“Yeah…me too,” Deacon said.
“Can I buy this?”
“You don’t have—”
“I want to. It’s important to me.”
Deacon hesitated a moment, then gave a slow nod. “All right. When you come by Sundae’s Best, ice cream is on me.”
Grady paid the bill, making sure to leave a hefty tip for the waitress who’d had to deal with them for so long. Then they walked out together, and Grady found himself bummed that the meal was over. He hadn’t been lying. He really had enjoyed talking with Deacon. There was something calming about him. Something that eased Grady’s loneliness and made him feel comfortable. It hadn’t been like they’d just met or met under strange circumstances.
Deacon rubbed a hand over his head. “Well, thanks again. Guess I’ll see you around.”
“Sure will. I was promised ice cream,” he teased. “Thanks again for doing this.”
Deacon waved that off, gave him a small, almost sad smile, and walked away.
Grady sighed, feeling out of sorts for some reason, and headed to his vehicle.
Chapter 6
Deacon
It had been three days since he had breakfast with Grady.
If he was being honest, he was still confused about the whole thing. Or maybe confused wasn’t the right word, not for all of it, but he couldn’t wrap his brain around what happened.
Patricia had been right about Nathan.
And now Nathan’s good friend—the man he’d lived with, and grown with, and trusted with pieces of himself he’d never shared with his family, the man he’d cared about and who still mourned the loss of Nathan in similar ways as Deacon did Patricia—had moved to Everett, and Deacon had spent hours talking to him.
He liked Grady. Felt a connection to him he was still trying to figure out.
And damned if he wasn’t obsessing over him too. He’d had his brain on the man for three days, and it was driving him out of his fool mind.
Why hadn’t Grady stopped by?
Why did Deacon care?
Christ, he was a mess.
He shook his head and got back to work. He was making ice cream today. Depending on the season, he spent one to two days a week getting them stocked up. They kept containers in the freezer, of course, always had extra on hand, but during the winter months, he was mostly able to limit it to the single day, while he always needed more when it was warmer.
He hadn’t worked out the pecan flavor yet, nor what he wanted to do for the winter season, but he’d been thinking on it a lot.
He stuck to the familiar for now, mixing ingredients and putting them into his ice cream machines without much thought. He’d done this so many times; it was like brushing his teeth or getting out of bed in the morning. Everything was reflex, instinct, and muscle memory, and he lost himself in the task at hand, with only the occasional distraction when his employees came to ask him a question or get his help.
He mostly did a good job of making himself shove thoughts of Grady to the back of his mind, but then it had felt so good to sit with him, to laugh and talk and, hell, almost forget to be sad. That part had him clenching up, guilt ripping through him, because how could he forget to be sad about Patricia? But it had been so oddly refreshing to talk to someone new, someone who seemed to get him.
He’d just finished work for the day when Olivia stuck her head into the open freezer, where he was putting containers of ice cream away. “Hey, Deke, there’s a man here looking for you. His name is Grady.”
He grinned because it was always a thing of beauty to see someone taste his creations for the first time. “Thanks, Liv. I’ll be right out.”
There was a jump in his pulse as he hurried through getting everything put away. He enjoyed trying to figure out what flavor someone might choose. Would Grady be safe and go for a chocolate or vanilla? Or were his tastes toward something more unique?
He closed the freezer and took off the thick gloves that kept his hands warm. He was wearing a hoodie, which he kept on as he headed to the front. A group of people were just walking out, so Grady was currently the only customer. He looked up, as if sensing Deacon coming in, and smiled.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna come,” Deacon said, then wondered if that sounded strange. As if he’d been sitting around waiting and wondering when Grady would make an appearance, which he clearly had.
He shook his shaggy hair off his forehead. There was a small scar by Grady’s top lip. “I was a little worried that if I did, you’d file a restraining order against me.” He laughed. “I didn’t want to be that creepy guy. You already thought I was following you.”
Yeah, he had, but they’d… Hell, it felt like they’d become friends the other day. Grady was obviously joking about the stalker thing, but Deacon was shocked that after one conversation, he felt like Grady was his friend. It wasn’t as if Deacon was a rude man or anything, but he didn’t typically connect with people so easily. Especially not after losing Patricia.
“Why do you look weird all of a sudden?” Grady asked.
“How do I look weird?” And now he was letting his thoughts show on his face. Great.
“Your face was all scrunched up. Like you were sucking on a lemon.”
Well, shit. He hadn’t meant for that to happen. “I like lemons.”
“Okay…”
“That means my face doesn’t scrunch up when I eat them.” What the fuck was he doing? He couldn’t figure out why he’d even said that. They were joking around and going back and forth as if they were long-lost buddies or something. He glanced over and noticed Olivia watching him. She turned quickly, as if she didn’t want to get caught. “So…ice cream?”
Grady gave him a slightly startled look, clearly surprised by the quick change of subject, but didn’t mention it. He walked over to the freezer. “I don’t know what to choose. You really make all this yourself?”
Deacon’s eyes darted over to see Olivia sweeping. It shouldn’t matter, but he was thankful she wasn’t paying attention to them. “I do.” He’d always been ridiculously proud of that.
“What’s your favorite?” Grady asked.
“Nope. That’s cheating. Not gonna tell you.”
Grady gave an exaggerated sigh. “You don’t play fair. Okay. Hmm…I’m not gonna choose a safe option. I’m a chocolate fanatic, so I’m not choosing anything with that in it.” He was quiet for a moment while he continued to look through the glass at each container. “Coconut Cream Pie is too simple… Oh shit. Not in a bad way.”
Deacon chuckled. “I knew what you meant. You’re taking this very seriously.”
“Shh. I’m concentrating.”
Again, he smiled, feeling inexplicably…light. Like he didn’t have concrete in his bones, the way he often felt.
“Okay…got it. I want two scoops. I’ll have cinnamon toast and the gingerbread nut cluster.”
“Solid choices, I must say.” Deacon washed his hands, then grabbed a bowl and an ice cream scoop. “You can tell a lot about a person from the flavor of ice cream they choose.”