“Hmm,” Delilah said, resting her chin in her palm. “That’s quite the predicament.”
Claire laughed again. It was a nice sound. Completely without pretense. She wasn’t playing a game here. She was just . . . cute. “You’re not going to help me out?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Well, I’d appreciate you throwing me a bone. I’m not very good at this.”
“Good at what?”
“Flirting.”
Delilah made her eyes dramatically wide. “This is you flirting?”
“Oh god,” Claire said, dropping her head into her hands.
“I’m kidding,” Delilah said, taking a sip of her bourbon. “I know exactly what’s going on here. You’re trying to recruit me for a cult. I get it.”
Claire lifted her head and laughed, eyes sparkling behind her glasses. “You got me. I’ve got the Prophet out back ready to shave your head and brand a unicorn on your ass.”
“A unicorn?”
“It’s a queer cult.”
This time Delilah laughed. “Well, in that case, sign me up.”
Claire’s lips parted, just a little. “Really? So you’re . . .”
She trailed off, waiting for Delilah to fill in the rest. Delilah leaned in until her mouth was right next to Claire’s ear, her knees brushing Claire’s hips. She smelled like a meadow, like fresh air, some delicate flower just underneath. Delilah made a show of breathing her in. Or maybe it wasn’t even a show. This woman was funny and sexy and adorably unsure of herself, and for a split second, Delilah forgot who she actually was.
“I’m very, very queer,” Delilah whispered, releasing the words slowly while her bottom lip brushed the shell of Claire’s ear. The other woman inhaled softly, the sound fluttering low in Delilah’s stomach.
Claire pulled back, her dark eyes all pupil. “That’s very good to know.”
“Isn’t it?” Delilah said.
They watched each other for a few moments while Delilah thought about how she was going to play this. The What’s your name? question was coming any moment, and she was having too much fun to ruin it with the truth. But before she could make a decision, a familiar voice cut through the country song twanging from the jukebox.
“。 . . where’s Claire? Tell me she did not get hung up babysitting Josh.”
At the sound of her name, both Claire’s and Delilah’s heads swung toward the voice. Astrid stood about ten feet away, shucking off her raincoat, no doubt Lululemon or some shit, her mouth running a mile a minute to a redhead—Iris Kelly, the final member of Astrid’s triad—who was already sitting and drinking some clear liquor.
“Oh, there’s my friend,” Claire said. Delilah just hummed, watching her stepsister pour the rest of a bottle of Syrah into what must’ve been Claire’s glass, filling it nearly to the brim.
“Easy, killer,” Delilah heard Iris say.
“She’s a little stressed,” Claire said. “She’s getting married in two weeks.”
Delilah turned to look at Claire, who was still beautifully oblivious. “Is she now?”
Claire nodded, then leaned in and whispered, “To a total douche.”
Delilah’s brows shot up. She hadn’t met Steven . . . Spencer? No, Simon. It was definitely Simon. She hadn’t even laid eyes on him, but this little tidbit of information, coming from one of Astrid’s posse, was . . . interesting.
“Really?” she asked. “How so?”
Claire shrugged. “Spencer’s just”—dammit, it was Spencer—“demanding.”
“Sounds like a match made in heaven, then.”
The words slipped out, and Claire frowned, eyes narrowing softly. Her mouth opened, but before she could say anything, Astrid’s voice split between them again.
“You will not believe what my sister did,” Astrid said, taking a long pull of wine. “Well, almost did, but still, it’s just like her to—”
Her tirade cut off as her eyes landed on Delilah.
“Wait . . .” Claire said, leaning back. Delilah watched her, could see the pieces coming together. Her pretty mouth dropped open, and her eyes went wide behind her glasses. “Oh my—”
“Delilah?” Astrid said. She stood up, wineglass still in hand. She was dressed in dark skinny jeans, a fitted white T-shirt, and a tailored black blazer that probably cost more than Delilah’s whole closet. Her blond hair was shoulder-length, shaggy bangs brushing her brows. Gold hoops hung from her ears, and a huge-ass diamond sparkled on her left hand.