Page 6 of Big Dog
A soft smile slowly spreads across her face. “I’m not arguing. Please continue.”
I’ll grovel more if I have to. A little more anyway. “You said that, if I was interested, you’d like to see where this goes. I’m interested. I think a real date would be a good first step, don’t you?”
She doesn’t have time to answer. The apartment door bursts open and Deacon storms into the room, followed by Violet. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Thank God he hadn’t been five minutes earlier. “I was about to ask Romy if eight o’clock on Thursday was a good night to take her to Jameson’s.”
“When I asked you to help her, I specifically said that it was to stop all the local shitheads from hitting on her. You weren’t supposed to clear the deck for yourself.”
Romy’s expression starts off shocked, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. It quickly morphs to angry, then a subtle shift to pissed off. I see her pinch her lips together so hard they turn white. “I’m going to assume you thought you were acting in my best interest, but you don’t get to dictate who I do or don’t date, Deacon.”
“He’s a decade and a half older than you, for fuck’s sake!”
“I know.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. If Romy says that she’s decided on me, nothing is going to change her mind. This time her stubbornness is in my favor and I’ve never been more grateful. “Deke, if the lady says she’s not worried about it, I’m going to take her at her word. You know I’m not going to fuck around with this.” I would have never given in to what I feel for her if I thought that was a possibility.
Romy nods. “With love to Violet, because I know she’d say the same thing, I’ve been looking after myself for a very long time. I’m a big girl and I say I’m going out with Bishop.”
“You’re still my baby sister,” Violet says. It would be a protest if it came from anybody else.
Violet’s sweetness is not enough to diffuse the situation. I see Romy’s back getting stiffer by the minute. I don’t want her to be pressured into justifying her choice. She might change her mind. “Romy has spoken. Everybody else shuts up,” I say. “I’m sure you two have somewhere else to be. I’ll make sure Romy gets home.”
“We are all grown-ups,” Romy continues. “We will all handle what happens here, whatever happens here, respectfully. Or you will deal with me. Now take Violet home, Deke. I know you stuck JD with Peony duty even if she is asleep. Bishop and I have more date details to work out.”
Violet gives her little sister a hard look, then grabs Deacon’s hand and hauls him out the door and down the steps. I always knew I liked her. Now it’s back to just Romy and me. “Tell me more about Jameson’s. How dressy do I have to be?”
“Not that dressy or we won’t make it out of the driveway,” I tell her honestly.
She changes subjects so quickly my head spins. “So, we’re definitely doing this, right?”
Romy doesn’t specify what “this” is. I know it’s too early to use labels; we haven’t even had a real date yet. But we both know what “this” will be once we decide to acknowledge it. “You and me? Yes, we’re doing this.”
“And we’re adults, and we’ll take it as it comes?” she presses.
“I’m not going in with the end in sight, but yes. Go hard or go home.”
This earns me a smile that will haunt my dreams. “I came hard and now I’m going home. But you can pick me up on Thursday at…”
“Six,” I say. “It’s about a forty-five minute drive.”
“See you then.”
She leaves me standing alone in the garage apartment. I smile when I think of what we did on the sofa. Thursday is a long time to wait to replace that memory with a new one we’ll make in my bedroom.
But I’m sure Romy will be worth it.
Chapter Seven
After twenty-four hours of radio silence, Violet invites me to coffee at the Halfway Café on Sunday to feel me out about what I’m doing with Bishop. I have no answers for her beyond “I like him” and “It feels right.” Considering how she started with Bishop’s brother, there’s not too much she can say to warn me off a Dobermann. When I tell her that I’d like her support on this, she swallows all trepidation and promises to have my back when it comes to Deacon. I expect nothing less. She also promises to gut Bishop like a fish if he hurts me, but I’m willing to risk it.
I can distract myself from thoughts of Bishop during the day, especially when I have a shitty night’s sleep. I need to be on my game with contractors showing up daily. The arts and crafts cabin is starting to take shape. I clear a space for work permits to be displayed in the new window, next to the security surveillance notices and “Coming Soon” signs. Thankfully when the roofing crew and the plumber do arrive, they work at different locations and keep out of each other’s way.
I don’t expect a third car to pull up on Tuesday. Curtis Cort steps out of a bronze BMW that costs more than my downpayment and saunters toward the front door, carrying abouquet of grocery store flowers. I am not impressed. If me, politely but definitely turning him down at the bar and grill wasn’t enough of a no, Bishop’s barbarian impression should have made it clear that I wasn’t on the market.
“Rosemary, I’m glad to find you here today.”
“I’m here every day. I work here. But why are you here if you thought I wouldn’t be?” I ask. My voice is a fraction more friendly than cool.
