Chapter Two

I Prefer Shadower to Stalker, Thank You Very Much

Paul's POV

A week had passed since the night that I'd first laid eyes on Delilah Quinn, and it was becoming more and more difficult to find a plausible reason for showing up at the home of Mary Dodson, a woman I barely knew, on a daily basis. It had been easy to begin with, to find chores that needed to be done, repairs to be made, anything that would enable me to catch a glimpse of my Lilah, even if it was a fleeting glance, but after a week I was running out of things to do, and my frequent appearances were starting to raise suspicion in the community.

Something had become obvious to me the night that we'd welcomed Lilah to the neighborhood, something that would have made me see red if I hadn't also seen that it was one-sided and pathetic and that was that Mary's nephew Sonny had a serious jones happening for my Lilah. It wasn't surprising that other men would want her; I expected that, as much as I may have hated it, but did it have to be him that I watched salivating after my girl? He'd never really fit in on the rez, he was way too weird. All he'd ever cared about was vegging out on his auntie's couch and working on his computers, so mostly he was overlooked, but he damn sure got my attention when I saw him staring at Lilah with his eyes all boggled out and his tongue hanging out of his mouth. I hadn't made my mind up just yet what exactly it was that I was going to do to him, but he was damn sure going to find out quick that he wasn't to look at her like that anymore...he wasn't even going to think about her...not after he and I had a little clarifying conversation.

Apparently Sonny wasn't one to stoop to menial labor, which I was thankful for because his laziness had afforded me the one excuse to hang around, hoping for a peek at Lilah, and I was putting the finishing touches on a paint job on the chicken coop when I caught a pleasant scent on the air, a scent that had become very familiar, very intoxicating to me in the past week. I bent and threw my paintbrush into an empty can and stretched sinuously, knowing damn good and well that she was standing behind me, hoping that the sight of the rippling muscles of my back would be a turn-on for her.

I was encouraged by the slight hitch that I detected in her heartbeat, but I didn't let on that I'd heard her coming. The truth was, of course, that I'd smelled her, that I'd felt her before I heard her tread on the ground, but there was no reason to discuss that with her. I waited until I heard her shift somewhat nervously from one foot to the other, 'til I heard her clear her throat to turn and give her what she thought was only at that moment my complete attention, when the reality was that I'd thought of nothing else but her all week.

A lot of people would never look you directly in the eyes; they seemed to find that sort of contact uncomfortable, but not my Lilah. Of course, it was something that was considered to be an aggressive behavior in the animal world, but I kind of liked it myself. I wasn't sure what she felt when our eyes connected. I was pretty confident that it was nothing like what happened to me, the shifting of the earth beneath my feet, the warm glow that took hold of me, feelings that I still wasn't completely comfortable with, but I hoped that she felt something, any little bit that might push her in my direction.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your work, but I thought that you might be hungry," she said, smiling in a way that I knew she meant to only be friendly, but which grabbed hold of me like it had been a caress. I also knew that she'd intended her words to be straightforward, an invitation to do nothing more than partake of whatever meal that she'd prepared, but I couldn't keep my mind from traveling to the gutter every damn time she said something like that. 'Are you hungry?' or 'I thought that you might be hungry.' She was damn skippy that I was hungry, hell, I was freakin' famished, but not just for whatever culinary delights she was offering...I was starving for her...more so than I'd ever been for a woman in my entire life.

"I made some sandwiches from the chicken leftover from last night's dinner," she continued, her gaze faltering from mine as I continued to stare at her and I cursed myself for being such an idiot, knowing damn good and well that I was allowing too much of my feelings to show in my eyes. "It's nothing fancy, but you seem like someone with a voracious appetite, so I thought I'd make the offer."

She really had no idea how voracious my appetite could be, at least not where she was concerned. Hell, it wouldn't be much of a stretch to say that I would be downright insatiable if I was ever to get a taste of her. I had found myself on more than one occasion imagining what her skin tasted like. Would it be honey all over, or would there be a hint of that spice that I'd witnessed the first time I'd seen her? Were her lips as soft as they looked and what would they feel like beneath mine? How many others had tasted her, had known her in ways that I might only dream of...I couldn't think about that...it made me crazy if I did.

"Am I supposed to take this as a no?" she asked, bringing me out of my reverie. "It would be much more polite for you to say the word, you know, as opposed to staring at me and making me self-conscious. I wasn't trying to force you to eat my food; I was just trying to be courteous."

She started to turn and walk away from me and I reached out to grab her arm as gently as I was capable of, cursing myself for being such a damned idiot. She probably thought that I was a complete jerk, an opinion that most people who knew me would agree with, but that didn't mean that I was content with the idea of her thinking of me that way.

"Hey, don't go," I said, reluctantly releasing her arm, knowing instinctively that she wouldn't respond well to being held in place. "I was just distracted there for a minute, I wasn't trying to be rude."

I wouldn't have been surprised if she had turned and made her way to the house the moment I released her, so it was pleasing to me that she stood her ground and heard me out. I'd never really been one for apologizing, at least not where heartfelt contrition was concerned, so the words that I meant to convey my regret sounded pretty weak, and I hoped that she would see past them, to the feelings beneath...that I didn't ever want to hurt her...not in the least.

"Chicken sandwiches sound great," I continued, my stomach grumbling as I thought about the baked chicken that she'd made the night before. "I just hope that there's enough for everyone else after I've had about five or six."

I'd been doing my best to wrangle a smile out of her and I wasn't disappointed. It wasn't the biggest or brightest smile that I'd seen on her face, but it was a hell of a lot better than the frown that had been on her lips. It was strange to find myself acting this way, me, the one guy who'd never really given a damn if I hurt someone's feelings or not...I guess there was a lot of truth in what the guys had said about imprinting and how it changed your entire outlook on life.

"You'll have to go kind of easy on the chicken," she answered in a voice that I would swear had that smile inside of it. "There wasn't much left over but there's potato salad to go with it and lemonade...and brownies for dessert."

I normally wasn't all that impressed with potato salad, but I had a pretty good idea that hers would be delicious. Lemonade was a definite plus, it was one of my favorites and then there was the cherry on top of everything...homemade freakin' brownies...it made my mouth water just to think of it...that and the fact that a burst of cool air swirled around us and made her nipples tighten beneath her shirt. I was a jerk for even noticing that, but it was kind of hard to ignore.

"I can hardly wait," I answered, my mind mainly on the hardened points beneath her shirt, and how they'd feel and taste in my mouth, and to a lesser degree on the culinary delights waiting for me in Mary's house. I knew that I had to do my best to act like a gentleman...a foreign and scary concept for me...if I wanted her to give me a chance and I was determined to stick to the plan...I could only hope that I was capable of controlling myself 'til then.

Lilah's POV

I don't know why, but I thought to myself that I could be content just to sit and watch him eat for hours at a time, he was that fascinating. I don't know why his appetite should be captivating to me, as a matter of fact, it should have turned my stomach to witness such gluttony, but there was something satisfying in watching a man who'd been working hard all morning, well, the past week, really, sit at a table and throw back sandwich after sandwich, along with a mountain of potato salad, chugging it all down with a gallon of lemonade.

For the life of me, I couldn't figure out how he did it, how he managed to consume so many calories and keep that body of his, the one I found myself admiring more than I should. Of course, his fitness could be attributed to the fact that he was always doing something physical, but still, I didn't think that he was that active, not enough to work off all that he ate, so how did he do it?

I also wasn't sure why he always worked in nothing more than a pair of denim cutoffs, when the temperature outside had been in the mid to high forties all week. He should have been freezing, but I'd watched him...more times than I cared to admit to...and he'd never seemed bothered by the bite in the air. As a matter of fact, he never seemed to even notice that it was chilly, and the few times that his skin had brushed mine, whether accidentally or purposefully, I didn't know, he had felt like he was on fire, making me think that he was running a fever, but I realized now that was just his normal body temperature...though it seemed very abnormal to me.

"Did I drop something on my face, or are you staring for some other reason?" he asked, turning to grin at me as he swallowed a brownie in two bites, and it was my skin that was red-hot then, from the intense blush that I felt take hold of my face. I couldn't believe that I'd allowed him to catch me watching him. I did so very often, watch him, that was, but I always took care to do so subtly. It was a habit that was infuriating to me, as a matter of fact; that I was allowing myself to become so fascinated with this man, and now it was even worse, because he'd caught me at it. What alarmed me the most was the fact that maybe he hadn't just caught me at it at that moment; maybe he'd always been aware of my staring and had just waited 'til this moment to mention it.

"Hey now, don't be upset," he whispered, dropping his third brownie to slide his hand across the table, hesitating for just a moment, then rubbing his calloused fingertips gently across the top of my fingers. "I was just teasing, you know, I didn't mean to make you self-conscious."

He was watching me so intently, with such a look of genuine concern on his face that I instantly felt better. It was so odd, considering our first interaction with one another, and how I'd thought him to be so rude, that he was now so nice to me, so attentive, and I couldn't help but wonder what had fostered this change in him and I found myself speculating on foolishness such as whether or not he found me attractive, or whether or not his sudden burst of charity toward Mary had anything to do with the fact that I was staying with her. Normally I was more disciplined, but lately I'd found myself behaving in a manner reminiscent to that of a teenager, something that irritated the hell out of me.

"I know you didn't," I answered, and for some reason I turned my hand over, so that our fingertips were touching, rubbing against one another. "It's just embarrassing for me, that you caught me staring at you, like I'm some sort of stalker."

His smile started slow, almost shy, and then grew until it brightened his whole face, reminding me once more of how handsome he was. I swear...was my mind turning to mush or what? Why was I so fixated on this guy? I'd more or less sworn away from men, having never found one who was genuine or willing to go the distance, so why was I allowing myself to be so attracted to this guy, the one who probably went through women like a person with a bad head cold went through tissues?

"That wouldn't be so bad, now that I think about it, having you for my stalker, as long as I can be yours too," he said, shifting his gaze to our fingertips, which entwined as though they had a mind of their own. "But then, I'm not one who cares for competition, so I'd have to get rid of Sonny first."

Did he have to remind me of Sonny, and the fact that the weirdo had spent every waking moment leering at me? I had a respite from him when I was asleep; I made sure of that by locking my door and window and shoving a chair up underneath the doorknob. Some may have thought that I was being overly cautious, but they hadn't been in my room the first night of my visit, when Sonny had come in after everyone had gone home, after his Auntie Mary had gone to sleep, closing the door behind himself and blocking it with his body. His intentions had been clear in his eyes, that he thought I was easy, a girl who would be willing to have a little fun with him and I'd left him no with no uncertainty that he had about a snowball's chance in Hell at getting into my pants and that if he didn't leave that instant he'd find himself missing an essential part or two. Needless to say, he'd hightailed it out of my room as quickly as he was able to and to my knowledge he hadn't tried to trespass on my space again, but I wasn't taking any chances. He hadn't, however, felt the need to cease his gawking and even now, with Paul sitting next to me, he maintained his constant gaping, though I was heartened by the look on his face, the one that spoke of his displeasure, as he took note of the moment that was passing between Paul and me.

"I take offense to the term stalker," I answered, running my fingertip down his hand, tracing the calluses on his palm, some old and some new. "And I can guarantee you that I wouldn't be heartbroken if you were to incapacitate him in some way, though I'd ask that you not cause him any personal harm, for Mary's sake, you know?"

I slowly became aware of how quiet the room had become, and of the fact that though it had felt as though Paul and I were alone, the truth was that we had an audience. Both Sonny and Mary were watching us intently, were staring at me, then at Paul, then back to our hands, where my fingers were exploring the rough spots on his flesh. I felt my blush return with a vengeance, but when I would have moved away from him he stopped me, gripping my hand firmly, but gently.

"What would you say if I was to ask you to go out with me tomorrow night, maybe to get something to eat, then go to see a movie?" he asked, running his thumb in a caress back and forth over my palm. "Because if your answer would be yes, then I'm asking you right now, and if it's no, then we'll say that I'm not asking right now...we'll just say that I'm thinking about it, because I want to ask you."

I tried not to laugh out loud, which resulted in me snorting instead, which made him laugh as well. I had never met anyone like him before, and even if I had, I surely wouldn't have liked him, let alone thought that would like me, but I did like him and I was pretty sure, especially now, that he liked me. It would be nice to get out and have some fun, and be saved the chore of cooking for one night. I knew that I'd come to visit to help Mary, but I hadn't anticipated that I would be cooking three times a day, and it would be nice to sit down to a meal that I hadn't slaved over.

"I'd like that," I answered, pleased when his smile returned full force, having been replaced by a look that said that he expected me to shoot him down. "What time should I be ready?"