“We could have our own party,” Scooter suggested.
“Just the three of us?” she asked loud enough for Nick to hear. He used to call her a baby, usually right after he’d thrown a grasshopper at her. She wasn’t a baby now.
A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth, then he turned and disappeared into the market.
“We could go back to our house,” Wes continued. “Our parents are out of town.”
Delaney returned her attention to the brothers. “Ah… are you going to invite anyone else?”
“Why?”
“For a party,” she answered.
“Do you have any girlfriends you can call?”
She thought about her only friend home sick with a cold and shook her head. “Don’t you know some other people you can invite?”
Scooter smiled and took a step closer. “Why would I want to do that?”
For the first time, apprehension fluttered in Delaney’s stomach. “Because you want to party, remember?”
“We’ll party. Don’t you worry.”
“You’re scaring her, Scoot.” Wes pushed his brother and knocked him aside. “Come back to our house and we’ll call people from there.”
Delaney didn’t believe him and lowered her gaze to her sandals. She’d wanted to be like other eighteen-year-old girls. She’d wanted to do something reckless, but she wasn’t up for a threesome. And there was no doubt that’s what they had in mind. If and when Delaney decided to lose her virginity, it wouldn’t be with one or both of the Finleys. She’d seen their pale butts-and thank you, no.
Getting rid of them was going to be difficult, and she wondered how long she would have to stand in front of the Hollywood Market before they finally gave up and went away.
When she looked up, Nick stood by the side of his car shoving a six-pack of beer in the backseat. He straightened, rested his weight on one foot, and pinned his gaze on Delaney. He stared at her for several long moments, then said, “Come here, princess.”
There’d been a time when she’d been both frightened and fascinated by him at the same time. He’d always been so cocky, so sure of himself, and so forbidden. She was no longer afraid, and the way she saw it, she had two choices: trust him or trust the Finleys. Neither option was great, but despite his nasty reputation, she knew Nick wouldn’t force her to do something she didn’t want to do. She wasn’t so sure she could say the same for Scooter and Wes. “See you guys around,” she said, then slowly walked to the baddest of the bad boys. The leap in her pulse had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the smooth rich tone of his voice.
“Where’s your car?”
“I walked into town.”
He opened the driver’s side door. “Climb in.”
She looked up into his smoky eyes. He wasn’t a boy anymore, no doubt about it. “Where are we going?”
He nodded toward the Finleys. “Does it matter?”
It probably should have. “You aren’t going to take me on a snipe hunt and dump me in the forest, are you?”
“Not tonight. You’re safe.”
She tossed her sweater into the back and climbed across the console and into the passenger seat with as much dignity as possible. Nick fired up the Mustang, and the dash lights flashed to life. He backed out of the parking lot and pulled onto Fifth. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” she asked, excitement tingling her nerve endings. She couldn’t believe she was actually sitting in Nick’s car. She couldn’t wait to tell Lisa. It was just too incredible.
“I’m taking you back home.”
“No!” She turned toward him. “You can’t. I don’t want to go back there. I can’t go back yet.”
He glanced at her then returned his gaze to the dark road before him. “Why not?”
“Stop and let me out,” she said instead of answering his question. How could she explain to anyone, let alone Nick, that she couldn’t breathe there anymore? It felt like Henry had his foot on her throat, and she couldn’t get air deep inside her lungs. How could she explain to Nick that she’d waited most of her life to break free of Henry, but now she knew that day would never happen? How could she explain that this was her way of finally fighting back? He’d probably laugh at her and think she was immature, like Henry and her mother did. She knew she was naive, and she hated it. Her eyes began to water, and she turned away. The thought of crying like a baby in front of Nick horrified her. “Just let me out here.”
Instead of stopping, he turned the Mustang onto the road leading to Delaney’s house. The street ahead of the car’s headlights was like an inky tube, shadowed by towering pine and lit only by the reflection of the center divider.
“If you take me home, I’ll just leave again.”
“Are you over there crying?”
“No,” she lied, forcing her eyes real wide, hoping the wind would hurry and dry them out.
“What were you doing with the Finleys?”
She glanced over at him, his face cast in the gold lights of the dashboard. “Looking for something to do.”
“Those two guys are bad news.”
“I can handle Scooter and Wes,” she bragged, although she wasn’t so sure.
“Bullshit,” he said and stopped the Mustang at the end of the long drive leading to her house. “Now, go on home where you belong.”
“Don’t tell me where I belong,” she said as she reached for the handle and shoved the door with her shoulder. She was sick to death of everyone telling her where to go and what to do. She jumped from the car and slammed the door behind her. With her head high, she headed back toward town. She was too angry for tears.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he called after her.
Delaney flipped him the bird and it felt good. Freeing. She kept walking and heard him swear right before the sound of his voice was drowned out by the squeal of tires.
“Get in,” he shouted as the car pulled alongside her.
“Go to hell.”
“I said get in!”
“And I said go to hell!”
The car stopped but she kept on walking. She didn’t know where she was going this time, but she wasn’t going back home until she was good and ready. She didn’t want to go to the University of Idaho. She didn’t want a degree in business. And she didn’t want to spend any more of her life in a little town where she couldn’t breathe.
Nick grabbed her arm and spun her around. The headlights lit him from behind, and he looked huge and imposing. “For Christ sake, what is your problem?”
She pushed at him and he grabbed her other arm. “Why should I tell you? You don’t care. You just want to dump me.” Tears pooled on her lower lashes, and she was mortified. “Don’t you dare call me a baby. I’m eighteen.”
His gaze drifted from her forehead to her mouth. “I know how old you are.”
She blinked and stared at him through blurred vision, at the finely etched bow of his top lip, his straight nose, and his clear eyes. Months of angry frustration poured out of her like water through a sieve. “I’m old enough to know what I want to do with my life. And I don’t want to go to college. I don’t want to go into business, and I don’t want anyone to tell me what’s best for me.” She took a deep breath, then continued. “I want to live my own life. I want to think about myself first. I’m tired of trying to be perfect, and I want to screw up like everybody else.” She thought a moment, then said, “I want everyone to back off. I want to experience life-my life. I want to suck the marrow. Take a walk on the wild side. I want to take a bite out of my life.”