Delilah Green Doesn't Care(Bright Falls #1)(28)

The effect was no small thing, brightening the shop in a way that made Delilah smile.

“This place is gorgeous,” she said, running her hand along the counter where Claire stood. “It didn’t look like this back when we were in high school.”

“Yeah, I know,” Claire said, fiddling with the books at her side. She stacked and then restacked them in a different arrangement, over and over. “When my mom remarried a few years ago, she and her husband wanted to travel, so I took over.”

Delilah leaned her elbows on the counter. She remembered Claire’s mother—Katherine. She had soft brown eyes and round hips, and she had been one of the few adults in this town who had treated Delilah like a normal kid as opposed to a nuisance. There was no Mr. Sutherland. He had taken off when Claire was around nine, right before she and her mother moved to Bright Falls, if Delilah’s memory served.

“You did all this?” she asked.

Claire met her eyes and stared for a few seconds. Delilah wasn’t sure Claire was even aware she was doing it, and she watched Claire’s throat bob in a hard swallow.

“Hello?” Delilah said, tapping the back of Claire’s hand softly, just once before drawing back.

Claire jolted, then cleared her throat and looked down, fiddling with the book stack again. “Um, yeah, I did. I want to do more. Add a café, get some local art on the walls that people can buy, but that takes money.”

“Most things do.” Delilah took the top book off of Claire’s stack and pretended to look at it. In truth, she was just thinking up ways to keep the conversation going, reasons she wouldn’t have to leave. She felt weirdly at ease in here. Plus, she was enjoying the way Claire got all flustered around her a little too much. “Your mom still traveling?”

“Yeah. She’s in”—Claire’s eyes narrowed in thought for a second—“Colorado this month. But she’ll be back for Astrid’s wedding.”

“Ah yes, the joyous occasion.” Delilah turned and rested her hip on the counter.

“Have you met Spencer yet?” Claire asked.

“Haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Oh, it’s a pleasure, all right.” Sarcasm coated Claire’s tone.

“That bad, huh?”

“I don’t know.” Claire waved a hand.

“If I recall correctly, you mentioned last night that you didn’t like him,” Delilah said.

Claire stiffened. “I’d rather not talk about last night, if you don’t mind.”

“?‘A total douche.’ That’s what you called him.”

Claire sighed, pressed her eyes closed. “I shouldn’t have said that. I thought—”

“That I was someone else.”

“And you knew exactly who I was.”

The words were sharp, ready, like Claire had been holding them in for a while. They looked at each other, the air between them so charged Delilah wondered if they might get a shock. She let the silence settle, let herself maintain eye contact. She had to play this delicately, or Claire would close up like a clam. There wasn’t any denying what happened last night, no way Delilah could feign ignorance.

So she didn’t.

Instead, she leaned into Claire’s space—not too much to crowd her, but enough to notice a stray eyelash on her cheek.

“I did,” Delilah said softly.

Claire’s brows dipped. “So . . . so you just let me make a fool of myself?”

“Fool?” Delilah frowned and tilted her head. “You didn’t make a fool of yourself. But would you have kept talking to me if you knew who I was?”

Claire pressed her mouth together.

“It’s okay. You can say it,” Delilah said.

“Say what?”

“That you would never have approached me if you’d known I was Delilah Green.”

“I . . . That’s not . . . You’re twisting it around.”

“Am I?”

Claire rubbed her forehead. “Okay, fine, no, I probably wouldn’t have come up to you like that if I’d known.”

“Well, there you go.”

“There you go what?”

Delilah leaned just a little closer, whispering her next words. “The reason I didn’t tell you who I was.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. True, Delilah had been a tad devious the night before at Stella’s, letting Claire go on like they were total strangers, reveling in how she’d feel when she found out they weren’t. But Delilah had also been turned on as hell, intrigued by adult, bisexual Claire Sutherland, a Claire who clearly thought adult Delilah was intriguing enough herself to approach in a bar.

The two women stared at each other for a moment before Claire pulled her gaze away and straightened her stack of books one more time.

“So that was quite an event today at Vivian’s,” Claire said.

“It was.”

“Exciting.”

“Ended with quite a bang.”

Claire’s mouth turned up at the corners—she was clearly trying to fight a laugh, which Delilah found completely delightful.

“So how mad was Astrid?” she asked.

“On a scale of one to ten?” Claire said. “Twenty-three.”

Delilah nodded, couldn’t help the smile that settled on her mouth. Claire watched her for a few seconds before clearing her throat.