Page 15 of Hold the Line

I leaned in, knocking my head against hers. “Thanks for saying that.”

Grandad folded his arms across his barrel chest. “Doubt you’ll have any trouble from that particular guy again. Not after you scared him away with a rolling pin.” He grinned at me, deep crinkles bursting like sunshine next to his eyes. “If I could have been a fly on the wall for that scene…”

I did not feel great lying to my family about what had truly happened last week, but since I’d set the ball in motion with the police, I had to let it roll. Besides, it made them feel better thinking I’d successfully defended myself.

I sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “How about we talk about something else? Absolutelyanythingelse, please.”

Satisfied, they let the conversation shift to other topics. I relaxed, letting their easy banter and warmth soothe the lingering unease.

At one point, while they bickered playfully about Croatia, my gaze drifted to the bar. My stomach flipped when I spotted Deacon Slater carrying a heavy crate. His tattooed arms flexed as he moved, and he disappeared down the hall to the back.

What was Deacon Slater doing here? And why did my stomach feel like it was suddenly filled with a thousand newly hatched butterflies?

I hadn’t spoken to him since he saved me. He seemed to be avoiding me, and maybe that was for the best. He’d done a nice thing for me, but that didn’t make us friends. He was just going about his life, and I wasn’t part of it.

I told myself this, but when he returned from the dark hallway with another crate, I nearly melted in my chair. After all this time, he still had the same intangible quality that had drawn me to him when we were teenagers. Tangible ones too, of course. His ass still looked incredible in a pair of Wranglers, and the tattoos had only added to his appeal.

My grandmother demanded my attention, so I set my mind off Deke, giving it to her. Soon after, our food came, and I was so swept up in eating and laughing I mostly forgot everything else.

After our plates were cleared, Grandad asked his wife to dance. Joy’s didn’t have a true dance floor, so they made their own near the jukebox. I strolled over, wanting to watch and pick out a few songs I liked. The choices had been popular twenty or more years ago, but the classics worked for me.

Grandad twirled my grandmother around, making her cheeks rosy with happiness. Looking at them, no one would guess they’d been divorced and estranged my entire childhood. They were a reminder that bad situations didn’t have to be permanent. People could change, grow, become better, and have a happy ending.

When the last song was over, my grandmother spoke into Grandad’s ear. He nodded, and she meandered off, then he held his hand out to me. I took it, and he pulled me in close. He clutched my hand in his then placed his other on the center of my back and swung me around the makeshift dance floor. For a man of his size and age, he had smooth moves. He’d been dancing with Hannah and me since we were little, balancing our feet on top of his.

He patted my back. “You’re really doing all right, darlin’?”

“I really am. It shook me up when it happened, but I’m okay now. I’m glad it was me and not Camille or any of my part-timers.”

His chest rumbled. “Love you and how selfless you are, but I’ll never be glad a man put his hands on you.”

I squeezed his hand. “I didn’t even have a bruise.”

His rumble became deeper. “Lucky for that man you didn’t. You wouldn’t have been able to stop your father or brothers from hunting him down.”

“Or my mother and sister.”

He nodded. “True enough.” His bottomless brown eyes darted around my face, and he sighed. “We’re not going to keep talking about this. What’s done is done, handled and over. You built something special, all on your own, and that’s what we’re going to focus on. Now, tell me, what recipes have you got up your sleeve?”

Relief thrummed in my veins. I should have known my grandad would understand I needed to put the incident behind me. He knew me like the back of his hand. I wasn’t a dweller. I didn’t have time for it.

I laid my head on his chest for a beat or two and smiled. Tipping my head back, I showed him that smile then launched into my plans for the bakery while he listened like what I was telling him was the most important thing in the world.

Then he spun me until I was dizzy.

On my final spin, I caught sight of Deacon at the hallway entry, his sharp eyes fixed on me. A jolt of awareness traveled down my spine. I mouthed, “Hello,” and added a small wave before returning to the familiar warmth of my grandad’s arms.

Our dance carried me into another turn, and I glanced back, half expecting to still find him there, but only an empty hallway remained. Deacon wasn’t watching me anymore.

How disappointed I was by that surprised me down to my core.

Chapter Eight

Deacon

Joygavemyshouldera tap. “You’ve done enough for one night, kiddo. Why don’t you take a load off and have a drink?”

I placed the last bottle from the crate on the shelf and straightened, tucking my hands in the pockets of my jeans. “If you don’t have any other work for me, I’ll head home.”

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