11. From Frigid To Balmy
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FROM FRIGID TO BALMY
Ruby
Talk about a change in the weather.
And I’m not talking Mother Nature.
The temperature of Payne Deacon has turned from frigid with a negative wind chill to a balmy ninety-eight-point-six. He’s so comfortable around me, I’m the one left itchy in my own skin.
Monday, he did as promised and had breakfast at the Combover.
He sat at the counter and chatted with Winnie while he ate an egg-white vegetable omelet.
He didn’t glare at me once, growl in my direction, or try to murder me with his whiskey-brown lasers.
I’m not sure what shocked me more, his pleasant demeanor or the fact he’s turned into a health freak.
Winnie might have been more surprised by his one-eighty than me, because she talked about it for the rest of the day.
Tuesday, he stopped in for a cup of coffee to go.
He drinks it black these days—another new thing for me to learn about him.
While he was there, he stopped to chat with the retired club who was playing their weekly dominoes game.
He even took his non-asshole persona to a new level when he slipped me two fifties, told me to pay for their lunch, and to order them the daily cobbler. Then he wished me a fabulous day.
Another thing to know about the new Payne: the word fabulous is in his vocabulary.
I also learned that there was another post about us in the Winslet Uncut social media group.
This one wasn’t about a dog-eat-dog fight between Payne and me.
No, this one featured a picture of Payne slipping me the cool Ulysses S.
Grants. Payne might as well be a GQ model gazing down at me with his ruggedly handsome self with a smirk pulling at one side of his full lips.
He looked like he just ordered up a naked Ruby Sinclair and was deciding whether to devour me slowly or eat me whole.
I, on the other hand, was sporting another coffee stain—this time in the shape of Texas—and looked like a small animal who was about to become a victim in the food chain.
I wish I could block people in real life the way I can online. The number of patrons who showed me the Uncut post clicked into the teens.
Today is Wednesday. Breakfast and lunch roll by with no sign of either version of my past lover—not the asshole or the charming gentleman. He’s thrown me for such a loop since he promised not to be an ass, I’m on edge.
The lunch rush has finally cleared when the bell rings over the door. I was right to be on guard, because when Payne walks through the entrance, the dirty dish in my hand crashes to the floor.
I’m that flummoxed.
Yes, flummoxed.
No other adjective is suitable. Payne isn’t the only one using new F-words.
Today he’s not dressed for business or to take over the world.
He’s in a pair of running shorts and a tight athletic T-shirt that reads Winslet Youth Sports.
Sweat drips down his glistening skin and stains his shirt.
His perfectly overgrown hair curls at the ends, kissing his forehead like the lusty little bitches they are.
And to top off the scene that’s spicier than Carl’s secret sauce, Payne is cradling a kitten against his rock-hard pec.
The tiny creature is white with black and brown spots, and so perfect I’d think it was a product of artificial intelligence if it weren’t in the fluffy flesh in front of me.
It can’t be more than two pounds and looks completely content held against Payne’s sweaty body.
But who wouldn’t be?
I never thought I’d say this, but I’m jealous of a kitten.
Winnie completely ignores the broken plate at my feet and squeals. “Oh my lanta, it’s a kitten!”
With his free hand, Payne pulls a bud from his ear, lifts the teensy feline up to look it in the eyes, and speaks to it like they’re reunited long-lost lovers. “I found you in a ditch on my jog, didn’t I? You were alone and making the most miserable meows. How could I pass you by?”
If Winnie were in a cartoon, hearts would bounce from her eyes on springs. “You really are a hero, Payne Deacon! You saved that little baby. It’s a wonder it hasn’t been eaten up by coyotes or a hawk. Those hawks creep me out, but I love cats!”
Payne turns his gaze from Winnie to me before glancing at my feet. “You broke a dish.”
I look down at the random fries scattered on the floor and the ketchup that dots my sneakers and jeans.
“She’s too overcome by the precious kitty,” Winnie says.
“Yes,” I lie. I’m way too busy reminiscing about Payne sweaty and naked to think about a feline. “So cute.”
Payne snuggles it back to his chest and strokes it with his other hand. The kitten purrs.
I’m not only jealous but green with envy. Dammit.
Payne turns back to Winnie. “I don’t know what to do with her. If I bring her home, she’d get lost in the house. And there’s the fact I have no idea what to do with a pet. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that my parents were not pet people.”
That’s an understatement. One time back in middle school when I was at Payne’s house, I watched Tallie Deacon run around the backyard spraying a butterfly with wasp spray. Who kills butterflies?
Winnie agrees and rolls her eyes at the notion. “You’re telling me. No offense.”
“None taken.” Payne cuts the space between himself and Winnie. “I heard Jett and Lennon found a place in town to rent while they build. I know you’ve been taking care of his cat and dog since he got here. I figured if anyone will be jonesing for a furball, it would be you.”
Winnie’s eyes widen. “You’re giving me your kitten?”
The little furball lets out a shrill cry when he hands her over to Winnie.
I don’t blame her.
Winnie nuzzles the kitten to her face.
Payne steps back and smiles, like he’s the matchmaker of the century. He’s downright proud of himself. “She’s hardly mine. I just saved her. But do me a favor, don’t tell Carl I gave her to you. He’ll put arsenic in my omelet.”
During this entire exchange, I haven’t uttered another word and continue to be flabbergasted.
So many F words, yet only one simmers beneath the surface bringing back memories that I should not at all be thinking about.
I snap out of my frozen fascination when Payne rests his hands low on his hips to survey his good deed.
“My work here is done. I’ve got the hardest part of my workout ahead of me running up that mountain.
I’ll see you around.” He looks back at me once more.
“It’s a shame you fucked up your Converse. Good luck getting that ketchup out.”
“Thanks for the kitten!” Winnie calls. “I’m going to name her Jayne with a Y—rhymes with Payne!”
Payne turns back and smirks one more time before he exits the diner and disappears down the sidewalk in a jog.
I’m not the only one mesmerized by his fetching exit. Winnie turns to me after the door slams shut with another ring of the bell. “That man has a pep in his step I haven’t seen in years.”
“Meow.”
I frown at the kitten. She has no place in this conversation. She’s probably complaining that her hero didn’t keep her and take her home with him to his mountaintop estate.
Winnie glances down at my feet. “You okay? That dish didn’t cut you did it?”
I finally step back from the mess. “I’m fine. And I’ll pay for the plate. I’m so sorry.”
“Pfft.” She’s too mesmerized by her new pet. “It’s nothing. Once you get that cleaned up, I’m gonna need some help with Jayne. I can’t hold her and hobble around on these damn crutches. I’ll have Carl whip up something for her to eat. I can’t wait to get her home!”
It seems kittens have the memory of a gnat. By the time I get the floor cleaned up and my shoes wiped down, Winnie and Jayne are two peas in a pod. It also might have something to do with the fact Jayne is standing in the middle of a dinner plate nibbling at a scrambled egg.
I lean against the counter and cross my arms. “That was fast. Carl must not mind your new pet?”
Winnie puts her finger over her mouth to shush me and glances back at the kitchen.
“While you were in the back cleaning your shoes, I yelled back and told him I had a hankering for some eggs. I might’ve hidden Jayne in my shirt when he brought them out to me.
We’ve been slipping homemade food to Jett’s pets.
I’ve learned that cats love eggs. I’ll break it to Carl at closing.
He’ll grump about it, but he’ll be fine.
Heck, he’ll probably insist on getting a dog now that I have a kitty! ”
“Let me know if you need anything else—or if I can be of service in hiding Jayne until the end of my shift.”
I get busy cleaning the dining room and behind the bar.
I will barely have time to go home, shower the diner smell off me, and get to the manor.
Even though we don’t perform tonight, Blake and I have ninety minutes to rehearse in The Speakeasy before it opens.
It’s a closed rehearsal, so there’s no way I’ll have to worry about running into Payne for the rest of the day.
I can check that off my list.
Payne
“Ichanged my mind.”
Felicity’s eyes widen in horror.
Devon narrows his from where he sits at the head of the conference table. We’re going over last-minute details of the first ever Deacon Financial, expensive-as-hell, client appreciation weekend.
Felicity places a hand over her heart and looks like I killed her pet.
Little does she know, I save animals. With every word Felicity utters, her tone hitches higher.
“What do you mean, changed your mind? About what? What on earth would you change your mind about now? Everything is set for the weekend.”
“We can adjust things, but it’s too bloody late to cancel, mate.”
“I don’t want to cancel, mate. But you really know how to charm a guy with your Britishisms—accent and everything.”
Devon ignores me and gets to the point. “What do you want to change?”
I pick a piece of invisible lint off my trousers and do my best to save face. “I’ve decided I want to offer a live performance for my clients this weekend.”