Page 38 of Hold the Line

His eyebrow shot up. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah. So, every morning, unless the weather is treacherous, I walk the half mile to Sugar Rush. And every evening, unless one of my family members waylays me, I walk the half mile home. That’s how I make up for the sampling. I also just like the walk.”

“Lucky I work with asphalt. No danger of wanting to sample it.”

I laughed. “No, I guess not.”

I’d hoped he would ask if he could join me on my walk home sometimes, but he’d made me laugh instead. Grey’s Diner was coming up on our right, and suddenly, I didn’t want this encounter to end. “What do you think about stopping for dinner?”

Deacon looked from me to the diner and back to the road. His grip on the wheel tightened to the point of his knuckles blanching.

“I’m not feeling like going out. It’s been a long day,” he replied flatly.

“That’s understandable.” At least, it would have been had he not reacted the way he had.

“Phoebe…” he sighed, “I’m just getting used to being in town. Going out in public is still a real challenge for me. I see the way folks whisper and react when they recognize me. Doesn’t feel great, and Grey’s is full of a whole lot of people bound to look and whisper. I can handle it, but I don’t want to put you in a position to deal with that. Not yet.”

I reached across the console to rest my hand on his leg. “I hear you, Deke. I wish I could assure you that wouldn’t happen, but we both know that isn’t true. It’ll take time, but they’ll get used to seeing you around.”

“You’ve lived in this town your whole life. You know how slow things are to change.”

“The best and worst part of Sugar Brush—love it because it’s always the same, hate it for the same reason.” I squeezed his leg. Feeling how rigid he was had me wishing I hadn’t asked him to go to dinner with me. The mood had started to nosedive, though I wasn’t quite ready to admit it as ruined. “I’ve had enough people for the day anyway. I’ll make us dinner.”

“You don’t need to do that. Not after working all day.”

“Then you can help so I don’t have to cook all by myself.”

His hand came down on top of mine, warm and rough. “I don't know what I’m doing, but I’ll try the best I can.”

“That’s all I ask,” I whispered.

Later, after dinner, Deke was washing up while I quizzed him about his favorite things—chocolate cake, dogs, blue, football, Sundays, the sunrise. It wasn’t like my questions were deeply personal, but he gave the answers easily like he had nothing to hide, and I liked that. After dating one too many men who’d lied as naturally as breathing, honesty was critical to me.

“Do you like to dance?”

Finished with the dishes, he shut off the water and grabbed a towel to dry his hands. “I can’t say I’ve done much thinking about it. Don’t know if I like doing it or not.”

“I take that to mean you’ve never been out dancing.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. It’s never come up. Chris and Tilly like to go to some country joint near Laramie. They’ve asked me to join, but being their third wheel is the last thing I want to do.”

“Boots Up Bar? I’ve run into those two there at least twice. Cam and I like to go when it gets warm and let guys spin us around the dance floor. We should go. Maybe with Chris and Till.”

Tilly stopped into Sugar Rush fairly often, and Chris swung by on weekends to pick up a coffee and muffin for his wife. I didn’t know either of them well, but they were both friendly as could be. Getting to know them better wouldn’t be a hardship—especially since they were Deacon’s good friends.

“I wouldn’t know the first thing about spinning.” The muscles in his jaw jerked. “And I don’t think I’d like sitting there while other men spun you around the dance floor.”

“Didn’t I make it clear? If I'm on a date with you, I’m not going to entertain other men.”

“Yeah, you did.” He tossed the towel onto the counter and slowly reached out, setting his hand on my hip. “Still wrapping my head around that, Phoebe.”

I stepped into him, laid my hands on his chest. “Instead, how about you wrap yourarmsaroundmeand take me for a spin in my kitchen?”

He slid his hand from my hip to the base of my back. “There’s no music.”

I called out to my home entertainment system, asking it to start my dancing playlist. “Problem solved.”

His brow furrowed. His entire body was rigid. “I’m going to step on your toes.”

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