Page 29 of Hello Trouble

HAYES

Della was flirting with me?

Mixed with her silliness and then the nervous glance of her eyes to the table, it was... so fucking cute.

Della didn’t play games like a lot of women, doing the coordinated dance that brought two people from strangers to lovers sharing a bed. She was a friend, a comedian, a confidant, and a conspirator all at once.

It made me want to hide her away from the world and keep her all to myself. Take her away from this restaurant so I could kiss her in private, thoroughly. Until she was purring like the pretty vintage Ferrari I worked with earlier today.

But then Agatha interrupted, having the audacity to ask us for our orders. I glanced up at her, almost surprised we weren’t alone, like the world outside of Della still existed.

We couldn’t place them fast enough for my liking, but once it was all written in that little notepad, Agatha left us alone once again.

I had Della all to myself, even in this crowd of people.

She kept her phone in her purse, not texting and distracted like most people.

Selfishly, I wanted those pretty green eyes, her attention, her thoughts, on me and me alone.

She was getting all of mine. We were in this crowded diner, smells and sounds coming at us from every direction. But I didn’t notice any of them. Just her.

“Can I ask about your tattoos?” Della asked, surprising me.

“You just did,” I countered.

She gave me an annoyed roll of her eyes, continuing with her question. “What do they mean?”

“Which one?” I replied, stretching out my arms.

She grazed her fingertips over the ink on the back of my knuckles.

I looked down at her fingers tracing the ink. “These mean I was tired of seeing scars from fights when I was young and dumb.”

She froze for a moment, and I wondered what she thought of that. I wasn’t ashamed of my past, but I wasn’t proud of it either.

Instead of pressing for more information about my fights, her fingertips trailed up to the sunflower covering the back of my hand. “My mom’s favorite flower.” My voice was husky thinking of the dream from earlier that day.

My skin shivered as she moved her fingertips up my arm to a tattoo of a tiger stretching across my forearm. “This one?”

“I was drunk at a friend’s tattoo shop.”

She frowned. “It’s against the law to tattoo inebriated people.”

“Inebriated people with big mouths,” I corrected with a smirk.

That rewarded me with a twitch of her lips, and she walked two fingers farther up my arm. She had to lean forward, her full chest brushing the table in the most distracting way. I had to draw my attention back to her fingers when she stopped at a tattoo of a bundle of daisies.

“Got that one when Maya was born.”

Her fingers traveled toward some more flowers.

“When Knox married Larkin, I needed one for Emily and Jackson.”

“I can’t reach any farther,” she pouted, dancing her fingers at the edge of my shirt sleeve.

So I took her hand in mine and kissed her fingertips.

“There are plenty more to ask about later.” Some of them had meaning, some of them held stories, and I found myself looking forward to sharing all of them with her.

The experience was a mix of old and new—walking down memory lane but doing so with someone new.

And Della had so many opinions. She always made me think of things in a new way, even when she was arguing with me.

“What are you thinking?” she asked me.

I turned her hand over in mine, tracing the soft lines on her palm. “Thinking I should get your name tattooed on me.” I dragged my free finger along the blank space from my ear to my forehead. “Here.”

Her eyes widened in shock, and I burst out laughing.

“You suck,” she said, swatting at my arm with her free hand. But her other hand was still resting in mine.

I smiled back at her—it was fun to get a rise out of her from time to time. “I’ll get it somewhere better. Like my co?—”

“Here’s your food,” Agatha cut in, an amused smile dancing in her eyes. As she slid our plates in front of us, she added, “You’re about as much trouble as your dad.”

I gave Agatha a salacious smirk. “Tell me more about this trouble.”

“Hayes,” Della said with a roll of her eyes. Even so, Agatha’s cheeks were flushing red.

“Let me know when you need something—like a whoopin’,” she retorted, walking away.

But I winked at Della. “I think I’ll get the whoopin’ from you.”

Her laugh was deep and throaty. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Thank you,” I replied, reaching for my sandwich. The smell of fried chicken lifted from the plate, and my mouth was already watering. I took a bite, and damn, she was right. “This is incredible.”

“As always,” she said with a smile over the half of the chicken-bacon-ranch sandwich she held in her hands.

“I think you’ve ruined me for all other sandwiches.”

“That’s what every girl wants to hear,” she fired back, wiping a bit of ranch from her lips.

God, that had me turned on. Suddenly, I was thankful to be sitting at the table. I ran through a list of engine parts in my brain, and then, when I cooled down, continued the conversation.

“You never told me if you have any tattoos,” I said.

She made a show of chewing for a long time, the apples of her cheeks tinging pink. “I didn’t,” she finally said.

I grinned wide. “You do have a tattoo.”

She took another bite.

My smile grew. “It’s a butterfly, isn’t it?”

“Fuck you,” she mumbled over her food.

“Where is it!?” I said, way too excited to see it. “Tell me it’s on your lower back.”

She glared at me.

“Your ankle?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Your wrist?” Although how could I have missed it? I’d love to see some ink on that perfect porcelain skin of hers.

“I guess that’s for me to know and...” Her words trailed off.

“And for me to find out.” I bit my bottom lip, thinking of how I’d worship every inch of her until I found the design.

Her cheeks flushed again.

If she reacted so strongly to my words, how would she respond to my touch?

I closed my eyes again, hunching over. This woman would be the death of me.

Alternators.

Gasket.

Intake manifold.

“You okay over there?” Della asked.

I opened my eyes to find her curious stare. “I’m just fine,” I managed.

She shrugged and took a bite of her sandwich. When she set it back down, she ran a napkin over her lips. “What’s your middle name?” she asked.

My eyebrows rose. “Random.”

“I can’t date a guy and not know his middle name.” She dragged a fry through ketchup.

My hands were stalled on the table. “But then you’ll use it...”

“And?” she countered.

“And I don’t like my middle name.”

She shrugged. “Guess it’s been nice knowing you.”

Fuck. “Really?”

She giggled and ate her fry. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

I raised my eyebrows, shaking my head.

She leaned forward, both arms on the table. “Okay, you have me so curious that I will never stop asking. So save yourself the perpetual torment and my eventual sleuthing and tell me.” She batted her eyelashes. “Please?”

Fuck. How could I turn her down? Especially when she had me smiling already. “It’s...” I cringed. “Brain.”

“What?” She stalled with a confused look, midway through picking up her sandwich. “Rayne?”

“No, it’s Brain.” I grimaced. “Like the organ.”

Hearty giggles shook her chest. “Brain? Why ?”

“Because my dad was in charge of filling out the birth certificate while watching my older brothers. He was supposed to write ‘Brian’, but he got distracted and mixed up the letters. Guess the nurse didn’t notice. Thank fuck he spelled my first name right.”

Still laughing, she said, “They couldn’t fix it?”

“Mom thought it was a hoot, so they kept it.”

Della’s laughter grew even louder, and even my lips were twitching.

“I think I love your mom,” she said, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.

My smile softened to something liquid, like warmth spreading in my chest. I wasn’t sure I believed in signs, but maybe this was one. The fact that my middle name and this story randomly came up while sitting in the diner the night after a terrible nightmare.

Maybe it was Mom saying everything was going to be okay.

God, I hoped so.