“Just the check, please,” he tells her. She reaches into her pocket and produces the check, handing it to Deacon.
“How much is it?” I reach for my purse and pull out my wallet.
“What are you doing?” he asks incredulously.
“Paying for my part of dinner.”
He points his index finger at me, furrowing his brow. “Never with me. Put that away.” He points at my wallet as if it’s a snake or something. I match his stare, furrowing my brow at his demand. “Please,” he adds, his tone lighter.
“Deacon-” I start, but he gives me a look that tells me this isn’t up for negotiation.
I never want to be dependent on a man or anyone really ever again. I don’t expect him to pay for me, but it’s obvious he wants to. He’s not being mean about it, more like I’ve offended him by even offering. There were times in my past when I was expected to pick up the check. Granted it was my father’s money, but still, this is just different for me. I put my wallet back into my purse. “Thank you for dinner,” I tell him. He nods, and the scowl is gone with my acceptance of him paying for our meal. I make a mental note that if I ever get the chance to have dinner with him again, I’ll slip away to the bathroom and pay the bill before he has a chance to.
We exit the restaurant the same way we entered, with Deacon’s hand on the small of my back, guiding me. He opens my door for me and helps me into his truck, and my heart quickens in my chest.
I have a crush on Deacon Setty, and I don’t know what to do with that.
eight
Deacon
It’s been four very long days since I’ve seen Ramsey. At least seen her in person. She’s on my mind every day, all day, and at night when I’m home alone, she’s there too. She’s there when I close my eyes and try to sleep. She’s just… there—all the time. I can’t stop thinking about her. I have somehow managed to get some work done after our dinner date Monday night. However, like a toddler, I had to make a deal with myself. I had a brief to review and two sets of adoption papers to be filed, as well as a handful of wills and trusts to work on.
I told myself that if I got through all of it, I could reward myself with dinner Friday night at the Willow Tavern. I’m basically rewarding myself with Ramsey. The self-motivation worked because it’s just after eight on Friday night, and I’m leaving the office with my to-do list much smaller than it was late Monday night when I made a deal with myself. I managed to get everything on my bargaining list done and then some. I call that a win.
I don’t waste time by going home to change out of my suit. Instead, I drive straight to the Willow Tavern. I drive straight to Ramsey. Pulling into the lot, I see that the crowd is not what it was last Saturday night, and I’m grateful. Maybe I’ll be able to do more than see her. Maybe she can take a break and eat with me or at least have a conversation.
Pulling open the door, I’m hit with the low hum of Lee Brice as I make my way to the bar. I know she never waitresses, so the bar is where I need to be. Feeling as though luck is on my side, there’s an open stool at the very end of the bar. The same end that Ramsey is currently working. Picking up my pace, I snag the stool, removing my suit jacket and hanging it on the back.
“What can I-” She looks up, and a slow smile greets me. “Deacon. Hi.”
“Ramsey,” I greet her with a gruff voice.
“What brings you by?” She places a napkin on the bar in front of me.
You. “Dinner.”
“Let me grab you a menu.” She stretches her arm out to grab a menu, and my eyes go to her belly, where her Willow Tavern T-shirt rides up just a little. My mouth waters at the sight. “Here you go.” She places the menu in front of me. “Can I get you something to drink while you decide?”
“Sure, uh, water is fine for now.”
She smiles, and it makes me want to lean over this bar and kiss the hell out of her. “Coming right up.” She walks away to grab my water while I realize I’m sitting at a bar ordering food and water just to get a glimpse of her. That’s how far I’ve fallen where Ramsey is concerned. I know it’s wrong, but fuck if I can find it in me to care. She’s consuming my thoughts. I had to see her.
“Here you go. Just wave me down when you’re ready to order.” She places my water in front of me and skips off down the bar to fill orders. I pretend to be looking at the menu when really my eyes are trained on her. That’s how I know she keeps glancing my way. I smile at her when our eyes connect, and I’m satisfied to see her lips tick up in a grin as she serves her customer.
“Ready to order?” she asks, making her way toward me.
I look up from where I’ve been forcing myself to read the menu. “Cheeseburger deluxe and fries.”
“Anything else to drink?”
“Nah, water’s fine.”
“I’ll go put this in for you.” She turns on her heel, and I watch her and her ass in those jeans as she disappears behind the swinging doors to the kitchen.
“Well, if it isn’t, Deacon Setty. It’s been a long time,” Sarah Sanders, a girl I graduated with, says, moving to sit on the stool next to mine.
“Sarah.” I nod, barely sparing her a glance. Sarah has been married three times and is, I’m sure, looking for husband number four, and I’m not interested. I am not even tempted to dip my dick where so many before me have gone.
“You should let me buy you a drink.” She places her hand on my arm, which is followed by her moving in close and rubbing her tits there too.
“No thanks.”
“Come on,” she coos. I think it’s meant to be sexy, but it’s anything but. “We’re both single. What’s the harm?” She runs her pointed blood-red fake fingernail down my arm, and I shiver at the contact. Not because it turns me on, but because she keeps fucking touching me. There is no part of me that’s even remotely attracted to Sarah.
“I’m not single,” I blurt.
“Oh, really? Who’s the lucky girl?”
“I am.” Ramsey's sweet voice wraps around me, and it takes me a few seconds to comprehend what she just said.
Slowly, I turn my head to look at her. She’s glaring at Sarah and her hand that still rests on my arm. I watch as she forces herself to look away and lay eyes on me. There’s something in her expression I can’t name, but it has me opening my mouth to agree with her.
“Hey, babe,” I reply gruffly. This time I’m watching closely as her eyes soften and her body relaxes. Was she afraid I was going to reject her?
“You expect me to believe that you’re with her?” Sarah asks. “Isn’t she like best friends with your sister and way too young for you?” Sarah sneers.
“She’s Palmer's best friend, and her age is of no relevance when it comes to being able to hold my attention. She has all of it. All the time.”
“So you’re robbing the cradle?” Sarah laughs humorlessly.
“In case you missed it, I’m a grown woman who is, in fact, old enough to serve you the drink you’re holding. Which also means I can make my own decisions, and I can kick your ass out of this bar.”