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The subtle swell at the apple of her cheeks. The slender column of her neck. The wide bridge of her nose. Pierced lobes without any jewelry adorning them.

Full lips that only part in my presence to rebuke me.

She…is…insufferably beautiful.

Magnificent.

Defiant.

Uninterested.

Delilah is everything I should hate. And I would. If I could stop thinking about the fire blazing in her gaze. The menacingly maniacal energy she embodies with me just to turn around and be soft with my staff. And my fucking dog.

Titus would be at her feet right now if he wasn’t tearing down the homemade dinner Ms. Aggie left for him in the other room.

“What are you looking at?”

The rice clumps on my tongue at the intensity of her gaze.

She’s not being arrogant; her curiosity is palpable. From the tilt of her head to the way she leans forward in her chair, awaiting my answer.

And in five seconds flat, I ruin the moment. I have to.

“Why did you ask me for a hundred dollars the first time we met?”

A frown is quickly followed up by a hitch of her brow. Confused laughter tumbles out of her before she sits up straight and says, “I’ve never asked you for money, Adonis. What are you talking about?”

“You did. You asked me for a hundred dollars and when I asked you how you were going to pay me back you told me you never said you would.”

“Huh?”

“Stop fucking playing with me, Delilah. You’ve been playing me since we met in that graveyard.”

Be careful.

Her brother’s warning tone won’t leave my head. It was all I could think about when I went back to work after the hospital. And it’s all I can think about now that I’m sitting here with the person he warned me about.

“What are you talking about? I meet lots of people. It’s not my fault you don’t stand out. People usually aren’t as special as they think they are.”

She shrugs, but I can see the wheels spinning in her head. Her eyes flitting all over the place while she tries to connect the dots only to repeatedly come up empty.

Distress enters her expression. The same features that were playful and curious a minute ago are hopeless and…sad?

She’s not lying.

There’s a question in her eyes that she isn’t asking. But I want her to. Why do I want her to?

The answer is simple.

I need to understand this draw I’ve had to her since the night we met and why it won’t go away.

Instead of asking me anything, she shutters her gaze, leaving me with the same distant look as before.

Those eyes.

The same color as sand along the shoreline.

Murky but somehow beautiful, enchanting and bright.