Page 26 of Hold the Line

“You really didn’t. One Hannah is as much as I can handle.” She pointed toward a cabinet. “Be a love and grab a container and lid.”

I kissed her smooth cheek. “Thanks, Mom. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it a lot.”

“He’d better.” She filled the container to the brim, using a lot of force to get the lid on, then tapped it with her perfectly manicured fingernails, turning to me. “So, tell me about Deacon.”

“I’m not sure there’s anything to tell yet. He’s sort of a closed book. I don’t know if what I’m feeling is nostalgia or something more, but I keep finding reasons to knock on his door.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t have a problem with a woman doing a little of the chasing, but I don’t think I love that this man isn’t jumping for joy at your attention.”

I almost giggled at the idea of Deacon jumping for joy. Something told me that kind of effusiveness was not in his wheelhouse. “I’m not chasing him, Mom.”

She tapped the container of leftovers again. “Really?”

Some people mistook my soft, thoughtful nature as shy, but I wasn’t at all. There were probably even more people who suspected I was self-conscious because of the size of my ass…and other parts, but they were wrong too. If I was interested in a man, I had no trouble pursuing—but I wouldn’t chase. That would mean he was running from me, either because he was playing games or not interested. I’d rather cut my losses than engage in games, and I’d never had a shortage of dance partners when I was in the mood for one, so lukewarm wasn’t my thing.

“Really,” I stated firmly. “I’m attracted to him and definitely intrigued, but we’ll see where it goes from here.”

“Hmmm.” She didn’t appear convinced. “I’d rather him be jumping for joy, Phe. You are stunning and wonderful. You deserve that kind of enthusiasm.”

“I hear you, and I promise I’m not rushing headlong into anything.”

“Of course you’re not.” She patted my cheek. “Even as a toddler, you examined situations from every angle before making a decision. Of all my kids, your judgment is not something I’ve ever worried about.”

“I’m just figuring things out, the same as everyone else.”

That earned me an eye roll. “The way you figure things out is not the same asanyoneelse.” Then she sighed. “Have fun with your tattooed bad boy. I have one word of warning then I’ll drop it.”

“Mom…”

She leveled me with a sharp gaze. “I can accept he might not be like the rest of them, but if more Slaters start showing up, please forget about him. I don’t want you tangled up with that family.”

That I could promise her.

If Deacon was still involved with the other Slaters, I’d have no trouble walking away.

Chapter Twelve

Phoebe

Asluckwouldhaveit, I didn’t have to go knocking on Deacon’s door. He pulled in moments after I did, so I waited at the rear of my car, my canvas bag hooked on my elbow.

He climbed out of his truck and ambled toward me. “Need help with something?”

“No, I don’t. I wanted to see if you’ve eaten dinner yet.”

He rubbed his nape, his gaze dropping. “Got caught up in a project and haven’t had the chance. I should probably get on that.”

From the look of him, he’d been doing some carpentry. Chips of wood were scattered in his hair, and a fine layer of sawdust coated his navy-blue hoodie. His jeans were old and worn, ripped at the knees and stained here and there.

He looked like he’d been working hard all day with his hands, and I liked that very much. So much so, I became preoccupied in my perusal of him and forgot to reply.

He took a step toward our house. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up. Have a good night, Phoebe.”

“Wait.” I grabbed the back of his sleeve. “I brought you leftovers from dinner with my family. Are you interested? It’s pasta, roasted chicken, salad, rolls—”

He cocked his head. “You brought food for me?”

“Well…yes. My mother would be pretty offended if you didn’t eat it,” I teased.

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