“Deacon?” She waits for me to give her my attention. “You’re really going to hang pictures of us in your house?”
I shrug. “Why not? We’re dating.”
“Dating, Deacon.” She shakes her head as if I’ve lost my mind.
Maybe I have.
“Am I not allowed to have a picture of the girl I’m dating in my home?”
“This is so new.”
“But it feels right.”
“What if it jinxes us?”
“Are you worried about that?” I ask her. She shrugs, and when I start to tell her I need her words, she gives them to me freely before I can.
“Maybe. I don’t know. I know you’re unlike any man I’ve ever met, excluding Uncle Raymond and my cousins. I know I think about you before I go to sleep and again when I open my eyes each morning. I know that being with you causes butterflies to flutter here.” She places her hand over her stomach.
“Okay.” I can give her this. Easily. “I won’t make enlargements yet. However, I am getting copies of all of them.”
Another smile and shake of her head. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Kiss me.” My body leans into hers, and she dutifully presses her lips to mine. I go back to the ground beef, and she keeps me company. Fifteen minutes later, and with a mess on the counter, the lasagna is in the oven.
I grab two bottles of water and lead her outside to the patio. This is my normal routine, to sit outside and relax after a long day. She barely has her ass in the chair next to me, and I already know it’s better with Ramsey.
I have a feeling life and everything in it is better with Ramsey.
fifteen
Ramsey
I feel him before I see him. It sounds creepy as hell, but it’s the truth. It’s been four weeks and a handful of days since our first official date. Since then, we’ve been inseparable. Monday and Tuesday nights are my only evenings off, and I spend them with Deacon. We’re either at his place or mine, and sometimes we venture out, but mostly, we both prefer to stay in. Palmer jokes that we’re already an old married couple, and I don’t hate it.
In fact, I love it. I enjoy spending time with him and he with me. He’s such a great guy, and with each passing day, I fall a little more than the day before. Deacon Setty is just one of those guys who’s the total package. He’s charming, handsome, sexy, and yes, they both are worth mentioning. He’s got a great job, owns his own home, loves his family, and he wants to be with me.
Some days it still feels as if I’m dreaming.
“Yo, Ramsey, your man is here,” my coworker, Tabitha, calls out.
I nod and continue to fill the order I’m working on. Two Sex on the Beach mixed drinks for girls my age, according to their IDs I just made them present. After I cash them out, I allow myself to let my eyes search for him.
I don’t have to look long. He’s sitting at the very far end of the bar. The same seat that he always occupies when he’s here. He eats dinner here most nights that I’m working, and if he’s not eating here, he’s bringing me dinner. From the looks of the container set on the bar, I’m guessing tonight is one of those nights.
“Hey, handsome,” I greet him. I want to lean over the bar and press my lips to his, but I refrain. Hank is a cool boss, but it’s unprofessional and immature. I already have our ages working against us. I don’t need to add fuel to the fire. We’ve had a few odd looks when we’ve been out around town, but neither one of us seem to care. I was worried about my aunt and uncle and Deacon’s parents, but they all seem fine with it. We’ve not been together with our families as a couple, but Deacon grew up here and is best friends with Orrin, so my family knows him and his family and vice versa. I have met Deacon’s parents and his other sister with Palmer, but not as Deacon’s… whatever I am. We’re dating, and it’s glorious, and I’m fine with not putting a label on it.
“Darlin’,” he drawls. “How is your night going?”
“So far so good. How about yours?”
“Boring without you. I made chicken stir-fry for dinner.” He slides the container toward me. “Have you taken your break yet?”
“It’s time,” Hank says, sliding up next to me. He offers Deacon his hand, and they shake. “Thirty minutes, Ramsey. Not one-second sooner.” He gives me a warning look that holds no heat whatsoever.
“This should still be warm.” Deacon grasps the container he just pushed toward me. “Let’s go sit outside while you eat.”
“Let me get a drink.” Reaching into the cooler, I grab a bottle of water and walk toward the opposite end of the bar, where Deacon is waiting for me. “Oh, I need something to eat this with,” I say. Rushing back around the bar, I grab a plastic cutlery set. When I make it back to where Deacon is standing, he offers me his hand, and I don’t hesitate to take it.
Hand in hand, he leads me to his truck. Dropping the tailgate, he sets the container down and then lifts me to sit, stepping between my legs. His hands frame my face as he kisses me as if today could be our last. “I missed you,” he says, dropping his hands and reaching for the container. He pulls off the lid, snatches the utensils, opens them with ease one-handedly, and forks up a bite, feeding it to me.
“So good,” I say, covering my mouth with my palm.
“I’m glad you like it. I made way too much, so we’ll have this to eat tomorrow too.”
“I thought you had to help your dad move stuff around in the garage tomorrow?” I ask before opening my mouth to accept another bite.
“I do. I told him I would be over later after you go to work. I only get you two nights a week and two days. I’m not taking our time away.”
“He’s your dad.”
Deacon shrugs. “He understands,” he says, offering me another bite.
“You can’t just put your life on hold because of my work schedule.”
“Watch me.”
I take the container from his hands and place it next to me on the tailgate. “What’s going on?” I lock my arms around his neck. In turn, he wraps his arms around my waist, locking his hands at the small of my back.
“I miss you. Don’t mind me. I’m cranky.”
“You see me all the time.”
“No. I see you four days a week. That’s not enough for me. I get glimpses of you Wednesday thru Friday, and a few hours each day on Saturday and Sunday, and the same Monday and Tuesday nights, if you don’t have a later catering gig.”
“I’ve been turning them down.”
“What?”
“I’m just a part-time, as-needed employee for At Your Service Catering. After that one Tuesday night that I had to cancel on you, I’ve been turning down any jobs that are going to have me working after five. This,” I point to the Tavern behind us,“is my main job.”
“I know you enjoy working here, and I would never ask you to quit for me, but I miss you. I dread the middle of the week because I know I’m only going to see you while I’m here eating or not at all.”
“I’m sorry.” I hug him closer.