4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Phoebe
I almost missed the envelope partially stuffed under my welcome mat but stopped just before stepping on it. Bending down, I scooped it up and carried it into my apartment. It seemed I always had an armful when I got home from work.
Aprons and towels to throw in the laundry, my lunch box, laptop, and my hat and mittens were unloaded onto my kitchen island once I’d kicked off my shoes and wiggled my toes in my thick living room rug.
I flipped the envelope over to examine it. On the outside, scrawled in pencil, was the word “Sorry.” I frowned as I opened it, which turned into a full-on scowl at the stack of cash inside.
Deacon hadn’t bothered to sign his name, but there was no doubt this was from him. It was way too much money. Not that I wanted any amount of money from him, but this? No way. I wouldn’t accept it.
An apology for an honest mistake was all I’d needed, and he’d paid in full. We weren’t going to start our neighborly relationship like this.
Tossing his envelope aside, I pulled out a card and envelope and wrote my own note.
Deacon,
Your apology is accepted. No grudges are being held.
Welcome to the neighborhood!
If you ever change your mind about pastries or coffee, you know where to find me, and you can always count on me to have sugar if you need to borrow some.
Your neighbor,
Phoebe Kelly
He probably wouldn’t appreciate the handmade, pressed-flower notecard I’d bought from a paper artist at the town market last summer, but I wasn’t a plain stationery kind of girl, so he’d have to take it.
Once I placed his cash in the envelope, I slipped my feet in my furry slippers, tossed on a sweater, and walked upstairs to knock on his door.
Like yesterday, there were a few bangs and heavy footsteps before he answered. The flick of his eyes was quick but unmistakable. He’d looked me over then let his gaze linger on my braid resting on my shoulder.
“Hey, Deke. I got your envelope.”
He raised his eyes to mine. “That’s good. Let me know if it’s not enough.”
“You left me two hundred dollars. How could that not be enough?”
His shrug was lazy. “Don’t know how much things like that cost. Took a wild guess.”
“Well, it’s way too much and, like I told you, unnecessary. Accidents happen, you know? I’m not holding a grudge. In fact, I’d forgotten about it until I got home and spotted your apology envelope.”
His nostrils flared as he rocked back on his heels. In the beat of silence that stretched and stretched, I really looked at him, cataloging the changes in his face since I last saw him going on ten years ago.
As a teenager, he’d never had much softness about him, but now, he was rawboned and chiseled. Golden stubble sprouted along the sharp planes of his jaw and shadowed above his flattened mouth. His lashes were thick and pale. Like downy chick feathers, his neatly cut hair was somewhere between light brown and strawberry blond, and his cheeks had a pink tinge, like they’d been bitten by the wind.
Deacon Slater had grown up hard, and it showed, but it didn’t lessen how devastatingly handsome he was. I’d never found myself attracted to tattoos on men, but the ones covering his lean, sinewy forearms made my knees weak.
When we were young, I’d thought he was the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen. He’d never really looked at or talked to me, making staring at him for long swaths of time without getting caught easy.
I wasn’t so lucky this time.
“What?” he gruffed.
I ripped my gaze from his arms, realizing I’d been biting my bottom lip. Oh, my muffins. What the hell am I doing, and why am I doing it on this man’s porch?
“What?” I echoed, without the gruffness.
His lids lowered, and a ripple went through his jaw. “Never mind. Did you need anything else?”
“Actually, yes.” I held out my own envelope. “This is for you.”
He took it in his hand, frowning like he’d never seen pressed paper before—which might’ve been true. I didn’t know what kind of mail prisoners received, but I had a feeling it didn’t usually come on fancy stationery.
With unexpected care, Deke slid his thumb under the flap, opening the envelope without ripping it, and slid the card out. A harsh crevice took up residence between his brows as he read it. Then he replaced the card and stuffed it in the back pocket of his jeans, holding the cash out to me.
“Appreciate it, but you need to take this.”
I raised my hands, taking a step back. “I don’t want it, Deacon. Please keep it.”
His fist balled around the bills. “I can afford to pay for a couple pots.”
Though he was making a valiant effort to keep his tone void of…well, anything, I didn’t miss the echo of injury behind his words. I was aware of what some people in this town thought of my family, especially when the disparity between the haves and have-nots was so vast. The Slaters were on the opposite side of the spectrum. I’d never seen their home, but I’d heard tales of crumbling foundations and boarded-up windows. No heat or indoor plumbing. And everyone said they cooked meth, though I wasn’t certain that was true. If it were, surely they’d have the money to fix up their house.
There was probably a lot of veracity to the things I’d heard, though, and it had to be a sore spot for this man. I hated that he thought I was insulting him. That wasn’t me. Then again, just because I’d carried a torch for him back in high school didn’t mean he’d ever given me a second thought, let alone knew anything about my character. He might’ve thought I was a snobby bitch who looked down on the Slaters.
I wished he didn’t.
“I’m not implying you can’t. I’m sorry if it seemed like I was. I feel as though we’re misunderstanding each other, so I’ll start over.”
He waited, amber eyes keen but darkened by the storms stirring behind them.
I sucked in a deep breath. “I bought those pots on a road trip to Yellowstone with my grandparents. We stopped at an art fair we’d spotted from the road and met the artist who made them. They weren’t very expensive, but I thought they were really pretty. That was right before I moved into my apartment. They were the first purchase I’d made for the start of my new, independent life.”
Deacon was as still as the dead, attentive but silent. I went on.
“The pots are gone, and while I’m sorry about that, it’s okay because I had one of the best trips of my life with my grandparents. I don’t need the pots to remember that. That’s why I don’t want your money, Deacon. It has nothing to do with whether I think you can spare it.”
He cocked his head. “What was so good about it?”
“The trip?”
He nodded.
“A lot of things. We went out with a nature guide at sunrise two mornings in a row and saw wolves. They were just hanging out in a valley, living their wolf lives and letting us witness it. It was the coolest thing I’ve seen in my life. Plus, my grandmother is a little crazy, and my granddad loves the stuffing out of her. It’s always nice to be around that. Love and wolves.”
A little happy laugh bubbled out of me. Deke jumped as though he was startled. I’d have to remember not to laugh so suddenly around him.
He rubbed his chest like he was trying to calm his skittish heart. “Okay. Doesn’t sit right with me, but if you won’t take the money, I can’t force it on you.” He inclined his chin. “Is that all?”
“That’s all.” I had a lot to do tonight, but I was still dragging my feet. “Will tomorrow be another early morning for you?”
“Always is.” He cupped his nape, scuffing his foot against the floor.
“Me too.” I rubbed my lips together. “It’s none of my business, but I’m going to ask anyway. What do you do?”
“Work on the roads. Maintenance and inspection.”
No wonder his cheeks were so ruddy. He worked outside, and the wind could be brutal. If I thought he’d be open to it, I would have given him a salve to protect his skin, but he wouldn’t take my pastries, so I doubted he would accept that .
“Do you do a lot of driving?”
“Yep.” He glanced behind him then peered back at me with a pinched expression. “We don’t need to do this. The whole neighborly thing, it doesn’t have to happen.”
“Oh.” That knocked me down at the knees. Here I was, interested in being friendly since he was living right on top of me and had made my little teenage heart go pitter-patter once upon a time, and he didn’t want any of it.
I couldn’t say my feelings weren’t a little hurt, but that was my fault, not his. I shot him my best, most gleaming smile. “Then I’m sorry for bothering you. I promise I get the hint. It won’t happen again. Have a good night, Deacon.”
I whirled around and started down the stairs, not even making it halfway before he closed his door with a firmness that struck me in my gut.
I didn’t think that could have possibly gone worse. Clearly, Deacon Slater wasn’t any more interested in knowing me now than he had been in high school. That was fine. I didn’t need to be told twice.
He’d go his way, and I’d go mine.
No big deal at all.