My feet are killing me. I finish wiping down the counters and toss the rag into the dirty bin in the supply closet. Once in the small break room, I grab my purse and pull out my Mace. One of the guys always stays to walk us out, and Hank makes sure the parking lot is well lit, but you just never know. Willow River is a quiet small town, but my past is always lingering in the back of my mind that people aren’t always what they seem.
“You ready?” Chance asks.
“I’ve been ready. I’m exhausted.”
“Tabitha, you ready?” Chance asks.
“Yes.” She smiles and joins us.
“Hank?” Chance asks.
“I’m just going to sleep upstairs tonight,” he tells us. “I have a new vendor coming early in the morning to meet with me, and it’s just easier to stay here.”
“All right, man. See ya.” Chance waves, as do Tabitha and I, as we follow him out the door.
“Who’s that?” Tabitha asks.
I turn to follow her gaze, and my heart stops.
“Deacon,” I whisper.
“You good?” Chance asks me.
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“I am.” I smile at him, hoping he can’t see the tremble in my smile. I know, or at least I think I know, that Deacon would never hurt me, but being alone with him in a dark parking lot isn’t exactly a smart move.
“Hi,” I say, breaking away from my coworkers and slowly approaching him. He’s leaning against the side of his truck that’s parked next to my car. “What are you doing here?” I ask him with a quivering voice.
“I left a couple of hours ago,” he confesses. “Then I got home and started thinking about you getting off work late and walking out alone, and well,” he shrugs, “here I am.”
“One of the guys always walks us out,” I tell him. “And I have this.” I raise my Mace to show him.
He nods. “Good. That’s good.”
I take a step closer. “You were worried about me?”
“Yeah,” he says, running a hand through his hair.
“I’m good.”
He stands from where he’s leaning against his truck and takes a step toward me, bringing us toe-to-toe. “Can I touch you, Ramsey?”
My breath stalls in my lungs, making speech impossible, so I nod.
Lifting his hand, he tucks my hair behind my ear before letting his index finger trace my jaw. “I had to make sure,” he whispers in a gravelly voice.
“You good, Ramsey?” Chance calls out.
His voice breaks our trance, and Deacon drops his hand. I turn to look at Chance. “Everything is fine. Thank you for walking me out. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Chance studies us for a few minutes before climbing into his car but doesn’t drive away.
“He’s not going to leave until I do.”
“Is he your boyfriend?” Deacon asks with more edge to his voice than I’ve yet to hear from him. It’s not mean, just… disapproving maybe.
“No. Just a good guy. Hank, my boss, insists that one of the guys is with us girls, and they stay until we drive off. They’re good people.”
“That’s good to hear. You better get going.” He steps next to me, places his hand on the small of my back, and leads me the few final steps to my car door. I unlock the door and toss my purse inside.
“Thank you for checking on me.”
“I’m going to lean in close,” he tells me. I nod, and he leans in, pressing his lips to my cheek. “Drive safe, darlin’.”
The blood is rushing through my ears, making it hard to hear anything but the thunderous rhythm. “Night, Deacon.” I settle behind the wheel. He waits until I’ve fastened my seat belt before he closes the door and taps twice on my hood.
My hands shake as I start the car and put it into gear. Slowly, my foot presses against the accelerator, and I pull out of the lot. I think about Deacon the entire way back to my apartment. I don’t know what tonight was. I’m so damn confused, but I can admit, even if it’s just to myself, that his attention isn’t unpleasant. Deacon seems like a nice guy. He’s gorgeous and off-limits. He’s my best friend’s older brother, and if my cousin’s reaction tonight is any indication, he’s not impressed with the mere thought of something happening between his best friend and me.
six
Deacon
This has been one of the longest days of my life. I didn’t sleep for shit all weekend, and my concentration, it’s vanished in the face of a blue-eyed angel named Ramsey. It’s Monday evening, and I’m still at work because I can’t stop thinking about her long enough to get my shit together and get through this brief. I’ve been working on it since Saturday, the day I met her and the day she infiltrated my mind without permission.
Thankfully, the office was mostly quiet today, and my bosses were too busy with their own caseload to recognize that I’m not on my game. I’m never not on my game.