Page 81 of 50 Ways to Win Back Your Lover

“I don’t need your attitude, Edgar.”

Exactly why I should’ve kept the compliment to myself.

Ricky and Aaron join us. Instead of boasting about their scarecrow finds, Aaron stares glumly at a gnarly one pinned to his chest. The tiny bugger seems to be covered in blood, and every time Ricky looks at him, he almost falls over laughing.

Ricky finally gathers himself, wiping at his eyes. “We found the scarecrow at Hatcher’s butcher shop, and he made Aaron pin it on his shirt and he . . .” Ricky cracks up again, leaning into Aaron, who looks resigned to being ridiculed. After a few calming breaths, Ricky says, “Hatcher pointed at Aaron with his bloody cleaver and told him not to take it off, so now Aaron thinks he’ll get axe murdered if he removes it.”

I snort out a laugh. “I guess Hatcher the Hatchet is as scary as ever.”

“He’s always bloody,” Aaron says and shudders. “Like, always. Blood on his clothes. Under his nails. I think he drinks the stuff. And no one knows what happened to his dog. One day that mutt was just gone.”

“It’s true,” Delilah says and pats Aaron’s shoulder. “Don’t mess with Hatcher. If I were you, I’d wear the scarecrow for at least a week.”

Ricky moves behind Aaron and mouths, A month, to Delilah.

“A month,” Delilah corrects quickly, keeping a straight face. Honestly, her acting is unreal. “Definitely a month.”

Aaron stares morosely at the creepy scarecrow as Avett and Naomi join our group. Their daughter, Simone, is sleeping cuddled on Avett’s chest, oblivious to the music and loud chatter in the square. We gather food and sit at a picnic table under the tent, plates laden with pulled pork sandwiches, mac and cheese, and a beet salad made with Windfall’s delicious farm-grown beets.

Delilah’s pressed up beside me, practically leaning on me, eating quietly. She steals looks at Ricky and Aaron laughing together, at Avett running a hand down his daughter’s back while Naomi whispers in his ear. Delilah’s eyes then flick to me, that same happy but fearful expression lingering.

Wanting to perk her up, I grab one of the fall-themed cupcakes Maggie brought to the table and take a massive bite, making sure the orange icing gets on my face and nose. Schooling my expression, I turn to Delilah. “Do I have something on my face?”

She takes one look at me and cackles. “Is this your first time eating a cupcake?”

“No. But it’s my first time doing this.” I cup the back of her neck and dive in for a kiss, smearing the icing on us both.

“Oh my God.” She laughs and shrieks, shoving at me so hard I fall off the end of the bench to the cheers of our friends. It’s okay. I don’t mind lying on the grass, looking up at Delilah’s shocked and indignantly amused face. Not when she used her signature you’re-an-idiot-E oh my God.

“You taste good with icing,” I tell her.

“You’re one wrong move from waking up with snails in the bed.”

I recoil. I developed my fear of snails when Desmond thought it would be funny to hide a few shell-less slugs in my open bag of Cheetos. Delilah was there for my flailing freak-out.

“Honestly. Don’t even joke about that.”

“I see no joking here.” Her evil-mastermind expression doesn’t bode well.

“I’ll never smear icing on you again,” I say as I rush to my feet and gather some Wet-Naps. “You’ll only get clean kisses from me for the rest of your life.”

Our friends shake their heads at us and leave to mingle.

Happy for the privacy, I wipe Delilah’s face gently and finish with a clean dry napkin, ensuring there’s no icing left behind. “See? Like it never happened, which means there’s no reason whatsoever to retaliate.”

She opens a fresh Wet-Nap and drags it slowly over my nose and mouth. “What if I don’t want only clean kisses from you?”

Yeah, okay. My body hums to life, but I pitch my voice low. “Do you want to experiment with dirtier sex, Delilah?”

Her slow drag of the cloth suddenly feels electric. “I think I might like dirty talk. The guys I’ve been with have always been quiet in bed, so I don’t know. And . . .” She looks up at me through her lashes. “I’m not sure I want to do the talking, but I think hearing it would turn me on.”

“Well.” I swallow through the lust drying my mouth. “I think we can work on that.”

“What about you?” she asks, shifting closer. “Is there some secret desire you’re curious about?”

Every second with Delilah is enough for me, but her blue eyes have darkened with intensity, like she’s dying to know what I fantasize about. Like she’s desperate to make my wants a reality. “I’ve never had sex in public.”

“As in . . . you might like it if other people watch?”