“You should.” I want to kiss her. Right here. Pull her onto the table and taste her mouth, tell her everything. “This is the best meal of my life.”

North glances away as though he’s fighting not to laugh at me too. But Ronan, who I’m liking more and more, sits back and nods. “I have to agree with Macon. I am honestly stunned here. This menu isn’t pretentious or showy, but that’s the point. I’m not trying to figure out what I’m eating but simply enjoying every bite and wondering how it is that I never realized how good these simple ingredients were.”

She blushes prettily. For him. “Thank you. There’s dessert.”

With that, they bring out individual pies. Banana cream pie with bitter chocolate. I manage one bite of what is the best pie I’ve ever had, all lush cream and sweetness, a bite of Delilah incarnate, the intense, hot richness of the chocolate pushing its way almost rudely into all that, just like I did. Sex and salvation on a plate. I can’t take it anymore.

My fork hits the plate with a clatter, my breath unsteady. Blood rushes through my ears, and I push back from the table. “Excuse us for a moment.” I take hold of Delilah’s hand and pull her up with me. “We’ll be right back.”

Then I get us the hell out of the room before I make a greater fool of myself.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Delilah

“Macon,” I hiss as soon as we’re out of the dining room. “What in the great hell is wrong with you?”

He’s been acting strange the entire meal, unfocused and not saying a damn word to anyone. Frankly, it has pissed me off and hurt in ways I wasn’t prepared for.

He doesn’t answer but tugs me along with brisk steps, forcing me to clatter after him in my high heels. I follow willingly because I’m not about to make a scene. Too bad he’s already done that. Another burst of rage hits hot as fire. How dare he act like this now of all times? It was the ultimate bait and switch.

“Are you high?” It’s a struggle to keep my voice down. “Seriously, did you take some sort of drug before dinner?”

He stops and backs me into the shadowed alcove at the end of the hall stairs. “I know I’m out of line. I . . .” He runs a hand through his hair hard enough for the dark ends to stick up wildly. “I had to talk . . . I couldn’t sit there anymore and not say something . . . fuck.”

I realize what a good actor Macon can be. Until now he’s appeared so placid, a cool lake with hardly a ripple of emotion showing. He isn’t placid now. And he isn’t cool and collected. He’s weirdly unhinged.