15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Phoebe
I had never given tattoos much thought. None of the men I’d dated in the past had had more than one or two at most, and I hadn’t paid them any attention. But when Deacon Slater whipped his shirt off, my tongue got stuck to the roof of my mouth. Not only were his arms fully sleeved, but across his chest was the silhouette of the Rocky Mountains and unraveled spools of barbed wire running down his sides to the ridges of his hips. It was beautiful work, to be sure, but the fact that it was on Deacon’s body made my knees feel like jelly.
He lay down on Jett’s table, his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Jett winked at me when he caught me staring. I wasn’t embarrassed, though. If I were lying in front of Deacon with my shirt off, I hoped he’d be staring too.
Jett got to work on touching up Deacon’s side piece, low music playing in the background. I asked Jett questions about his business and tattoos in general. He was easy to talk to and enthusiastic about sharing his knowledge. He also seemed to enjoy hyping Deacon up.
“Met him at a show. He came into the shop I used to work at the next day and showed me his measly portfolio. Even back then, the kid had talent.” Jett rolled away on his stool to grab a paper towel then returned, bending his head to keep going. “I thought he was full of shit, though. Never figured he’d really follow through on building all the cabinetry for this place.”
“I wanted a tattoo,” Deacon muttered. “’Course I followed through.”
Jett chuckled. “Yeah, one tattoo for all that work. I’d said no, brother, you’re getting sleeves. Then he built my mom a vanity, so I inked his sides. The chest piece was payment for the molding he installed. Never been to a tattoo shop with fucking molding. Customers are always noticing it too. Details like that set us apart. Top-notch art and nice as hell environment.”
I tipped my head back to study the crown molding. It was the same hue as the wooden furniture with ornamental detailing. It looked so nice I wanted crown molding at Sugar Rush.
I didn’t think I’d ask Deke for it, though. Knowing what I did about him, he’d try to build me a whole new shop and ask to be paid in cookies.
“Did I hear Deke is on the premises?” A woman with long, black hair stuck her head in the doorway. “No one thought to call me down here?”
Jett raised his head. “I knew you’d find your way.”
She sauntered into the space, hands on her curvy hips, focus on Deacon and Jett. Shiny ebony hair hung in loose waves over honey-brown skin decorated with classic-style tattoos. Her jeans molded to a really nice butt, and her T-shirt revealed a slice of narrow waist. It was only when she turned to the side I noticed the lines around her eyes and mouth and silver at her temples. This stunning woman had to be closer to my mom’s age than mine.
Once she’d reunited with Deke, Jett pointed me out to her, and she threw her arms around me with the same enthusiasm Jett had.
“Oh my god, you’re stunning.” She pulled back, fluffing my hair around my shoulders. “Deke’s never brought a woman around. It’s about time.”
“You are too. I’m Phoebe, by the way.”
“Giselle, sweet thing. Though most of the guys around here call me Mama.” She jerked her thumb toward Jett. “I only birthed one kid but managed to be a mom to a dozen.”
I grinned. “Nice to meet you.”
Deacon stayed quiet, his lips rolled in a tight line, eyes on the ceiling. I had a feeling all this hustle and bustle was taking him out of the zone he needed to be in to get through the pain.
“Is there somewhere I could grab something to drink nearby?” I asked Giselle.
“Sure is. I’ll take you.” She slipped her arm around mine. “Phoebe and I are going to get drinks. We’ll be back in a bit. Don’t trash the place while we’re gone,” she singsonged, pulling me with her to a coffee shop down the block.
After ordering, we grabbed a table and sipped our drinks while she told me everything she knew about Deacon—which wasn’t a lot. At least I wasn’t the only one he was closed off around.
“We sent him care packages when he was on the inside.” She shook her head. “He didn’t want any of us visiting, like it would’ve been an inconvenience or something. It pissed me off, but Jett talked me down. Said we had to help Deke get through how he needed to. Being reminded of life on the outside wasn’t what he wanted, so we sent him books and magazines and stocked up his commissary account for him to buy toiletries and snacks for himself. Showed him we had his back and hadn’t forgotten him the only way he’d accept, you know?”
“Yeah, I do know. Every time I’m nice to him, he’s surprised.”
She laughed, but it was a sad sound. “That’s Deke. I don’t know a lot about how he grew up, but I know there wasn’t a whole lot of love there. Like the song goes, instead of kisses, he got the shit kicked out of him. I’m paraphrasing, of course.”
“That’s probably what Annie really meant,” I said, laughing with the same sadness. “The Slaters have a bad reputation, and they’ve earned it. They live on the outskirts of town in an off-the-grid compound. From what I’ve heard, most of the crime in the area can be traced back to them. I can’t imagine they were a loving family to grow up with.”
“Nope. It’s a wonder Deke turned out the way he did. He was like Jett’s scrappy little brother. It took him a while to get that wild look out of his eyes. Like he was expecting an attack at any second, but once he relaxed, he’d get us laughing with his smart-ass comments. That boy would do a favor for anyone at the drop of a hat. He’s just good down to his bones. It killed me when he went away.”
We finished our drinks and headed back to the shop. Deacon and Jett were finishing up when we arrived. I bit my lip as Jett cleaned and bandaged Deacon’s fresh tattoo. Beside me, Giselle laughed. She probably knew exactly what I was looking at.
After he slipped his shirt on, Deacon faced me, giving me a long once-over. “You all right?”
“I’m great.” I held out the bottle of juice I’d picked up for him. “I checked the label. It’s safe.”
“Appreciate it, Phoebe.” He took it, twisted off the lid, and took a deep pull without double-checking the ingredients. Warmth blanketed my chest at the trust he’d just shown me. There was nothing better.
The four of us headed to the front. Giselle had to take a phone call, and Deke and Jett started in about the care of the wood on the desk, so I ventured back to the flash wall. I still wasn’t convinced I wanted a tattoo, but the idea was creeping in.
The same guy who’d greeted me when we’d arrived sidled back up. His name was Phil, he was a tattoo artist, and he’d been trying to convince me to let him give me my first tattoo.
“Did you make up your mind?” he asked.
“I did not. If I ever get a tattoo, it won’t be on a whim.”
“I’d be honored to draw you something custom.”
I smiled at him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He took his phone from his pocket. “I’d love to take you out to dinner and talk about it more. Would you give me your number?”
Of course I’d been aware he was flirting with me, so why was I so thrown off guard? Probably because I was here with Deacon. The audacity it had taken for Phil to ask me for my number when I’d shown up with another guy was pretty astounding.
I was so surprised, I accepted his phone before I could give it a thought. He leaned in, his head almost touching mine, and swiped the screen. When his contacts lit up and my name had already been input, I snapped out of my daze.
Phil was cute, but I wasn’t at all interested. Still, there were people around, and we were at his workplace. Not wanting to embarrass him, I kept my voice quiet.
“Thank you for asking, but I’m not available.” I returned his phone and smiled. “Besides, I think Jett would be offended if I went to someone else for a tattoo.”
He cocked his head. “Ah, no worries. Figured I had to shoot my shot while I had the chance. No harm, no foul.”
Still smiling, I stepped away and turned around, finding Deacon staring blankly in my direction. Concerned, I crossed the waiting room, stopping in front of him. His eyes lowered to mine.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “You probably need to eat after getting tattooed, huh?”
“Right.” He jerked his chin. “I was thinking we’d grab a pizza on the way out of town. Is that all right with you?”
“It’s perfect.” I brushed my fingers along his forearm featherlight, and his muscles rippled. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m good.” He drew his arm away from me. “Like you said, I probably just need to eat.”
I hoped that was all it was.
Deacon stayed quiet and remote through dinner. After spending the last few hours with the boisterous group at Jett’s shop, the shift was jarring, but I tried not to take it personally, assuming he was all peopled out. From the time we’d spent together, I’d gleaned Deacon was far more introverted than I was.
We listened to my podcast on the way home, and I shifted between staring out my window into the dark and studying Deacon’s rigid profile illuminated by the truck’s panel lighting. I wondered if reuniting with Giselle and Jett after being away for so long had been somewhat heavy for him. Not to mention, he’d worked a full day at a physically demanding job before picking me up, driving an hour, and getting tattooed.
Yeah, it was no wonder he was quiet. That would have been a lot for anyone.
The episode ended as we entered Sugar Brush, and I switched on the radio, keeping the music soft to spark a little conversation.
“Giselle, Jett, and everyone else at the shop were pretty great.”
He tapped the steering wheel with his thumbs as he nodded. “Yeah.”
“Thanks for bringing me with you. I really liked meeting everyone. I’m still not sold on getting a tattoo, but if I ever decide on one, I’d trust Jett in a heartbeat.”
“Not Phil?”
It took me a second to remember who Phil was. When I did, I wondered why in the world Deacon was asking about him. “Oh, no, I don’t think so. I really love Jett’s style. Plus, I think he’d have me laughing through the whole thing. Maybe one day…”
“Maybe.”
That was all I’d gotten out of him the rest of the drive. My stomach twisted with disappointment. It had been such a lovely evening, but it wasn’t looking like it was going to end on a sweet note.
Once we were home and parked, we walked up the steps together. Deacon stopped with me on my landing, keeping a good distance between us.
Definitely not having a sweet ending.
I unlocked my door but stayed on my welcome mat, hoping for…something—a clue of what had gone wrong or why Deacon was so withdrawn.
“I had a really wonderful time, Deacon.”
He looked down at the leftover container clutched in his hand. “Good. I’m glad you did.”
I rubbed my lips together, searching for something to say to prolong this. “The piece you made for the shop is truly incredible.” I touched my toe to one of the planters he’d made me. “I knew you were talented, but that was beyond.”
“Thank you, Phoebe.” His gaze lifted, landing on my face. He took a slow meander over my features before locking onto my eyes. “I don’t know Phil, but if he works for Jett, he’s probably a stand-up guy.”
My brow dropped. “Okay…well, I’m not sure I want a tattoo, but like I said, I’d go to Jett.”
“I’m not talking about tattoos.”
“I—what are you talking about then?”
He scrubbed the back of his neck, puffing a heavy breath. “Aren’t you going out with him?”
I blinked hard. And again. “I thought this…tonight…oh my god!” I slapped my forehead, finally understanding what he was saying and how incredibly wrong I’d been. “Oh, I feel so stupid.”
He took a step toward me. “You’re nowhere near stupid. Why would you say that?”
I blinked a few more times, processing the concern etched in his expression. I’d never made such a misstep with a man in my life. Here I’d been thinking I’d been on the best first date ever and it hadn’t been a date at all.
“I misread things. That’s my fault.” I tried to sound nonchalant and waved him off as if I wasn’t mortified. “Phil did ask me out, but I turned him down. Partially because I’m not interested, but mostly because I thought I was there with you.”
“ With me?” His eyebrows shot up, his voice laced with disbelief like the idea was so absurd it couldn’t possibly be true.
“It’s my own fault for thinking tonight was a date. Don’t worry at all.” Reaching behind me, I twisted my doorknob, beyond ready to disappear and lick my wounds. “It’s late, and we both have to get up early. Thanks again for a lovely time. Good night.”
I managed to push my door open and take a single step into my apartment. Before I could slip inside and pretend this never happened, though, a warm hand gripped the back of my neck and spun me around so fast I collided with his chest. His other hand came up to cradle my jaw, his touch firm but gentle, his thumb brushing my cheek.
We stared at each other for one breath, then another. Before I could take my third, his soft lips touched mine, light and testing. I shifted closer, fisting the fabric of his shirt in my fingers, and he tipped his head, slotting his lips with mine.
At first, that was all it was: a press of tender flesh and slow exchange of breaths. Then, gradually, his lips parted, and mine followed, and it became more. The touch of his tongue to the bow of my lip. His fingers threading into my hair. The front of his hard body pressing, flushing with the soft give of mine.
It wasn’t a burst of fireworks. It was an incremental rise of a promise for what was to come. And somewhere in the haze of being kissed breathless, younger me was cheering. I was finally getting to kiss the guy, and it was more than I ever imagined back when I was doodling his name in hearts.
Opening my hands, I slid them down his sides and circled my arms around his narrow waist. He was only a couple inches taller than me, and I liked that very much. It put us on the same level, neither of us straining. We could have comfortably stood outside my door kissing for hours. And the way he tasted and felt, I would gladly have done that.
Deacon pulled back, his warm breath ghosting across my lips as he stared at me in a daze.
“You’re not stupid,” he uttered, low and raspy. “That’s me. I’d never been in a position to take a woman out before I went in. If I’d known you wanted tonight to be a date, I would’ve brought you flowers.”
“You’ve never been on a date?” That surprised me. Looking the way he did, with the tattoos, voice, and everything else…
But maybe he’d kept things casual with women. After all, he’d been in his early twenties when he’d gone to prison. Deacon didn’t strike me as a hit-it-and-quit-it kind of guy, though.
The corner of his mouth hitched. “Guess I have now.”
My toes curled in my shoes. “I guess so.” I leaned in, touching my lips to his. “I like flowers, but they’re not necessary. I really did have a great time with you.”
His thumb dragged back and forth on my cheek. “I’m wrapping my head around this.”
“I think I am too.”
“You want to do it again?”
I nodded. “Yep, I definitely do.”
“Good.” He kissed the side of my mouth. “This kind of thing is new to me, Phoebe. You’re gonna have to tell me when I’m messing things up.”
“You won’t. So long as you don’t assume I’d ever take another man’s number when I’m out with you.”
He chuffed. “I think I got that.”
“Then you’ll do just fine.” Smiling, I let my arms slip from his waist and backed into my doorway. “See you soon, Deke.”
The slow, lazy grin he returned would keep his name in heart doodles for years to come. It was that good.
“Yeah. You will,” he drawled in a promise I fully intended to cash in on.