CHAPTER SIX
Deacon
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I’m loading the last of my tools into my truck. I’ve been working late to get the cabinets installed for the Brockmans, and I’m dead on my feet and starving.
I’m having the wrong kind of feelings for my brother’s woman. The wrong kind of feelings about a woman I’ve never met.
It’s a sign that I’m long past due for a romance of my own. By which I mean a fling or a one-night stand. I am not about getting seriously involved right now. Maybe not ever.
A romantic relationship is just another person to let down, another person who wants to discuss feelings, or analyze why you keep arguing about the same shit over and over again.
It’s not for me.
I get in my truck and start it up. I need to cruise through a drive-through, get some food, and hit the gym before I run entirely out of steam.
Instead, I check the message.
DogPerson158: I got a cat.
That makes me laugh, and she didn’t even tell a joke. I’m just so delighted to be hearing from her.
Handsyguy37: That seems problematic for a dog person.
DogPerson158: I can’t handle a dog right now, so I’m a cat person. I can’t change my username, but please call me CatPerson158 now when you think of me.
Handsyguy37: Deal. What’s the cat like?
DogPerson158: Considering I just spent the past hour cleaning up the mess he made while I was out, he’s a terror. He’s also sitting next to me and purring right now, so I adore him.
Handsyguy37: That’s the problem with pets. They’re too darn adorable to be angry at for long.
DogPerson158: Too bad I don’t feel the same way about humans.
Handsyguy37: You saying that as an in general thing, or did you have a rough day?
This is a step away from our light banter, but I want to know more about her. Maybe find a reason to dislike her.
DogPerson158: Both? Apparently, I’m not friendly enough when interacting with the public.
Oh, she is a perfect match for Sebastian.
Handsyguy37: Who cares what the public thinks?
DogPerson158: I kind of have to. In order to get a big promotion I want, I need to learn to be friendly. Even to jerks. Got any tips?
I lean back and drop my phone onto the passenger seat. People don’t ask me for advice. I’m the fun one. I will sometimes play up that image to break tension in a situation. It has led more than a few people to think I’m not very bright.
My brothers know differently, but even they don’t ask me for advice.
I’m not up to this task.
My stomach growls, reminding me I’m starving. I cannot give advice on an empty stomach, but I also can’t leave DogPerson158 hanging.
If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s to be charming. I can handle this. Except she’s got a promotion riding on this, I can’t screw it up.
This is exactly why I don’t do relationships.
I pick up the phone and realize my chest is tight with anxiety. I don’t like this feeling at all.
Handsyguy37: Let me think on it. I’m going to grab some dinner. Be in touch soon.
I drop my phone back on the passenger seat and head out. There is no way I have the energy to go home and cook something, but fast food isn’t really what I want either.
If I want a good dinner, the only option is to stop and actually get out of my truck. Tate’s Diner on Main Street has become my go-to for nights like this since I moved to town.
The place is busy tonight. Instead of going up to the counter to get something to go, I head toward the tables, because I don’t want to go home and be with my brothers. Most nights, I’m looking forward to seeing my family, but living with them constantly is starting to grate on my nerves.
Plus, I need to be alone to figure out how to word my advice to DogPerson158.
I manage to find a small, two-person booth in the far back corner that’s free, and I sit, take out my phone, and stare at it.
Maybe it’s time for Sebastian to step in.
He gives advice all the time. He’d tell DogPerson158 that she doesn’t need to be friendly.
She just needs to be upfront, honest, and do good work.
No, he’d be blunter than that. He’d probably tell her if the only thing standing between her and a promotion is that she needs to smile more and kiss ass, she should find another job.
He can get away with that kind of behavior because he works in construction, and it’s what people expect. Plus, Ryland does most of the dealing with clients.
And if DogPerson158 gets that kind of advice, she’ll end this conversation before she even has the chance to get to know Sebastian and fall in love.
I need to butter her up first by being kind and caring, so when she meets Sebastian she’ll be able to look beneath his rough exterior to…
Well, I don’t actually know if there’s anything underneath the exterior.
But if there is, she’ll be more willing to look for it.
Or at least willing to put up with his shitty attitude long enough to get him to have some fun.
I blow out a breath, open up the match app, and hit the messages.
“You’re overthinking this, Melly,” a woman says loudly, phone to her ear as she slides into the next set of booths, her back to me. “He probably got busy. You didn’t scare off a man you’ve never even met by telling him a detail about your personal life. That’s not how people work.”
She pauses, and I focus on the app, considering what to say next.
“I’m telling you, honey. Just go out, find an attractive man, and sex him up.”
The diners around us hush their conversations and turn to look at the woman. I notice her earrings are shaped like books.
“Oops,” she says. “That was way too loud. Sorry, everyone. I’ll be quieter.”
“No problem, Ellery,” someone shouts from somewhere in the diner.
Ellery. I’ve heard that name before somewhere. Could be one of Levi’s friends or my Weston cousins might have mentioned her. She’s definitely no shrinking violet.
“Nobody knows I’m talking to you, Melly,” Ellery says. “I’m being quieter now. Fine, I’ll stop by later and bring you some pie. Just quit worrying and think about what I said.”
She ends the call, and another woman walks over and slides into the booth across from her with a smile.
I return my attention to my own phone, since Ellery has gotten so quiet now she’s not disturbing me.
Funny how people will talk so much louder on a phone in a public place than they will face to face.
“Hi, there,” a server who looks to be sixteen, her hair half blond and half black, smiles at me. “Sorry it took me so long to get over here. Everyone wanted to close their checks at the same time.”
“No problem,” I say. “I’ll have the meatloaf with mashed potatoes and a strawberry milkshake.”
“Coming right up,” she says before stepping up to the next table. “Hey, Ellery. Lennox. What can I get you?”
I’ve put off answering way too long, so I force myself to stop overthinking it and type the first thing that pops into my head.
HandsyGuy37: I find the best way to make someone smile is a compliment.
She doesn’t respond right away. That was an idiotic suggestion. I’m terrible at giving advice.
DogPerson158: I’m not sure that works in, um, my line of work.
HandsyGuy37: It works in every line of work.
Are you a superhero? You save the person from a speeding train, and you don’t just set them down and go on your way.
You compliment their shoes or that they stayed calm in the moment of crisis.
Are you an undertaker? That’s a tough one, but you can totally compliment them on their taste in coffins or tell them how kind they are to put so much thought into arranging their loved one’s funeral.
Even if you’re something like a rodeo clown, you could compliment the bull on his sharp, sharp tusks.
DogPerson158: I am not a rodeo clown. And they’re horns, like grab the bull by the horns.
HandsyGuy37: It’s okay if you mess up the compliment and use the wrong word.
That gives the other person a chance to explain themselves to you.
Making another person feel good is really about the other person, not you.
Lead with curiosity and focus on what you’d like to know about them or what you immediately like about them.
Compliments lead to connection, a sense of being in something together, and that’s all anyone wants.
She doesn’t say anything. Shit.
HandsyGuy37: I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. I work with the public daily, and I guess it just comes naturally to me to be a goofball and not give up until I get a smile.
DogPerson158: No, that was really good. I’m literally taking notes.
That makes me feel like a fucking king.
HandsyGuy37: You’re messing with me.
DogPerson158: Not even a little. I’m trying this tomorrow.
HandsyGuy37: Let me know how it goes.
The server delivers my food, and I set my phone to the side. I’m good with the conversation ending there. Things can only go downhill from that high.
But my phone chimes with a message just as I’m taking a big bite of meatloaf.
DogPerson158: What I want to know is, were there really 36 other people who already had the username HandsyGuy?
I laugh so loudly that the woman with the book earrings turns in her seat and smiles at me. She has a friendly smile. I give her a little wave and point at my phone.
She nods, waves back, and returns to dinner with her friend.
Handsyguy37: No, I’m thirty-seven. There were no other handsyguys, which probably should have been my first clue I’d made a mistake typing in my username.
DogPerson158: You’re twelve years older than me? Are we even in the same generation?
Handsyguy37: Is that a problem? Didn’t you see my age on my profile?
A part of me hopes it is a problem, because I’m only twenty-seven and I would love to be able to step in if Sebastian is too old for her. Of course, then I’d have to explain that I’ve been lying to her, at least about my age and most of the interests listed on my profile.
She’d understand that, right? Maybe even appreciate what a good brother I am.