Page 8 of The Sweet Spot

“Not sure if my email is set up yet, St. James.” He rises slowly and brushes the sand from well-worn jeans, then bends his knees and offers me his hands.

“Guess it’s time to go, huh?” I rest my hands in his big palms and let him pull me to my feet before I look up into his eyes. “Are you going to be down here for long...? Do you have to do the whole find a place to live thing? I mean, now that you’re relocating from Boston to Philly. Where are you staying? When are you moving?”

Deacon ignores my rapid-fire questions and runs both big hands over my head before he wraps one around the back of my neck and drags a rough thumb along my jaw. My body immediately slows and takes notice. “Anyone ever told you, you talk too much?”

I scrunch my face and purse my lips, like I have to think about my answer.

I don’t.

I’ve been told I talk too much for years.

When I shrug in response, he drops his hand and takes a step back.

Damn it. I’m not sure I’ve ever been so disappointed at the loss of someone’s hands on my body, and it wasn’t even like that.

“I’ve got a meeting with the Kings again tomorrow, so I’m heading back today too.”

And the other shoe dropped.

“The Kings...” I cock my head and watch him for any reaction. “You mean my mother?” I half tease, half taunt because I’m not sure how to feel about him meeting with my mother and uncle. It’s amazing how easy it was to forget who we were talking about.

He bends his knees until he’s at my eye level. “Hey... where’d you go there?”

“Just remembering you’re basically my boss,” I confess sheepishly and take a small step back.

“I’m not your boss yet.” Deacon closes the space between us, and for one single second, I think he might kiss me. He lifts his hand to my face but drops it before he touches me. “I’m in Room 210 at the Kroydon Hill Plaza. Have dinner with me tonight.”

His words wage war in my mind, but when I open my mouth to answer him, my own words get stuck in my throat.

“Don’t answer now.” He reaches his hand into my pocket and pulls out my phone, then unlocks it with my face before his fingers fly across the screen, and before I can over-analyze what just happened, he hands it back to me. “I should be home by seven tonight. You’ve got my number. You’ve got the hotel information. Use it, Brynn.”

I nod slowly and pocket my phone, then motion toward the house behind us. “That’s me.”

Deacon clenches his jaw and shoves his hand in his pocket. “Room 210, Brynn. You’ve got to eat.”

The gleam in his eye is intense as the sun casts a golden glow behind him.

“Room 210,” I whisper back before I force myself to turn around and head for my parents’ house.

I quietly let myself in and tip toe down the hall to the kitchen, expecting it to be empty. Looks like nothing is going to go my way today though. Because instead of finding an empty kitchen, Maddox is standing shirtless behind the island, twisting the cap off a bottle of water.

Fuck me.

He grins and takes a pull of water. “Looks like little red didn’t sleep in her bed.”

“Pretty sure you’re mixing up fairytales, Madman.” I maneuver around him and grab my own water from the fridge. “What are you doing up?”

“Going for a run,” he tells me, and his grin turns into a full-on ferocious smile. “And I may have needed to escort a guest out this morning. I swear to fuck, I don’t understand why women want to spend the night. Do you all really think we want to wake up next to you and watch you do the walk of shame? You won’t catch a man doing that. We get the fuck out before the sun comes up for a reason.”

“What is wrong with you?” I pull myself up to sit on the counter next to him. “Did Uncle Sam drop you as a baby?”

“Listen, she had fake lashes stuck to her cheeks like a goddamn caterpillar this morning. I almost tried to kill one before I realized what it was.” Maddox crosses his arms over his chest and stares at me, daring me to question him. Not like there’s any way in hell I’m going to. I learned a long time ago I don’t want to know what Maddox and Callen do behind closed doors.

Hell, I’m not so sure they haven’t shared women before.

And with that thought, my stomach sours.

Eww.

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