gone through to make a decent cup of coffee, she'd think he was crazy. He'd spent a large part of the afternoon experimenting with varying amounts of water and coffee, trying to get it just right. But caffeine perfection eluded him; either it turned out like coffee scented water or sludge. He called his mother, but she was no help; she'd been using the same electric percolator since before he was born. Finally, in desperation, he called the local coffee bistro around the corner and explained his plight. The haughty barista on the other end of the line took pity on him and explained exactly how much coffee to use per cup of water. The result? Coffee worth complimenting, at least in Delilah's opinion.

She'd been awkward with him at first, as he thought she might be. Awkward and preoccupied. But gradually, she seemed to relax. Stanley helped; just having him there for her to fuss over seemed to calm her. Jason imagined taking Delilah out to dinner, Stanley in tow. There had to be dog-friendly restaurants in New York, right? God knows the city catered to everything else.

Delilah had been telling him about growing up on Long Island, and about her dinner with her father and Brandi. Jason didn't have the heart to tell her he knew who her dad was: whenever the tacky Mattress Maven commercials came on in the weight room, the guys would laugh their heads off, making fun of her father's bad toupee.

“I don't know anything about Long Island, apart from it being the Islanders' home base,” Jason confessed.

“That's more than I know about—Flasher?”

Jason nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. He had only mentioned his hometown to her once, and that had been weeks ago. That she retained the info spoke volumes.

“What's it like?” she continued.

“It's small. Farms, mostly. One supermarket, one bar, one movie theater, one hockey rink.”

“Your parents are farmers?”

“Yup.”

“What kind?”

“Dairy.”

“Wow.” Delilah seemed enchanted. “I've always wanted to visit a farm.”

Jason was mystified; why would anyone get misty-eyed over a farm? Then it dawned on him: animals. Thank God his parents weren't in the business of raising cattle for slaughter. Delilah would probably never speak to him again.

“Do you ever miss it?”

“Sometimes I miss my folks,” Jason confessed. “And occasionally, I miss the quiet. But in general? No.” He cocked his head questioningly. “Do you ever miss living on Long Island?”

Delilah burst out laughing. “God, no! Though my mom does have a huge backyard that the dogs love, especially Shiloh. Not that she allows her grandchildren to visit very often.”

Jason chuckled. “You talk about them like they're your kids.”

“They are my kids.”

Jason sipped his coffee. “Ever thought about getting married and having real kids?”

The room became very still. Jason assumed he had blundered. But much to his surprise, Delilah answered.

“I have thought about it. But not very seriously. Not yet. I mean I just haven't met the right person. I guess.” She looked down.

Kiss her now, Jason thought. Stealthy yet subtle, he put down his mug and slid to her end of the couch, putting his arm around her. He was just gearing up to kiss her when Delilah burst out with, “Jason I need to ask you a big favor and if you don't want to do it it's okay but I really need your help!”

Jason slowly withdrew his arm. “What's up?”

“It's my mother. She's been on my case forever about not having a boyfriend, and I finally couldn't take it anymore. I lied and told her I had one. Now she wants ‘us' to come for brunch on Sunday.”

“Well, can't you tell her you're busy? Or that your boyfriend is in a coma or something?”

“You don't know my mother. She'd bring takeout to the ICU if it meant meeting someone I was dating. She won't take no for an answer.”

“So, where do I come in?” Jason wanted to know. He was teasing, though judging by the pained look on Delilah's face, it didn't register.

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Jason slipped an arm around her shoulder. “Why does it have to be pretend?”

“I guess you're right. I mean—”

“Delilah?”

“Mmm?”

“Let's make a deal. I'll pretend to be your boyfriend if you'll pretend to kiss me right here, right now. How does that sound?”

“Good.” Delilah nodded vigorously. “Really really good. I mean—”

Jason crushed his lips to hers as much to quiet her as to quench his desire. Her kisses were sweet—like sugar, like honey. Tempting and innocent at the same time, making them all the more delectable. When Delilah's lips parted slightly, Jason took it as a signal for deeper intimacy; he gently parted her teeth with his lips, kissing her full on the mouth as he drew her tighter to him. Delilah didn't resist; in fact, a little “Mmmmm” of pleasure rose from the back of her throat. Jason kissed her more passionately, delighted when Delilah returned his ardor. Kissing her was like entering a magic world: breathtaking, shimmering, completely enchanting.

And then the pounding began.

“Open up, you pussy!” Eric's voice was strident on the other side of the front door. “You think you're funny, taping those press clippings to my door? Let me tell you, bro, that's pathetic!”

Jason wanted to kill him, especially when Stanley, who wasn't renowned for his abilities as a watchdog, began barking his head off.

“Maybe if we pretend we're not here, he'll go away,” Jason whispered.

“But what about Stanley?”

Stanley's deep-chested woof grew more ferocious the longer Eric kept hammering on the door. Caught between a rock and a Newfie, Jason had no choice.

He flashed Delilah a look of disbelief before storming to the door. “Settle down, Stan!” Jason slid back the locks and opened the door. The minute the two brothers made eye contact, Eric threw his mouth back into overdrive.

“Big deal, so John Dellapina thinks you're hot shit! Let me tell you something—” He stopped short when he caught sight of Delilah. “Uh . . .”

“You were saying?” said Jason.

Eric looked mortified. “Did I interrupt something here?”

“Take a guess,” Jason replied. Delilah had a nervous smile plastered to her face, like she didn't know what else to do. Jason closed the front door and grabbed Eric by the collar of his rugby shirt.

“Can you excuse us a moment?” Jason asked Delilah, dragging his brother toward his bedroom. “This will only take a minute.”

Delilah just nodded.

Jason shoved Eric over the threshold to the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind them.

“What, did you plant some kind of tracking device on her?” Jason exclaimed, releasing Eric from his grasp.

Eric blinked uncomprehendingly. “Huh?”

“Every time I'm close to getting something started with Delilah, you manage to appear and kill the moment! How did you get up here, anyway?”

“Duh, the doorman knows I'm your brother.”

“I'm going to have to talk to him about that.” Jason glowered. “Guess what you're doing now?”

“Leaving?”

“That's right. Leaving. You're going to walk back out into the living room, you're going to tell Delilah it was nice to see her, and then you're going to disappear. Got it?”

“I hear you.” Eric dug his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Look, I'm sorry about this. Seriously. If I'd known you were trying to catch a ride on the Poontang Express, I would have left you alone.” Eric playfully punched his arm. “So, how far did you get? Second base?”

“You're such a dick, you know that?” said Jason, shaking his head in disgust.

“Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

“Only because I have to. Now get
out
of here.”

 

 

When Jason and
Eric returned to the living room, Delilah was no longer there. She was in the kitchen with Stanley, washing the coffee mugs and press.
Great.
Jason thought glumly.
Guess this party is over.

“Hey, Delilah,” Eric called meekly from the kitchen doorway. “Nice seeing you.”

Delilah turned from where she stood at the sink and smiled. “You, too, Eric.”

Eric ducked out of the doorway, and Jason led him to the front door.

“For what's it worth,” Eric concluded as Jason practically shoved him out into the hall, “you still suck on the ice.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Jason replied in a bored voice. He closed the door behind Eric and locked it. One problem solved, one more to go. He went to join Delilah in the kitchen.

“I'm really sorry.” Jason put his hands on Delilah's shoulders as he stood behind her. “Eric has this knack for turning up when he's least wanted.”

“It's okay,” she assured him as she carefully placed the coffee press on the drying rack. “I should be going anyway.”

“Delilah, please don't let my brother run you off.” He leaned down to plant the lightest of kisses on her shoulder. “We were having such a great time.”

“I know,” Delilah agreed as she turned to face him. “But I really do need to go. I have dogs to walk.”

“Right.” Jason's heart sank.
Dogs, dogs, always the dogs.

In a move unexpected—and therefore thrilling—to Jason, Delilah reached up to caress his cheek. “I had a really nice time tonight.”

“Me, too. Can we do it again?”

“I would like that,” Delilah murmured demurely.

Going with the moment, Jason drew her into an embrace. The next thing he knew, Stanley was trying to nose his way between them.

Jason groaned. “Today is not my day.”

“He doesn't want to be left out, that's all,” said Delilah. She crouched so she was eye level with Stanley. “You'll be my dream date tomorrow night, right, pal?” She looked up at Jason for confirmation. “You've got a game tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. I need you to take Mr. Suave here out for his final nighttime jaunt.”

“Thought so.” She rose. “And Sunday?”

“Sunday?” Jason was puzzled. “Oh, right, Sunday! I'll go to your mom's with you, no problem. Is there anything I should bring?”

“Flowers. And a thick skin.”

“Hey, I'm a hockey player. My skin's as thick as it gets.”

“Don't freak out.
I can explain.”

Delilah stood openmouthed in her doorway, staring at Eric. She'd been feeling unusually optimistic, even excited, about what the day might bring. After giving a command performance at her mother's, maybe she and Jason would come back to the city, have dinner, kiss and cuddle. For the first time in a long time, Delilah was feeling connected to a human rather than a canine. Until this.

Eric looked uncomfortable. “Can I come in?”

Delilah nodded, ushering him inside. Shock was slowing turning into worry.

“Was Jason hurt on the ice?”

“No, nothing like that.” Eric ran a hand through his wet hair. He looked as though he'd just come from the shower. “Jace woke up this morning sick as a dog. He called and asked me to go with you to your mom's—something about needing me to pose as your boyfriend, and your mom not taking no for an answer if you tried to bail. So here I am.”

“Oh.” Delilah was worried about Jason being sick. But that did nothing to quell the anxiety hiccuping its way into existence as she thought about spending half the day with Eric, whom she barely knew. “Um. I guess this is okay. I mean I guess.”

Eric peered at her questioningly. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” Delilah drummed her fingers against her side. “Totally, I mean really. Can you hang on one minute?”

“Sure.”

Delilah picked up the phone and calmly dialed her mother's number. She got the answering machine. Delilah knew Mitzi: she was there and simply choosing not to pick up. She also knew that if she left a message saying she couldn't make it for brunch, she'd get the “I almost died giving birth to you and you can't even come to my house for a nosh” speech. Delilah hung up the phone.

“We should go,” she said as she walked back to Eric. “Are you as smart as Jason?” she asked abruptly. “Because if you're not we might need to rethink this whole thing because it's just not going to work and my mother—”

Eric held up a hand. “Whoa, hang on there. First of all, I'm probably ten times smarter than my younger brother. Second, chill out.”

“I'm sorry,” Delilah said, forcing herself to meet his eye. “Sometimes when I get anxious I get a little”—
What was the word Jason used?
—“twittery. I'll calm down. I promise.”