“So, how many?” Palmer asks again.
“Did you get everything out of the fridge?” Deacon asks her.
“Nope. This conversation is too riveting.”
He chuckles and moves to start pulling items out of the fridge. “Ramsey, what do you like on your burger?”
“Oh, um, whatever is fine.”
He stands and pins me with his stare. “I’m going to need your words, sweetheart, and they need to be yours. Your wants, not whatever.”
My heart races. “Mayo, mustard, ketchup,” I reply. My hands are clasped together, waiting for him to tell me that it’s gross and that’s not how a lady eats. That’s for sure what my father and Robert both would have told me. Hell, they wouldn’t let me have a burger. It was salads only.
“There she is.” He winks and goes back to digging in the refrigerator. He rises with his hands full of condiments, as well as a plate of lettuce and tomato. He sets them on the counter and reaches for a plate, handing it to me. “Make yourself a plate.”
Palmer leans into me, bumping her shoulder with mine. “You’ve bewitched my brother,” she teases.
“Stop.” I shake my head at her.
“No, I’m serious. He’s being all sweet and whatnot. I’ve never seen him that way with anyone else. Not unless it was me, our sister, or our mom. What happened while I was gone?”
“Nothing.” I keep my voice low, my eyes darting to where Deacon is pulling chips out of the pantry.
“You’ve been holding out on me.” She gives me a look that tells me I’m not getting out of telling her all the details.
Thankfully, she lets it go, and the three of us sit down to eat. Palmer controls the conversation about the photo shoot, and Deacon and I agree that all the pictures are good for her to use. They’re intimate, but that’s the point of the project.
“We want you to be a success,” I tell her.
“I love you too.” She grins. “Thank you both, really. This was a better outcome than I ever could have expected. Behind the lens, I was excited, but once I started to edit them, I was elated. I can’t wait to start posting them on my social media. This shoot alone is going to boost my career. I can feel it.”
“I’m glad,” Deacon says, tossing his napkin on his now-empty plate.
“It worked out for all of us.” Palmer smirks.
“The images are great. You did a wonderful job.”
“Ah, thanks, bestie.” She grins. “What are we doing the rest of the night?” she asks me.
“I’m not sure. I’m not used to having a Saturday night off. It’s weird.”
“We can swim or watch a movie here,” Deacon suggests.
Before we can even talk about his suggestion, his phone rings. Pulling it out of his pocket, he smiles and shows me his screen. My cousin Orrin’s name pops up. “Hey, man,” Deacon greets him. He listens. “I’m not working tonight. Palmer and Ramsey are here. We’re talking about swimming or a movie.” He listens again.
I can hear Orrin’s deep voice, but I can’t make out what he’s saying.
“Hold up,” Deacon tells him. His eyes seek mine. “How do you feel about Orrin and a few of his brothers coming over to join us?”
“I vote hell yes. Those Kincaid boys are F-I-N-E,” Palmer answers, even though he was asking me.
“How do you feel about that?” I ask Deacon.
“O, I’m going to call you back.” He doesn’t wait for a reply before he ends the call and places his phone on the table. He pushes back his chair and stands, offering me his hand. “Come with me for a minute.”
I glance at Palmer, and she waves me off, encouraging me to go with him. Slowly, I stand and place my hand in his. The warmth of his skin instantly calms me. With his fingers linked with mine, he leads me down the hall and into what appears to be his home office. As soon as the door is shut, he pulls me into his arms.
“I didn’t realize it would be this hard keeping my hands off you.”
I don’t say anything back. I’m not sure what I should say. I know I want to tell him that he doesn’t have to, but I keep that to myself.
“Ramsey, tell me how you feel about Orrin and the guys coming over. I want to spend time with you, so if that’s going to make you uncomfortable, then I’ll tell them no.”
“This is your home, Deacon. I can’t make that choice for you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. This is our day. I don’t know when I’ll have you for another Saturday night, and I don’t want to waste it.” He presses a kiss on my forehead. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“What do we tell them?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean this. You holding my hand, and hugging me, and kissing me, and lifting me on and off counters.”
He smirks. “I’m taking any excuse I can to touch you.”
“They’re my family.”
“And Palmer is mine.”
I’m beating around the bush, and so is he. He wants me to say what’s on my mind. “What if they ask about it? About the touches or the looks? What do we say?”
“What do you want to say?” he asks.
“Ugh. Stop answering my questions with questions.”
“I’m sorry, I just don’t want you to choose what I want. I want you to speak your mind. Don’t worry about me and my answer. Just speak yours. I promise I’ll give you my honest truth. I want yours in return.”
“Fine.” I nod, take a deep breath, and give him what he wants. “I don’t know what we are, and I know it’s too early to put any kind of label on us in the first place. However, I don’t want to lie to them. I don’t want a relationship built on secrets and lies. I left that world, and I never want to go back.”
“I agree with you. Honesty is always the best policy. As for us, to me, there is an us. You’re the first woman to capture my attention like this in well… ever. I know it’s been a very short time, but I don’t want to see anyone but you. I don’t want to share you.” Those last five words are more of a growl, and it’s so hot.
“I would never… I’m not like that. I would only see you if that’s what we choose to do.”
“Good. So, we’re dating then. Are you good with that explanation?”
“Yes.” I don’t even have to think about my answer.
“Tell me what is okay in front of others and what’s not.”
“What do you mean?”
“Can I kiss you? Hold your hand? Hold you? What’s okay for me to do in front of other people?”
“I want you to be you.” Again, I don’t have to think about my answer. “I come from a world of fake and deception, and I left for a reason. If we’re dating, it’s to get to know each other better, and we should be us, who we are all the time for that to happen. If you feel like kissing me or holding my hand or holding me, then I want you to do it.”
“Tell me what I need to ask permission for?”
“Nothing. I’ve been around you enough that I feel as though I can trust you. You’ve proven that in the short amount of time that I’ve known you. Just maybe, try to refrain from gripping or holding my wrists, and when you touch my face, just… be gentle.”