CHAPTER NINE
Amelia
My doorbell rings at exactly seven PM on Friday night, and my smile takes over my whole body. I’m so ready for this date. Harper’s at my parents’ for the night, and I’ve picked up every sign of her, because I want a casual, fun relationship. Men tend to get weird as soon as they find out I’m a mom.
At least that’s been my experience the two times I’ve gone out with a man since my divorce. Men see a single mom, and they can’t possibly believe I’m not looking for a daddy for Harper. They can’t imagine I’m not desperately seeking a husband.
I had a husband. He was almost as much work as taking care of Harper is. I’m better off on my own, but try convincing a man of that.
The nerves hit me halfway to the door and nearly knock me over. I pause, hand to chest, and breathe deep. I can do this. I’m going to have fun doing this. So what if it’s been years since I’ve had sex and almost as long since I’ve been on a date with a man I’m actually attracted to?
So what if I still smell vaguely of skunk? Or maybe not so vaguely. It’s possible I’m no longer an accurate judge of my own stench.
I open the door and face Deacon, barely taking time to notice how nicely his dark blue polo stretches over his firm pecs or how amazing his smile is. “Maybe we should call this off. Nobody will want to sit near me in a restaurant.”
“I’m one step ahead of you,” he says, all confidence.
He’s clearly not nervous, probably takes women out on dates all the time.
“It’s too cold for a picnic tonight, so I found a restaurant in town with a private room.
” He holds up a hand like he’s anticipating my next objection.
“Not that I’m saying you stink. Really, you barely smell like skunk at all anymore. ”
“You’re just saying that to be nice.” I can tell because he winced when he said it. The guy’s not a great liar, which is a definite green flag.
He shrugs. “Yeah, I am. But the smell is definitely better than it was two days ago.”
“You sure you want to spend an evening with me?”
He nods. “Nothing I’d rather do. You ready to go?”
I have to admit. It’s pretty nice to meet a guy who’s interested enough to want to go out with me even when I smell like skunk. “All set.”
I step onto the porch and lock the door behind me. I turn, ready to follow him to his truck, but he’s standing close, looking down at me with heat in his eyes. “You look gorgeous tonight.”
I’m just wearing my best jeans and my favorite blouse. I didn’t even spend that much time on my hair. Although I did take the time to put on makeup and my fancy earrings. “Is this dressy enough for where we’re going?”
“You’re perfect.” He says it like he means it.
“You look pretty nice yourself,” I say.
He looks down at himself, brows high. “This old thing? I just took it from the top of the pile of clean clothes.”
I laugh, and he offers me his arm, walking me down the stairs and over to a smaller truck that’s definitely never tailgated me.
He opens my door and helps me up into the truck, and I let him, not because I couldn’t have gotten into the truck myself, but because I assume he’s trying to be romantic and this is a first date.
On the second date, I’ll tell him I’m fully capable of opening my own door. But I appreciate the gesture.
“The longer I’m here, the more I love this town,” Deacon says as he turns from my street onto Main to make the short trip downtown. “I didn’t even know this adorable neighborhood was here until tonight.”
“Is there something special about my neighborhood?” I mean, it’s okay, but I mostly picked it because the house was affordable and I wanted to be close to town. Houses close to town are hard to come by and expensive, but my house is tiny and outdated, so I got a great deal on rent.
It helps that the owner is friends with my dad. But he doesn’t offer me a discount on the rent.
Not that I’d ask.
I also wouldn’t have asked Dad for help with the cat gym. He works in construction, but he’s got a bad back and an unwillingness to stop when he’s in pain.
“It’s a great neighborhood,” he says. “All those old-growth trees, and the houses are classic cottages. It’s unusual to see. That one house on the corner has amazing trim work around the windows and doors.”
“Are you a carpenter? It’s really hard to tell.” Not for the first time, I wonder if he knows HandsyGuy. He’s too young and too beard-less to be the man himself, but in a town this small, don’t all the carpenters know each other?
Dad doesn’t know him - I asked. But Dad’s worked for the same company for decades and doesn’t pay much attention to anyone who doesn’t work for them.
He laughs. “Do you like the neighborhood? Since I’m guessing you don’t care about trim work.”
“My neighbors are nice, and everyone keeps their yards up really well. I have major garden envy of Maura’s place across the street. Did you see her mums?”
“Nope. But I did notice the scrollwork along her eaves.”
“That tracks. I think I notice gardens because I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever taken in. I’ve got some hard-to-kill plants in my sunroom that are doing okay, but I can never achieve a garden like Maura’s.”
“We all have our strengths,” he says, smiling over at me. “You know what I do for a living. How about you?”
I hesitate, and it catches me off guard.
Why do I suddenly feel guilty that I’m about to give Deacon information I’ve denied Handsyguy37?
I shake off the feeling. It’s okay. Deacon’s never going to find out I have a kid, something I let slip to Handsyguy37.
“I work for animal control.” I stop myself before I tell him about the scholarship opportunity.
I’m trying to minimize the number of people who know about it in case I don’t get it.
“Wow,” he says as he parks in the lot next to Vince’s Italian and Barbecue restaurant. “Is it as exciting as it seems?”
“It has its moments,” I say. “And then there are the days where I get sprayed by a skunk and her mate because the owner thought there was a kitten stuck under her house.”
“I did wonder how you got sprayed.” He shifts in his seat to face me. “I thought maybe you were chasing a skunk away from your house or something.”
I gape at him. “What kind of idiot chases a skunk from their house?”
Slowly he raises a hand. “Uh, this kind of idiot. In my defense, the skunk had it out for me.”
“That sounds like a story.”
He nods. “A good story to be told over dinner.” He points at the restaurant. “This place okay? I figured you had to like either Italian or barbecue.”
“I like both. In fact, this is Har—” I stop myself before I say my daughter’s name. “I mean my favorite restaurant.”
He blinks, but doesn’t call me out. “Great.” He opens his door, and I open my door, and he doesn’t do that thing some guys do when they’re trying to be chivalrous and yell at me for getting out of the truck on my own.
He just meets me around the front of the truck and walks with me to the restaurant. He does open the door for me and rests his hand on the small of my back as we step up to the host stand.
I love the feel of his hand against my back, a silent support. I don’t need it, but I love it.
As the host leads us through the restaurant, I wave and smile at several people I know from work or from growing up here. That’s the trouble with working as an animal control officer in a town so small the college doubles our population when it’s in session.
“Wow,” Deacon says after the host seats us in a small, private room with sliding doors. “You didn’t tell me you’re famous.”
I look around the empty, private room with not one, but three tables, the largest of which seats twelve people. “And you didn’t tell me you work for the mafia.”
His brows wrinkle in confusion, even as his lips twist with amusement. “What?”
“I can’t think of any other way you convinced Vince to let us have this room on a Friday night while the college is in session.”
He shakes his head. “I guess you’ll never know.”
I shrug, pretending a nonchalance I don’t feel. My body is tingling with excitement and attraction and withheld laughter. All the best feelings of a first date. It seems bizarre now that I was so nervous before. I feel completely at ease with Deacon.
“I’ll just ask Vince.” I pull out my phone like I’m going to text the owner of the restaurant, but the truth is I don’t know him. I could probably call the restaurant and maybe even get to speak to him, but I doubt he’d answer my questions.
Deacon crosses his arms over his chest and nods at my phone. “Go ahead.”
Damn it. He called my bluff. I pretend to dial, but he laughs, clearly seeing through my ruse.
“He was one of our first customers when we moved to town,” Deacon says. “I promised him some work for free if he could give us this room.”
I drop my phone back into my purse. “Wow, you must do really good work.”
He smiles, revealing mostly straight, white teeth, with just one crooked tooth. I want to touch that tooth with my tongue.
The thought shocks me, and I fumble with my napkin, unrolling it to place my fork and knife on the table.
“You just blushed,” Deacon says. “Where did your mind go?”
I swallow hard. If I were another woman, I’d tell him I’m thinking about kissing him, but the last time I seriously dated I was in high school. Not that Deacon and I are serious. We’re fun and casual with an expiration date.
Damn, I’m bad at this. I should just tell him what I’m thinking.
“Why did you move to Catalpa Creek?” I ask instead.
His smile widens. “That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I have a very good imagination.”
His smug tone should annoy me, but all I want to do is crawl onto his lap and taste his smile.
The server comes in and takes our order. I haven’t even looked at the menu, but I’ve eaten here often enough to know what I want. I order the seafood pasta. Deacon orders a barbecue sandwich with hush puppies.
“My family lived here when I was a kid,” Deacon says. “My brothers and I moved back here for family. It’s a great town.”
It takes me a moment to switch gears. I’d been expecting him to flirt with me some more. Did I ruin the mood? No, this is good. Getting to know him is good.
“How old are you? Maybe we were in school together.”
“I’m twenty-seven. We left when I was ten.”
“Ah,” I say, oddly disappointed. “I’m two years younger than you. I didn’t hang out with older boys back then.”
“I’m very glad you hang out with them now,” he says, the flirty tone returning.
“So am I.” I try to mimic his tone, but it feels weird.
It must come across okay, though, because he smiles. “Have I mentioned that you look beautiful tonight?”
Ugh, he’s basically requesting more flirting.
I sigh, because as much as I want to, I just can’t pretend to be someone I’m not.
“I really like you,” I say. “You’re handsome and sweet, and I’m really enjoying this dinner, but you should know I’m not good at this.
I don’t know if I’ve ever been good at flirting, and it’s been a while since I’ve dated anyone for…
reasons. I’m sorry I’m not better at this, but I really do want to kiss you. ”
He stares at me, eyes wide like he’s shocked, and my heart sinks. I was too honest, too blunt, and he’s turned off.
His smile blooms slow over his face and when it reaches his eyes, they heat. “I like your brand of flirting.” He gets up and walks over to my side of the small table, sitting in the chair next to mine and scooting it closer. “I really want to kiss you, too.”
All my nerves return in an instant. I’m twenty-five years old, so why does a simple kiss still cause this level of nerves? “Right now? Our food will probably be here soon.”
His smile is teasing. “I think we have time for a quick kiss, but if you’ve changed your mind—”
I grab his strong-jawed face and yank him toward me. I press my lips to his and he opens immediately, his tongue darting out to touch my lips.
It’s been too long since I’ve kissed a man, and much longer since I’ve kissed a man who knows how to kiss. Deacon really knows how to kiss.
I forget where we are. I forget that I smell like skunk, and I sink into that kiss. He grips the back of my head in a way that is so romantic and sexy and comforting all at the same time it brings tears to my eyes.
I don’t actually cry or anything, but my eyes are definitely damp.
And my eyes aren’t the only part of me that’s getting wet. I thread my fingers through Deacon’s soft hair and—
“The seafood pasta for you,” the server says.
I jerk away from Deacon so hard my neck twinges in protest.
“Um, thank you,” I say, my gaze on the plate of steaming food in front of me, because I am definitely not looking the server in the eyes.
Deacon gets up and goes back to his own seat as the server sets his barbecue sandwich in front of him.
“Maybe we should open a window,” I say after the server has left.
Deacon looks up from his sandwich. “Why?”
“I’m assuming you don’t want to admit it, but you moved back to the other side of the table to get away from my smell.”
His mouth ticks up on one side. “I don’t even notice your smell anymore. I think I’ve acclimated.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”
“I’m not. I moved back to the other side of the table because the view’s better over here.” He stares at me like he means it.
Oh. Oh, that’s really sweet. “Okay. That’s very, um, nice of you to say. But if the smell does bother you, I won’t be offended if you want to let the room air out a bit.”
“It’s not a problem,” he says. “But I promise I’ll let you know if it becomes one. I don’t hesitate when it comes to asking for what I want.”
I’m melting in a puddle of lust for this man. And my smile is probably goofy as hell. And I don’t care. This is the most fun I’ve had in years.