Page 74 of You Found Me
How would Rachel handle this situation?
She suppressed a snort. Rachel would glide in and command instant attention. Rachel was a diva.
It takes one to know one, she thought wryly.
But unlike Rachel, Della had learned to share the spotlight. Maybe it had taken losing everything that mattered to teach her to do it, but she could.
So she wouldn’t command attention. But did that mean she had to be quiet?
Surely not. Lucy was an actress. Used to being in front of people.
Lucy was an extravert, she decided. She wasn’t a diva, but she wasn’t a shy wallflower either, and she was looking forward to meeting Ward’s…Donovan’s…family.
The sidewalk grew so thick with people that they could barely navigate toward the door of a place with Sevens etched in red old-fashioned script along the top of one long window.
She’d seen crowds like this in New York, except this was Sunday afternoon, not Friday night, and everyone wore denim in one form or another instead of sequined cocktail dresses.
Della gave herself an inner slap on the back for how well her outfit blended in with the locals.
“Well, if it isn’t Stormy Weather rolling into town lookin’ all badass!” a bald Black man half a block away called out.
Ward pulled her to a stop. His shoulders relaxed, and if she wasn’t mistaken that was a genuine smile on his face.
Just like that, her opinion of Ward jumbled up all over again. The stoic soldier who found no joy in life vanished. In his place was a man with a friend who made his eyes light up.
She had a sudden, insane urge to kiss him. She actually gripped his hand and tugged to make him turn toward her, then realized how idiotic that was and wound up stumbling over her own feet.
Which earned her a confused glance from Ward.
“Sorry. Clumsy.” She looked away before he could see the flush she could feel coloring her cheeks.
The guy who’d caused that rare display on her warden’s face was built like an Olympic bodybuilder. His heavily tattooed arms were so big that his T-shirt strained at the seams, and his tight jeans revealed muscular legs that could do real damage in a fight. He had an easy ship-coming-into-harbor walk anda friendly, open expression. Everyone he passed called out his name in greeting.
“Maybe I should start calling you Stormy instead of Donny,” Della teased.
“You shouldn’t call me either one,” Ward said as he waved the large man over. “Brick. Good to see ya, man.”
They gave each other a half-shake, half bro-hug that caused Ward to fumble the guitar case.
“You starting a band?” Brick asked as he eyed the case.
“It’s for Mason,” Ward said.
“Interesting.” The word was loaded with innuendo Della didn’t understand. “Where the hell have you been and why haven’t you called? I gotta find out you’re in town when I see you like everybody else?”
Amusement put life into Ward’s eyes. “You’re not my wife.”
Della found herself grinning along with them.
Brick laughed. “Damn good thing. We’d be divorced.” He pointedly looked down at Ward and Della’s clasped hands. “Who’s this?”
“Basham Hudson, meet Lucy Carmichael.” Ward gave her a look filled with warning.
It was her first test.
“Good to meet ya, Lucy.” Brick held out a hand for Della to shake. “Call me Brick. Everybody does. ’Cause I’m built like a wall.”
“Got a head like one too,” Ward said.