Steal Me (Haunted Roads Book 1) Read online

Delilah was sweetly correcting Bailey. “Where are your Ls, pretty girl?”

  Cole laughed. “The only two that don’t know that this is a relationship”—he pointed to Delilah and me—“are the two in it.”

  I guess not.

  Bailey was studying Delilah’s mouth and saying, “Dew-lilah.”

  “Good girl!” Delilah was hugging Bailey and smiling at me. She mouthed, “You okay?”

  Looking at her beautiful face and knowing she cared for me and my sister, I was doing much better. I smiled and nodded. Friends observed us as I sat down next to Delilah, wincing. “Sorry.”

  Delilah winked. “Don’t feel bad. I’ve been getting denial lectures all day.”

  My thigh accidently rubbed up against hers, and it sent a shock through my body. How could such a simple grazing of clothing be so consuming? I couldn’t stop thinking about the connection. She didn’t retreat from me. I could barely focus on the waiter who appeared in front of us. “You want anything to drink?”

  “Uh…” I pointed to Bailey. “She’ll have milk, and I’ll have water.” The waiter handed me a menu before walking away.

  “Jazebelle? Is Hailey here?” asked Bailey.

  “No, sugar bear. She’s at home.” Jaz smiled at Bailey as if she wanted to eat her up. Jaz was simply a natural with kids. She was a beaming light that they fled to.

  I tried not to rub my thigh on Delilah, but I sure wanted to. “You order yet?”

  She played with Bailey’s hair while she sat in her lap. “Nope. I waited for Bailey.”

  “You did?” Bailey looked completely honored.

  Delilah tapped the tip of Bailey’s nose. “Of course I did.”

  The group was carrying on, yelling over booths as if other patrons weren’t trying to eat their dinner in peace. Nash, Nelson, and Bryce were in a sugar-packet-throwing contest.

  Our maturity level amazes me.

  “Twins!” Jaz hollered. “You got a packet in my water. I’m going to egg your cars.”

  I thought that quite the price to pay for a wandering sugar packet. Nash and Nelson just looked at each other but said nothing. Something was totally going on between the three of them. I think there’s a different kind of sugar flying around here.

  It was cool seeing Tucker out with everyone. It was rare, but you couldn’t blame him, being in college and all.

  Just then, a sugar packet bounced off my head. I couldn’t help but throw it back with a smile.

  The waiter returned with our drinks, crayons, and a coloring book. I told him, “The little one will have pasta with meatballs.”

  The waiter told me, “The children’s menu only offers one meatball.”

  “No, make it an adult portion, please, and an applesauce for her dessert.” I looked over. “Delilah? What do you want? My treat.”

  She graciously smiled. “I’ll have a chef salad with oil and vinegar please.”

  “Damn, that sounds good. Uh, I’ll have a steak and cheese Philly with mashed potatoes instead of fries.”

  “Mmm, that sounds good, too.” Delilah shocked me. I loved a girl who wasn’t afraid to eat.

  “Then we can share,” I told her.

  When I heard Bryce heckling from Tuck’s booth, “Awe, they is gonna share,” I knew I was in for more teasing.

  “I have a tear in my eye,” said Nash.

  “Here, let me dab that for you with my hanky,” offered Nelson.

  “Oh, thank you, Nelly Welly.” Fake sniffle, sniffle.

  Assholes.

  When the waiter left, Cole leaned across our table. “I’m your friend, Mavy boy. Buying me dinner, too? I put out, unlike Delilah.”

  Tucker started to turn in his seat to defend his sister but was too late.

  I jokingly slapped Cole across the face. “Stop being a jealous bitch.”

  Tucker grinned at me over his shoulder then turned back around, seeming satisfied I’d handled Cole Coleman.

  Cole fell back in his booth, laughing, telling Hu, “That bitch just called me a bitch!”

  With her back to us, Viola said, “And bitch slapped your stupid ass.”

  “Stupid ass,” Bailey echoed while busy coloring.

  Oh shit! I could barely keep from laughing. “Bailey, don’t copy Aunt Viola. She’s a bad, bad girl.”

  “That’s right, and a bit evil, too,” said Bryce, peaking over Tucker and V’s heads.

  Tucker looked over his shoulder again. “Maverick, you’re mine tomorrow. I’m getting a tattoo of my sister’s name. You in for your sis?”

  Fuck yes. “I’m so in. How much?”

  He turned back around, saying, “Free tats for big brothers. Feel me?”

  “Yep.”

  Viola kissed his cheek for some reason. “My Tucky Ducky comin’ through.”

  Bryce complained about the kiss from across their booth. “Hey! I’m right here!”

  Viola seemed to be the only human alive who was permitted to call big Tucker a ridiculous nickname like Tucky Ducky. Just another sign my suspicions had to be true.

  I touched Bailey’s hair, thinking how I’d love to be inked with her name. Without turning around this time, Tucker said, “And your, uh—friend can help with Bailey while it’s getting done.”

  Everyone busted out laughing except for Delilah and me. Tucker had just called us out.

  When the food came, I tried to move Bailey from Delilah’s lap, but she refused. I would have forced her to mind me, but Delilah interfered. “Don’t touch this baby. She can stay right where she is.”

  Bailey stuck out her tongue at me.

  “You’re corrupting my Peanut!”

  Viola loved it. “Only gonna get worse, soldier. Eat your food.”

  Delilah ate her salad with one hand while her other arm rested around Bailey’s waist. I offered Delilah some of my sandwich. “Wanna bite?”

  Delilah nodded and opened her mouth, exposing a luscious tongue. Of course, my mind went straight to thoughts of how nice that softness would feel on my… umm, brother nearby. Maybe you should get mind out of gutter, Maverick.

  She took a bite, and I watched cheese string from the sandwich in my hand to her sexy mouth. I tried to focus on anything but her swirling tongue, but a lot of things went a little haywire simultaneously. As cheese still hung between Delilah and me, Bailey’s milk began to tumble after she reached for it.

  Within seconds, I had one hand holding my Philly sandwich and my other hand catching the falling glass. Delilah was holding Bailey and trying to catch the spilling applesauce that Bailey’s little elbow was hitting. Meanwhile, the sandwich cheese was dripping farther and farther down, threatening Delilah’s blouse.

  What was I to do except find myself in a compromising position? Having no free hands, I leaned down and sucked in the hanging cheese, and as my mouth traveled, I ended up face to face with Delilah, sharing food, like the famous spaghetti scene in the cartoon movie Lady and the Tramp.

  Awkward much?

  We both froze with shocked faces.

  “Mavowick? Are you twying to kiss De-l-ilah?”

  Of course, hoots and hollers from the gang exploded all around us. I was still trying to correct the mishap when I heard Tucker ask, “So, he’s got the balls to make out with my sister right in front of me?” He never turned around as the accusation lingered in the air. I only saw his big shoulders moving as he worked at his dinner plate.

  Oh, goody. I’m finally getting my Tucker ass beating.

  Another snide, unneeded comment came from Cole. “Technically, it’s behind your back, Tuck. In my opinion, that’s even worse.”

  Nash, Nelson, Viola, Bryce, and Hu were howling with laughter.

  I mumbled to Cole, “Thanks for your input, buddy.”

  “I’m here for ya, Mav.”

  Delilah was laughing too, fortunately, as we struggled with our mess. Of course, when I asked if she wanted another bite, more laughter took place from our audience. She waved me off. “No, I’m sticking to my salad. Thank you
.”

  I polished off my sandwich and then waited for leftovers. Knowing the routine, Bailey handed over her bowl of pasta when she was done. After I finished Bailey’s dinner, Delilah giggled as I eyed her abandoned plate. “You can’t possibly have room in your stomach!”

  Finally, I was satisfied… once I’d finished Delilah’s salad.

  Cole stood up and told Delilah, “Hand over the chick magnet. This place is hopping tonight.”

  Bailey knew this routine, also, and stepped over me to get into Cole’s arms. Once he had her, Bailey asked him, “Are you my big brwotho tonight, or did my bad mommy leave you to waise me on your own, again?”

  Cole grinned down at Delilah and me then said, as he walked away, “Let’s go with the big-brother routine. Seems to be working like a charm at table four.”

  Chapter Six

  When Delilah pulled up in my driveway, Bailey squealed, “Dewiwah!” Bailey was a little upset that my mom was already in bed, so I didn’t bother correcting her.

  Delilah waved from behind Tuck’s steering wheel and yelled out the car window, “Hi, baby!” The motor was purring in idle.

  I responded to the happy welcoming that was not intended for me. “Hey, Delilah.”

  Delilah rolled her eyes, but her tender smile told me she liked my play. Tucker got out of the front passenger seat of his souped-up black Mustang, chuckling. “Don’t think she was talking to you, sport.”

  I hadn’t understood why Delilah and Tucker insisted on picking up Bailey and me until I got in the backseat and saw two cases of beer. After strapping in Bailey’s car seat, I crawled in the back with her, and we headed to a friend of Tucker’s. Bailey squealed for no reason clear to us. Tucker turned in his seat to grin at her. “What up, Bailey?”

  “I wuv how yo moto sounds! It tickles my belly. Is this a race cawr, Tucko?”

  His eyes met mine. Her impediment was thick. Tucker understood. I knew he did because he nodded at me but said to Bailey, “Why, yes it is. And Delilah is a race driver. You buckled in tight?”

  Another squeal escaped Bailey as her legs kicked uncontrollably.

  “Sis, let’s do this,” he said.

  The engine roared, and little Bailey got to forget about all her worries for a while.

  As we pulled up a driveway, I looked out the car window. “Damn. Nice crib.” It was a two-story home, which seemed to be the norm in that town, but it was newer than most and had a professionally manicured lawn, announcing that a stuffed shirt lived inside.

  Tucker folded the front seat forward again so I could get out. “Yeah, he makes mad money with his tattoo shop, and you wouldn’t know it by looking at him, but he’s extremely good with his investments.”

  I unbuckled Bailey and she crawled over me in a hurry. “Tucko, can I come?”

  “Sure, you can!” He put his arms out for her. She accepted him until Delilah came around the hood of the car. Tucker laughed as Bailey dove from his arms to Delilah’s. “Oh, don’t we have favorites.”

  Without knocking, as if he owned the place, Tucker led us inside. In the front living room, a deep voice echoed. A guy was on a guitar, strumming away, singing “Dogs of War.” I couldn’t believe how personal it was hearing someone sing from his soul. That was exactly what this man was doing, and it was haunting.

  Tucker was right; the biker-looking dude was not your average model of a wise business type but had a depth I couldn’t describe.

  “Hey!” the man said. His fingers stilled. “Ready for me to poke ya?” The rough-looking character put down his guitar and stood up so Tucker could hug him. He had long hair, and every inch of his skin looked to be covered in ink.

  Tucker winced at the tall, stout man. “Poke me? Motherfucker, you wish I’d let you poke this.”

  “Tucker! Language.”

  Tattoo Man looked to Delilah. “There she is. Love on me, baby girl.”

  Delilah seemed to know him well and looked very comfortable as she hugged him. “Diesel, I would like you to meet my friend Maverick.”

  Diesel shook my hand with his big old paw. “How’s it going?”

  “Good,” I said. “Thanks for doing this. Very grateful.”

  “Don’t mention it. Thanks for helping out our girl with the car situation.”

  Didn’t see that coming.

  Tucker was already ripping open a case of beer. “Diesel here has taught me a lot about engines. He’s helping us, too.” A beer flew at me. Tucker grinned as I caught it. “You might want to drink that.”

  I looked at Bailey, who was asking, “Mr. Diesel, may I touch your guitawr?”

  Wow, she is comfortable here. Also not expected.

  Another heart was done for. Mr. Diesel said, “Because you asked so nicely, yes, you may.”

  Tucker threw his arm around my shoulders and dragged me off. “Bailey’s fine. Drink up!” He was in an unusually fun mood, like a kid in a candy store with a hundred-dollar bill to spend.

  We walked into the kitchen, which was brightly lit and quite large. There were dark-wood cabinets all around and top-notch appliances with all the bells and whistles—anything a chef could desire—and an island with a badass gas stove and a built-in grill. There was also a table set up in the corner with stuff I’d never seen before on it, all wrapped up as if we were in a noncontaminated surgery room.

  A metal gun, plugged into the wall, was obviously some sort of torture device. I opened my beer and guzzled down the liquid courage, trying to drown out the little bitch screaming, Run in my head.

  Tucker slammed my back, saying, “That’s my boy!” and causing me to choke and stumble forward. Then he sat down—in the surgery corner—pulled off his shirt, rested his arm on a plastic-covered tray and pointed to his left bicep. “Diesel, I want Delilah right across here.”

  Diesel sat down on a stool with wheels and made some final touches on a drawing on what looked like tissue paper. Then he held it up. “How’s this, brother?”

  It. Was. Bad. Ass. Delilah’s name was in a fancy script through a detailed sun.

  After Diesel put gloves on and drew the outline on Tucker’s arm, Tucker called out, “Lilah, come tell me what you think.” He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the design on his arm. Delilah came in, carrying Bailey. When her eyes caught her name, they watered. “A sun?”

  He smiled at her adoringly. “My light.”

  With one arm, she hugged him, seeming extremely touched. “Each other’s light.”

  Bailey, perched on Delilah’s hip, asked, “What is it?”

  Diesel dipped the tip of his gun in some ink. “A drawing of Delilah’s name. Tucker wants it so he can think of his sister he loves whenever he looks at it.”

  Bailey reached out to touch it. “Can I have one?”

  My eyes bugged out of my head at the thought of Bailey permanently marking her beautiful skin. Diesel asked, “What do you mean, sugar?”

  “I want a picho of my bwotho’s name on me.”

  All three of us males grabbed our hearts. Delilah hugged and kissed Bailey. Diesel—this big, tough guy—was putty in Bailey’s tiny hands. “Well, you’re a little too young right now, but I’ll tell you what: when you’re all grown up, if you still want one, it’s on the house.”

  We all laughed when Bailey looked up at the ceiling to see what was on the house.

  “Your brother wants to get your name. What do you think?” asked Tucker.

  Bailey beamed at me. “You want to think of me all the time?”

  I struggled to get past another lump in my throat. “Yes, Peanut. All the time.”

  Bailey was entranced as the gun marked Tucker’s arm. It was buzzing away while Diesel wiped Tucker’s markings with a towel. “Does it huwrt?”

  Tucker scrunched his face. “Na.” Sweat was dripping down his forehead.

  I guzzled another beer. Fuck, this is gonna hurt.

  Tucker was settling in for a long ride and possibly needed a distraction. “All right, Mavy boy. Mr. Coleman has informe
d me that you have gained a new friend.”

  “Did he now?” I asked, realizing that the smart little bastard hadn’t missed Jerry’s and my exchange about the homecoming dance.

  Delilah was getting Bailey some milk—still with an attachment on her hip. “What new friend?”

  I held up a hand. “I’m a big boy. I can fight my own battles.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  Fuck! “Without fighting, that is.”

  That beauty smiled at me, and I sighed like a pansy.

  Tucker observed us. “What do you mean, no fighting?”

  “Because it’s immature, and there are other ways to settle matters,” answered Delilah.

  Diesel’s voice rumbled. “Said by a female who can avoid fighting.”

  Tucker threw an empty paper cup at me because I was still staring at his sister. “Is this a big-boy issue?”

  “Hold still, dumbass,” said the man with the electric gun.

  “What does ‘big-boy issue’ mean, Tucker?” Delilah asked, sounding a little concerned.

  Diesel chuckled over the buzzing sound. “Sometimes, us big guys tend to have challengers, wanting the rep that they made the big guy tumble.”

  “Fucking dumbasses,” growled the tattoo guinea pig.

  “Tucker! Language!” Delilah yelled.

  “Damn! Oh shit! Damn! Ugh, sorry…” He blew out air then whined, “This is hard, Lilah.”

  Delilah took a deep breath, trying to control her rage. “We need a new word for your bad-habit expressions, especially the F word.”

  Tucker looked as if he was being punished. “But that’s my favorite word!”

  “I know, but change is a must. How about ‘What the crazy’?”

  Diesel was displeased. “What the fu—”

  “Diesel!”

  “Crazy—I meant crazy. Shit. Damn! Oh hell.”

  Tucker was mumbling, “This is fu—” He eyed his sister, who was eyeing him. “Crazed up.”

  Delilah smiled. “Thank you.” The one in her arms would be spared vulgarity.

  This girl owns my heart already.

  Tucker went back to our original conversation. “FYI, your new fan has got it bad for my sister. Watch your back with his minions since you and Lilah are friends and all.”