Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
GIA
The Butter and Rein Steakhouse on Main Street was loud for a Wednesday. It was the kind of loud that made me lean in like I was about to share secrets with someone I didn’t know well enough.
I hadn’t been on a date in years, but Deck qualified as what I’d generously call a low-effort experience. He hadn’t opened the doors for me, hadn’t pulled out my chair, and had checked his phone three times before the waitress even brought water.
Maybe it was because he was younger than me by a few years. Or maybe this was on point for Deck. He had a slightly unkempt look, with overgrown hair that needed a cut weeks ago. His half-assed shave couldn’t decide what it was doing. And his clothes made me question if he knew how to fold laundry.
I was here out of curiosity. I almost canceled after I heard he worked for Timothy, but then a thought had slipped in—quiet, opportunistic, and a little unethical.
I wanted to know more about Timothy’s life beyond the fact he was divorced and now a single parent.
This wasn’t about my father’s stupid vendetta.
Across from me, Deck kept tapping the side of his water glass like he was trying to send a distress signal through condensation.
His gaze flicked through his slightly too-long, dark bangs toward where the waitress had disappeared, lingering like she might return carrying emotional stability instead of a beer.
I was going to have to drive this.
“Did you grow up in Vision?” I asked.
His head snapped up like I’d called on him in class. “Nah. Moved here about five years ago from Boone.”
And…that was it.
I gave it a beat. Two beats. Three. Surely more words were coming.
They did not.
“So, you’re in construction?” I tried again.
“HVAC stuff. Installing A/C units, furnaces. That kind of thing.” He shrugged, like climate control was a casual hobby. “What about you? What do you do?” His eyes dropped to my chest. Not in a flattering way. More like he’d lost something down there and was hoping it might turn up.
I resisted the urge to check.
“I’m a veterinarian.”
“That’s fire,” he said, nodding like I’d told him I could juggle knives. “My boss’s sister-in-law and brother are vets. They own the big new complex out closer to the interstate.”
I know.
His gaze drifted south again, this time more committed to the view. “Your freckles are beautiful.”
I blinked. That was…technically a compliment.
“Uh, thanks?” The words came out like a question I hadn’t meant to ask. I took a sip of water I didn’t want. Could this get any more awkward?
His phone rang. Who the hell kept their ringer on during a date?
Deck glanced down, and the color drained from his face so fast it was almost impressive. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. Can you give me a few minutes? I’m going to step outside.”
“Okay.”
He was already halfway gone before I finished the word. But then he stopped. Just stopped in the middle of the restaurant like he’d run into a wall no one else could see.
A person.
Tall.
They exchanged a few words I couldn’t hear, but whatever was said had Deck nodding too quickly before slipping out the door.
And then—
Timothy.
He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t scan the room. He came straight for me like he’d known exactly where I was sitting.
My stomach dropped.
This man should be illegal. Or at least that shirt should be.
Some kind of athletic material stretched to make everything underneath it impossible to ignore—broad shoulders, and the suggestion of a solid six-pack beneath.
He’d tucked the shirt into his jeans, giving him an enticing sense of having it all together.
Like he wasn’t already unfairly exceptional.
His gaze found mine, and it wasn’t neutral.
It dragged, slow and deliberate, downward, taking its time in a way that made heat crawl up my spine before I could shut it down.
This was nothing like Deck’s glance. This was intentional. It lingered at the dip of my shirt just long enough to make a point, perhaps remembering my intentional distraction yesterday when I took off my coveralls. His perusal then dropped to my boots.
I almost rolled my eyes in reaction to his eyebrow raise. Almost.
I loved my spiky heeled black boots. We’d had a conversation about this kind of shoe long ago at the lake, one I’m sure played in his mind now. He had announced there was only one use for this kind of boot—being naked except for them.
Every time I put on these boots, I thought about those words.
I’d never had an actual naked-boots moment.
My ex hadn’t been the most adventurous in bed, not that sexy boots were especially adventurous.
Justin called himself “practical.” Shoes in bed weren’t practical.
In the beginning, I’d liked Justin for who he’d been, which was smart, confident, and an exceptional veterinary surgeon.
But I hadn’t loved Justin the way he deserved.
His words, not mine. Our drifting apart and him eventually finding someone else was probably my fault.
I’d never been committed to putting in the work necessary to build something that could last.
Timothy’s mouth shifted. His lower jaw unhinged ever so slightly.
Oh, yeah. The naked boots vision was going through his head. My choosing to wear them was worth that look.
I leaned back slightly in my chair, crossing one leg over the other, giving him a better look without meaning to. Or maybe exactly meaning to.
“Timothy Hurst,” I said before he could speak. My voice came out cool and steady, hiding everything happening under my skin.
His gaze moved back to mine. There were wrinkles in the corners of his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before. The sharp creases marked time, but they hadn’t softened him. If anything, it made him more dangerous. As if restraint had been forced on him.
My sister’s voice echoed in my head. He runs people over and doesn’t even notice.
That wasn’t what I saw. Timothy noticed everything. He always had. He just chose what to let matter.
Right now, I felt like I did.
“You’re on a date with Deck?” he asked, already pulling out the chair across from me like it was his and this was inevitable.
“Sure am.” The words came out clipped, but my pulse started to climb, beating too hard, too fast. My body seemed to be bracing for an impact I couldn’t see yet.
He tilted his head slightly, glancing toward the door. “You do know he’s on the phone with Louann?” He pressed his tongue behind his front teeth. “That’s his baby momma number two.”
The words hit. Surprise flickered across my face before I could stop it, before I could smooth it out into something unaffected. Damn it. When I looked back at him, there was the faintest hint of satisfaction pulling at his mouth. Not a smile. Worse. He liked that he’d gotten a reaction.
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms like I could lock everything back down where it belonged. He wanted a fight, perhaps the one we never got to have. I wasn’t sure I was in the mood tonight to give him the satisfaction.
“How many baby mommas does he have?” My tone was dry, but there was an edge now.
“Three.”
A breath slipped out of me—half disbelief, half something closer to embarrassment. The lingering awareness that Timothy was sitting across from me, watching every micro-reaction like he was cataloging them for later use…
I hated that a part of me still reacted at all and still cared. Damn Misty for not warning me about Deck.
“Deck has been married three times?”
Timothy chuffed out a partial laugh. “No. Never married. He’s real good at pulling out the goods but not so great at putting a ring on it.” Then he chuckled to himself. “Perhaps, he’s not all that good at pulling out.”
A laugh burst out of me. “Apparently not.”
Then I forced myself to sober. “Maybe he’s exactly what I’m looking for. A fun time. Sounds like he’s got a lot of experience.”
“You want to do that with Deck? You want to end up raising a kid alone?” He sucked in his cheeks and blew out a breath.
“Got the boots for the fun part at least, don’t I?
” I shrugged. My eyes snagged on his shirt again.
I shouldn’t be staring. “I haven’t had, uh, a lot of fun since the divorce last year.
Perhaps, it’s about time I got back in the game.
” I took a sip of water. “You still look like someone who understands the value of high-quality fun.”
He emitted a strangled noise. Then he checked his watch like he could bully time into moving faster. “What the hell is taking Deck so long? I have to get to the church.”
“You’re going to church in that?” I tilted my head, dragging my gaze over him slowly on purpose. Wednesday was prayer group.
“What?” He glanced down at himself, distracted.
“I mean…” I pressed my lips together, already smiling. “If you’re trying to tempt some poor woman into sin, you’ve got it nailed.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. Heat crawled up my neck anyway.
Color hit his cheeks hard and fast all the way down to the stubble of his jaw.
His eyes jerked back to mine, then dipped, but not subtle nor quick enough to pretend it hadn’t happened.
When those dark blues came back up, there was something tighter there.
He looked me over until his gaze cooled.
“Why are you wearing long sleeves? It’s ninety degrees outside. ”
My stomach dropped. Wrong direction for this conversation. Very wrong direction.
“The air conditioning is cold,” I said as lightly as I could manage. “You wouldn’t understand since you’re hot blooded.”
His gaze had already moved. Hunting. “No,” he said, quieter now. “That’s not it. Gia—”
Shit.
I shifted my arms to hold my hands under the table, but it was too late. He’d seen enough to know where to look.
I warned, “Rye—”
He reached out. Not rough. Not gentle either. Certain.