Page 61 of Hold the Line

She didn’t immediately reply, but I was getting used to that with her. If she was asked a question, she made sure of her answer before she gave it.

Finally, she responded, giving me what I’d been hoping for. “No, I’m not turned off. Not at all.” She curled her fingers around my wrist, stroking my pulse with her thumb. “I’m curious why you’ve never been with anyone, though.”

“I spent a lot of my life just trying to make it through. Once I was done with school and had a job, I brought my little sister to live with me. Finding a girl was the last thing on my mind. After I got out, I don’t think I really started breathing easy until I moved into my apartment. I don’t know if it’s God smiling down on me or finally catching a break, but I happened to find the girl of my dreams is my neighbor, so…well, now I’m thinking about it.”

Her lips tipped. “A lot?”

“Oh yeah, sugar. I want all that with you.” I leaned close, my nose gliding along hers. “But we’re going to take our time getting there because I want everything else with you too.”

“Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds,” Joy announced, putting a halt to our conversation. She bent over the table, placing our plates and silverware down beside our beers. “I tried to wait you out, but the rate you two were going, your dinner was going to get cold.”

Phoebe’s laugh was melodic and sweet. Goddamn, had I missed hearing her laugh. And the way she looked at Joy, like she was genuinely happy to see her, made me fall even deeper for this woman.

“Thanks so much. This looks great,” she said.

Joy winked at her. “Just trying to keep up with all the deliciousness you come up with in your kitchen, darlin’. You two have a nice dinner.”

“Thank you, Joy.”

“Of course, Deke. Happy to have the two of you here together. Real, real happy.”

She caught my eyes. Hers twinkled, startling the hell out of me. My aunt had always cared for me and made no bones about showing it, but I couldn’t say I’d ever seen a twinkle in her eyes. Not even close.

The conversation we’d been having before Joy’s arrival was best left for private, so we ate our dinner, switching to lighter topics. I got to hear about the bread she’d been baking in her spare time and how her brother had forbidden her from adding it to her menu—something I agreed with once I’d learned his reasoning. I told her about the desk I’d finished today for a client and a potential new commission for custom cabinetry I was bidding on.

“Do you have a picture of the desk?”

“Sure I do.” I spun my phone in her direction, holding my breath as she scrolled through the pictures I’d taken. “I started documenting my process so when customers questioned my pricing, I could show them how much I put into my projects.”

She tapped the screen with her nail. “If anyone questions the cost of your work after seeing the finished product, they’re being purposely obtuse. You make incredible pieces, Deacon.”

She huffed but didn’t say anything else.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing really. I was thinking I wish you’d been around when I was opening Sugar Rush. I would have loved to hire you to build pieces for me. But then it occurred to me I wouldn’t have been able to afford you.”

“You think I’d let you pay me?”

“I think it would be a bad business model if you didn’t.” She grinned, then flicked the thought away. “Soon, you’ll be too busy. Even if I had the cash, you wouldn’t have the time for me.”

“Never. That’d never happen,” I stated firmly.

“I mean professionally,” she amended.

“Same answer.” I pushed back from the table and held my hand out to her. “We’re gonna pick a song on the jukebox and dance to it.”

She raised a brow. “We are?” Her hand slipped into mine like it’d always been there, and she rose to her feet before me, her lips curled in a happy little smile. “We are.”

Joy’s didn’t have much of a dance floor, but it was enough. I felt eyes on us as I twirled her the way she liked but decided not to care since it was obvious she didn’t give a single damn.

She proved that when a woman bumped into her as she passed.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The woman was fortyish, dressed a little too sophisticated for her to be a local, and when her gaze landed on Phoebe, recognition lit her features. “Phoebe, darling, it’s you!”

Phoebe twisted in my arms to face her. “Margot, hey. How are you?”

“I’m great. Just grabbing a drink. You look like you’re having fun.” The woman’s eyes darted from Phoebe to me then back.

---