Bringing Delaney Home (Cates Brothers #1) (20 page)

“Appreciate it.” Quinn nodded and exchanged phone numbers with him. He and Greer stood on the sidewalk as the scratched and sun-faded rental car tossed gravel on its way out of the lot.

Chapter Nineteen

“M
ama Cates, I appreciate your help, but I’m not a shopper. I don’t have a clue about fashion or coordinating. To be honest, what I wear isn’t a top priority right now.”

“And that’s fine, Delaney. That’s where I come in. Your job today is to relax. You don’t need to know how to shop or coordinate. I’ve got that covered. And with all the boys I’ve raised it’ll be a real treat for me to shop for a girl.”

“Well, about that . . . I don’t do pink. Or ruffles. Or big jewelry. Or makeup. Obviously, high heels are out. And miniskirts. No girly-girl clothes.” Delaney’s list practically begged Mama Cates to wave the white flag and give up.

Mama Cates laughed and patted Delaney’s hand. “Relax. We can work around all of that—and anything else you come up with. Don’t let the shopping stress you. I promise we’ll make it quick. No more than one hour.”

“Okay, yeah. I’ve marched for an hour in over hundred-degree weather in the desert.” Delaney nodded her head. “I can make it through an hour of shopping.”

“And then we’ll pamper ourselves,” Mama Cates added.

Delaney held back her moan and eye roll. Barely. “Pamper how?”

“Haircuts, facials, manicures. Oh, now don’t groan. You might even have fun.”

Delaney let out a big sigh. She doubted she’d have fun, but she did appreciate how sweet it was for Quinn’s mother to take her shopping. Awkward, but sweet. She could try not to be a pain in the ass for two hours, right? “I can do this. For the next hour, I was born to shop. I am a shopping machine.”

Mama Cates laughed as she pulled into the parking spot. “Delaney, love, you sound like you’re talking yourself into a dangerous task. I know you mean well, but when we’re in Macy’s, you and I will battle over clothes. It’s only fair to warn you, I’m a wily tactician and I will win.”

Forty-five minutes later, Delaney was ready to surrender. Mama Cates took shopping seriously, with a capital S. She was so sweet the salespeople in Macy’s happily became her willing accomplices.

Delaney was hunkered down in a dressing room while clothes magically appeared over and under the door. Jeans, tops, blouses, dress pants, bras, workout clothes . . . slinky nightgowns?

“Mama C—I don’t need more workout clothes,” Delaney called over the door.

“That set of baggy sweats you’re wearing would fit Quinlan. Trust me. You need new workout clothes.”

“I don’t need slinky nightgowns.”

“Every woman needs slinky nightgowns.”

“I at least want to pick out my own underwear.”

“Of course you can help, dear.”

Delaney looked at the time, hoping the hour was up. Fifteen minutes to go? Didn’t Mama Cates realize this was cruel and unusual punishment? “Mama C? Why do I need a pair of black satin dress pants? And this slippery aqua top thingy?”

“Every woman needs sexy date-night outfits,” Mama Cates assured her.

“I don’t. I really don’t.” Delaney looked dispassionately at the reflection of the satin pants softly moving with her body.

“What about the bachelorette auction coming up? You and I both know it’s for a great cause. You’ll have to attend that.”

“What? No, I don’t think—”

“Delaney, the auction is to raise money for the children of fallen police officers. Think of the children. You need the evening outfit.”

Sitting down on the small corner seat, struggling in frustration to get another pair of pants off, Delaney gave up and let her head drop against the mirror. “Mama Cates?” she called in a weak, demoralized voice. “This is me surrendering. I’m done. I can’t try on any more. And . . . and my leg is starting to hurt real bad.” Delaney made a face at herself in the mirror, knowing she was exaggerating and only feeling a little bad about it.

“So, we’re done. We’ll just peek at the underclothes on our way to the cashier. Then it’s on to the pampering, where you can rest up your leg before we trudge out to the car with our heavy bags. I’m sure we could rent a wheelchair from the information kiosk if the rest doesn’t help.”

“Damn it. How did you know?” Delaney asked, feeling no shame, just outmaneuvered as she slipped her baggy sweats back on with a sigh of relief.

“I can smell a fib when I hear it,” Mama Cates said. “You get points for trying, but I’m the mother of five boys and believe me when I tell you I’ve heard them all.”

Delaney opened the door of the dressing room in sagging relief. She gathered up the clothes Mama Cates had decreed she needed and headed out, limping a little more than when she had gone in. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re doing for me here, Mama C. I do. I just hate shopping. Always have. I hated it before I lost my foot, but now it’s just another reminder of how much my life has changed. It’s hard to accept.”

“Well, Delaney, having watched you grow up, I’d have to say you’re one of the strongest people I know. You’re smart, too. Too smart to think the pity angle will get you out of the one hour of pampering.”

“Damn it, Mama Cates.” Delaney gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Was the extra limp too much? Should I have teared up? You’re a stubborn woman, Mama C. Now I know where Quinn gets it from.”

Mama Cates laughed, wrapping one arm around Delaney’s waist. “I like you, Delaney Lyons. Greer’s sugar and you’re spice. I admire the way you dare people to like you as you are. No games. No pretending. It’s refreshing. Now, you have five minutes to grab some underthings or you’ll be stuck with all the thongs and push-up bras Quinlan bribed me to get for you.”

“What? Mama C! Why would you fall for bribery when pity and outright lies didn’t work?”

“Well, he offered to paint my foyer and living room, which I haven’t gotten his father to do no matter how many pairs of thongs I parade in front of the man,” Mama Cates said. “Now, don’t give me that look. The foyer is a two-story. Besides, I said I’d buy them. Nobody said you had to wear them. Go grab something quick. We have appointments at Leon’s Salon around the corner in five minutes. The works.”

Delaney didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as she limped over to the ladies’ Jockey display. The works? That sounded painful.

“Delaney, hot pink or tangerine? Cheetah or leopard?” Mama Cates held the brightly colored thongs up for Delaney to see. “No, you don’t strike me as an animal-print girl. We’ll go with the bright solid colors.”

“Thongs my ass,” Delaney mumbled. She grabbed a package of white ribbed tank tops and a pack each of boy short and bikini low-rise panties. “White cotton and I’ll paint the two-story foyer myself.”

Leon’s Salon was a vibrant, busy place. The black and white zebra-striped front door opened onto a modern foyer with sleek couches and neon acrylic coffee tables. A bright, busy beehive of noise, color, and customers. It was too much of everything after this morning’s panic attack, so Delaney was relieved when an elegant woman with a precisely cut platinum bob came over and air-kissed Mama Cates’s cheeks.

“Zeena, you’re a sweetheart to fit us in. This is my friend Delaney.”

“Nice to meet you, Delaney. Mrs. C, I will always find room in my schedule for you. Come on back.” Zeena led them down a hallway aglow with fluorescent lights into an all black and white room filled with mirrors, shiny chrome furniture, and shelves of neon-colored beauty products. “I was hoping Quinn had driven you. I haven’t seen him since the few dates we had last year.”

“Zeena, I keep telling you my boys are hell on women. You don’t want them to mess up your life.”

“I could happily take one of them off your hands. Quinn, for instance. He can mess up my life any day of the week. Twice on Sunday if he’s wearing his police uniform.”

Delaney mentally rolled her eyes. Heck, she thought that TV show with the bachelor handing out flowers to drooling, desperate women was a joke. And instead it was Quinn’s life. Quinn was surrounded by beautiful, smart, talented women waiting breathlessly for him to pick them. Why was he wasting his time on her?

Seeing Zeena, a sexy and polished woman, wiggle her curvy hips over the idea of Quinn in his uniform made her realize what a mistake last night had been. With dawning reality, she watched the startling contrast of both their reflections in the mirror. Zeena’s luscious hips swayed as she moved gracefully around in four-inch heels and a skin-tight mini skirt while Delaney’s sweatsuit-covered body hobbled along behind her.

Why would he even look at her when women like Zeena were willing and waiting? Was it the thrill of the chase? Was it pity? It was a good thing they’d decided on a one-time fling. Because looking in the mirror without Quinn here whispering in her ear, she didn’t feel sexy at all.

Delaney plopped down into the chair Zeena’s scarlet-tipped fingers pointed to. With a few taps of her foot on a pedal, Zeena had Delaney elevated and leaned back. Delaney still wasn’t sure what “the works” was, but if Mama C could handle it, then she guessed she could too.

Zeena slathered Delaney’s face in green goo that smelled like avocados. While that ripened on her face, her hands were dipped in warm wax. Then her head, face, and hands were capped, masked, or plastic-wrapped until she felt like an unsexy mummy. She fell asleep during the scalp massage, puzzling over the many attractive, willing women Quinn had walked away from. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have wondered if Quinn was gay. But, hello Betty, did she ever know better.

Exhaustion or denial could be the only explanation for how Delaney slept through a deep facial, French manicure, shampoo, and haircut. Even the blow-dryer didn’t wake her up. It was the touch of a makeup brush being applied that had her eyes popping wide open.

“Heeey. Makeup was not a part of the deal.” Delaney tried to dodge the blush brush and twist around to the mirror to see the damage done.

“It’s like trying to get a feral cat into a bag. Stop your wiggling and whining. Nothing done today is permanent. It all washes off or grows out, and you look gorgeous. Zeena, you’ve performed art today.”

“It was a challenge, but thank you. I think she looks gorgeous too.” With one last flick of the blush brush, she spun Delaney around to face the mirror.

Delaney stared at the woman reflected there. Wow. So this was why women put up with pampering. She had to admit she looked better. Fresher. Younger. Sexier? Huh. Yet, nothing had changed drastically. Her hair was still long enough for a ponytail, but layered, giving it a tousled, just-got-out-of-bed look. Her skin was glowing. Her eyebrows delicately arched. A touch of smoky brown eyeliner along the lash line of her upper lid accentuated her light brown eyes. Her thick black eyelashes looked like those of the models on television ads. She leaned in for a closer look. “Did you put false eyelashes on me?” she asked with accusation tainting her voice.

“Nope. It’s called mascara. People have been wearing it for years, so I don’t think it’ll kill you.” Zeena stood behind the chair, finger fluffing Delaney’s hair. “Lord knows why someone so unappreciative was blessed with long, thick eyelashes like yours. I know many women who could happily murder you.”

“I seem to have that effect on people even when my eyelashes aren’t coated in gook.” Delaney batted her eyelashes in coy exaggeration at her reflection in the mirror.

“That ‘gook’ isn’t cheap and you’re buying some from me today along with eye shadow, eyeliner, blush, lip gloss, tweezers, and a diffusing blow-dryer. I predict you’ll have so many men drooling over you, you won’t be able to swing a dead cat without hitting one.”

“What is up with you ladies and cat abuse? If you’re not shoving them in bags, you’re swinging them by their tails,” Delaney said in a prim, affronted voice. Only she ruined it by adding on a growl, “Although, I know a few who could use a good hit with a dead cat. It might knock some sense into them. Or at least make me feel better.”

“Amen, sister.” Zeena raised her hands in the air in testimony. “I hope you have a hot date tonight to put my talents on display.”

“Hot date? Uh-oh. What time is it? I think I am actually running late for a date.” Delaney checked her watch as she quickly gathered the zebra-print bag of cosmetics Zeena had prepared for her. “Yeah, I’ve got to run. What do I owe you, Zeena? Mama C, your pampering is on me since you were sweet to put up with speed-shopping with me today.”

“Dear, you don’t need to do—” Mama Cates began.

Zeena stepped in and started ushering them to the front foyer, where the register was. “She wants to treat, Mama Cates. We’ll let her. If you feel guilty, you can leave me a tip too. How’s that sound? Then everyone’s happy, but mostly me.”

After Delaney paid, Zeena walked them to the door, giving them both air kisses. “Delaney, you are a walking advertisement for my work. Don’t be shy about sending people my way. Mrs. C, you feel free to send Quinn my way. Be sure to tell him Zeena said hello. Ciao.”

Delaney’s gaze lingered on the beautiful and perfect Zeena, who not only wasn’t losing her mind, she had all her limbs too. It was too easy to picture Quinn and Zeena together, a beautiful and perfect couple. She limped out to the parking lot beside Mama C, her stomach rolling like a cement mixer, rumbling with its thick, rocky slurry.

Chapter Twenty

“S
o, you and Quinn have a date?” Mama Cates asked.

“Oh, no. I have a date with um, this other guy.” Delaney glanced at Mama Cates as they arrived at the car. She hadn’t been planning to tell anyone about her running sessions with Marcus, but the look on Mama Cates’s face said she might need to change plans. Mama Cates unlocked the car silently. After putting all the shopping bags in the trunk, she slid in behind the steering wheel and sat gripping it—tightly. They both reached to secure their seat belts at the same time. Delaney froze in the tense silence.

“Delaney, I don’t mean to pry, but I feel like I’ve gotten to know you today. I like you. So, at the risk of insulting you, have you ever thought about the possibility that you create your own stress?” Mama Cates’s voice was calm and nonjudgmental, but with a sharp edge. “You just slept with Quinn, and I’ll admit he rushed you and is hard to say no to, but do you think seeing another guy is a wise choice?”