Page 81 of Big D!ck Energy

“Coffee?” I offered, because I had no idea what else to do. “I make excellent coffee.”

Delilah stared at me for a long moment, her expression cycling through several emotions I couldn't quite identify, before she let out a long breath, and some of the steel in her spine softened.

“Fine. Coffee. But it better be exceptional, because you're going to need it to survive this conversation.” Her gaze flicked between Davina and me. “And maybe put some clothes on.”

Twenty minutes later, we were arranged around my kitchen island like a war council. Delilah sat on one of the barstools, her posture perfect, her coffee untouched in front of her. Davina had claimed the stool next to her, Ricky curled protectively in her lap. I stood on the opposite side of the island, which felt safer somehow.

“I know it seems sudden,” Davina started, and I watched her slip into performance mode, her hand finding mine on the countertop. “But Dallas and I have been seeing each other secretly for a year. We just... didn't want to go public until we were sure.”

Delilah's eyebrow arched so high it nearly disappeared into her hairline. “A year?”

“Since Matt and Brooke's engagement party,” I added, squeezing Davina's hand. “That's when everything changed.”

“Changed.” Delilah's tone could have frozen the Gulf of Mexico. “At the party where, if I recall correctly, you called him a, what was it? Oh, that's right, a walking mid-life crisis with commitment issues.”

Davina's smile didn't waver, but I felt her fingers tighten around mine. “That was before I got to know him. Really know him.”

“Uh-huh.” Delilah picked up her coffee, took a long sip, and set it down. “And what, exactly, did you get to know that changed your mind?”

“His heart,” Davina said. “Under all the bravado and the showmanship, Dallas is... he's kind and thoughtful.”

I blinked.

“He's also standing right here,” I said, trying to recover, “and feeling very objectified by this conversation.”

“Good.” Delilah's gaze swung to me like a spotlight. “Your turn. Convince me.”

“Convince you of what?”

“That you're in love with my sister. That this isn't some elaborate PR stunt or drunken mistake you're both too stubborn to undo.” She leaned forward.

I took a breath. Thought about the story Sam had helped us craft. Then I thought about this morning, waking up with Davina in my arms.

Maybe the best lies were the ones threaded with truth.

“When I met your sister,” I said slowly, “she told me my personality was a red flag factory, and my haircut was a cry for help.”

Delilah's lips twitched. “That sounds like her.”

“It was the hottest thing anyone had ever said to me.”

Davina made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Dallas…”

“No, let me finish.” I turned to face her fully. “Every woman I've ever met either wanted something from me or was intimidated by me. But Davina? She looked at me like I was a puzzle she was going to solve, whether I liked it or not. She challenged everything I said. She didn't care about my career or my money or my…”

“Good looks?” Davina supplied dryly.

“I was going to say championship titles, but sure.” I grinned at her, and her answering smile made my heart stutter. “The point is, she saw through all of it. Saw me. And instead of running away, she stuck around to tell me exactly how I could be better.”

“By insulting you on a podcast?”

“By being honest.” I shrugged. “No one's ever been that honest with me. It was terrifying. It was also the most attractive thing I'd ever experienced.”

Delilah was watching us with narrowed eyes, her gaze ping-ponging between our faces.

“So all those podcast episodes...” she said slowly.

“Flirting,” Davina said, and her cheeks flushed pink in a way that made me want to kiss her. “Very aggressive, very public flirting that I was in complete denial about.”