by Juliette Poe
Larkin’s eyebrows draw inward. “That’s mean. I don’t think you’re shiftless at all. I’d say you have a free spirit that’s tempered with a solid base of responsibility.”
“Funny. I’d say the same about you.”
Larkin snorts, giving a slight shake of her head. “I’m about as far away from free spirited as you can get.”
“Says the woman who got on the back of a Harley with a virtual stranger.”
Larkin laughs, eyes darting around once again. I had no qualms about bringing her into this place in the bright light of day, but I wouldn’t bring her in at night. Not when the drinking got serious, the men would be crude, and the women provoking.
But I’m enjoying the beer and our talk, and I don’t want our day to end so quickly as the bottoms of our mugs draw nearer.
“Want another beer?” I ask.
Larkin’s lips purse. “Well, I do, but not if you can’t have one too. I have an idea, though.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m feeling more free-spirited than normal, and I wouldn’t mind having a few more beers. How about we go back to Whynot to have a beer at Chesty’s?”
It’s a great idea, and I say so. We finish our drinks, she bids a polite farewell to Wolf, and we step into the sunny warmth of outdoors.
It’s just before I hand her the helmet that I make sure she understands one thing about my free-spirited, nomadic lifestyle, and I want her to know before more alcohol gets involved.
“I’ve met more people than I could ever hope to remember in my travels,” I say as I watch her place the helmet on her head.
She smiles as she fumbles with the strap. I push her hands away and take over the task, looping the leather through the buckle, securing it safely onto her head.
Looking down at her, I move my fingers from the strap to her chin. “But I’ve never met anyone like you, Larkin Mancinkus. You make this nomad want to stay in Whynot for just a little bit longer than normal.”
I take a nominal amount of joy in the blush to her fair skin before bending to kiss her. She gasps in surprise as my lips touch hers, but she doesn’t pull away when I linger there. It’s an awesome kiss, but I make it brief. I find myself wanting to take things very slowly with Larkin, like a surprise I want to savor unwrapping. I have no plans to be anywhere at any particular time, so why not hang around for a while and get to know this woman?
CHAPTER 8
Larkin
“Laken,” I whisper into my phone, leaving a message for my twin sister. “I need you to come down to Chesty’s.”
My eyes cut around the bathroom as I lean against the locked door to continue my message. “I’ve been here all afternoon with Deacon, and now the sun is setting. And, well, things happen at night, and I think I might be slightly drunk. Should I just like… I don’t know? Go all the way tonight with him? I’m fairly sure all my inhibitions are left at the bottom of the beer bottles I’ve drained. Like… will you think I’m a total tramp if I do? I need to know, because I’m obviously going to tell you all about it tomorrow. If you think—”
I get a long beep, indicating my voice mail has been cut off.
“Damn it,” I curse, jabbing at the disconnect button on my phone. How am I supposed to know what to do without Laken’s sage advice? I mean… she’s the wild, sexy, and adventurous one. She would know exactly what to do in this situation.
I review the scenario before me.
1. I’ve had five beers by my count since we arrived at Chesty’s. Granted, it’s been over several hours and I’ve been drinking water, too. Oh, and I shared a frozen pizza with Deacon, which we liberally doused with hot sauce first. Still… I’m inebriated.
2. There’s attraction. He kissed me outside of Wolf’s. While we’ve played pool and darts all afternoon, I could tell he wanted to kiss me again.
3. But he didn’t, because Pap has been here most of the afternoon and Deacon is being respectful.
4. On top of that, Deacon and Pap are getting along very well. They’ve been talking Marine Corps stuff in between the games of pool and darts, and I can tell Pap likes him.
5. Which puts a whole unique spin on things, because Pap is no dummy, so he has most likely discerned I really like Deacon too, and oh God… does he know I’m considering sleeping with him tonight?
6. This is getting way too weird, and I’ve been in the bathroom a long time fretting over this. What if Deacon thinks I’ve got stomach issues, which is not sexy at all. In fact…
7. He’s probably contemplating how to end the evening without hurting my feelings and without having to give me and my nasty nonexistent stomach problems a good night kiss.
8. Which means—
Someone starts pounding on the bathroom door hard, and I let out a shriek of surprise as I jolt away from it.
“Come on, Larkin,” a female voice cries out in what sounds like full-bladder distress. I recognize it as Lynette Carnes, the town floozy, who has been overtly flirting with Deacon all afternoon. “I’ve really got to pee.”
I should make her suffer for being so crass as to flirt with my afternoon date right in front of me, but in all fairness, Deacon never paid her any mind. He was polite when she first introduced herself and bent slightly to show off her cleavage, but past that, his eyes and attention were only on me or Pap for the entire day.
Reaching out, I turn the lock and open the door. Lynette sneers, pushing past me as I exit the bathroom. She mutters, “You shouldn’t leave someone that fine alone for long. His interest is going to go elsewhere.”
“You shouldn’t go out in public with only half of one of your eyebrows painted on,” I say sweetly, getting a satisfied glimpse of her lunging toward the mirror to check out her face before the bathroom door swings shut.
I make my way through the thick crowd. Saturday afternoon is a popular socializing time at Chesty’s, and it will only get busier as the night wears on.
Pap is sitting on his normal stool at the end of the long bar. Deacon is still where I left him before I went into the women’s bathroom to call Laken for advice. He hovers behind the stool that sits perpendicular to Pap’s, saving it for me. We were sharing it as we played pool, talked to Pap, or ate a pizza. It’s our stool, and Deacon’s eyes lock on to mine as I walk toward him. His lips curl slightly at the edges, a subtle way of saying he likes seeing me come his way.
Before I reach him, my mind quickly ponders my situation with Deacon. I take an educated guess as to what Laken would have told me had she answered her dang phone.
She would have said, “Go for it, Larkin. Grab that bull by the horns and have some fun.”
Or something like that.
She’d never think me a tramp for taking a walk on the wild side, since she so frequently chides me that I’m quite the dud sometimes.
Pap’s eyes also come to me, cut to Deacon briefly, then settle back my way. “You two want another beer? On me.”
I defer to my date, because while I’m fairly sure he’s going to end up in my bed or vice versa tonight, I want him making the decisions.
Deacon smiles at me, then turns his attention to Pap. He sticks his hand out for Pap to shake. “As much as I’d love to stay, I’ve actually got plans in the morning, so I’m going to see your granddaughter home safely and call it an early night.”
Hmm.
Is that truth or code for I’m going to see your granddaughter to her bed?
“Good to have met you,” Pap says, giving him a gripping handshake. Despite being eighty-three, Pap’s still mighty strong, and I can see the respect in Deacon’s face.
Leaning in, I give him a kiss on his leathery cheek. “Night, Pap. See you tomorrow at supper.”
“Night, honey,” he replies, patting me on the shoulder. He then addresses Deacon. “Not sure if Larkin invited you, but you should come to supper tomorrow night. It’s a Sunday tradition for the Mancinkus clan. I know Jerry, my son, would like to meet you.”
I blanch not only over the
fact it had not crossed my mind to invite Deacon to a family gathering, but also because I can hear it in Pap’s voice… He thinks there’s something serious going on between Deacon and me.
Before I can even dissuade the notion of Deacon coming to meet my entire family, he’s beaming at Pap and graciously accepting. “I’d love to, George.”
George? Who’s George?
I’m so flummoxed over the fact Deacon is eating supper at my family home tomorrow that it takes me a minute to realize he’s calling Pap by his first name. Which is weird. Everyone calls him Pap, even non-family members.
But then again… Deacon isn’t everyone.
“Ready to go, Larkin?”
I startle as I’m brought back to my most-pressing issue. What to do with Deacon tonight?
“Sure,” I say a little too brightly, and had I just slurred that word?
Deacon nods to Pap before taking my hand, leading me through the crowd to the exit. We’re no more than five steps from the door when Lynette Carnes steps right in front of us, having the audacity to put her palm on Deacon’s impressively built chest upon which his black Harley T-shirt is expertly molded.
“Aah,” Lynette simpers as she bats her eyelashes at Deacon. “You’re not leaving already, are ya? I thought we’d play a game of pool.”
Ordinarily, I’d be having all sorts of self-doubts about now. Wouldn’t Deacon prefer someone like Lynette who is sexy and totally loose in her ways? I mean, comparatively, she’s more of what men lust after.
But the beer flowing in my veins seems to bolster my confidence, and I gently take her wrist and very deliberately remove her hand from my man’s—I mean, my date’s—chest.
“He’s not interested, Lynette,” I say, internally cringing over how catty I sound. That’s definitely not my style, but I can’t back down now. “Tramp just doesn’t do it for him.”
Lynette’s face flames red, her lips peel up in an ugly snarl as she takes a step toward me. Deacon gallantly positions himself between us, his arm now going around my waist.
Chuckling, he says, “Okay now… let’s get you home, Larkin, before you start a brawl in here.”
Lynette curses at me. I’m feeling a bit angry Deacon feels the need to “handle” me, but truly… I need handled. I’m totally not up to fighting Lynette as I’d get my butt stomped good.
So I let Deacon lead me out of Chesty’s, where the cool air hits my face and provides a slight, sobering effect.
“I’m sorry,” I say as the door swings shut behind us. “I’ve never called a woman a name like that before in my life.”
Deacon laughs, taking my hand again. “It’s adorable.”
That mollifies me, so I follow his lead as we cross South Wright Street to the courthouse square. We had parked his bike at my house, which sits just a few blocks east of Chesty’s, past the courthouse square, and over the railroad tracks, two blocks down Wilmington Street. A simple ten-minute walk.
Plenty of time to figure out exactly how this night should end.
Just as we near the sidewalk on the far side of the courthouse, a large figure steps out from the shadows of an oak tree.
While I’m not put out by the man carrying a shotgun who stands before us, Deacon immediately pushes me behind him in a protective manner.
“You okay, Larkin?” the hulking figure—who I recognize as Floyd Wilkie—asks me.
I lean to the left, smiling at the man. Floyd Wilkie owns the hardware store, which sits in between Millie’s Bed and Breakfast and Central Cafe. I have no clue his actual age, but somewhere in the mid- to-late sixties, I’d guess. He’s taller than Deacon, which makes him in the freakily tall range with a big barrel chest, slightly larger belly, and a frazzled gray beard that flows down over both.
It’s probably disconcerting enough to Deacon that Floyd appeared out of the shadows to confront us, but the shotgun he’s holding at an angle across his chest—muzzle pointed up and not down—that has Deacon’s body locked and ready to spring into action to confront this unknown danger.
“Hi, Floyd,” I say as I try to step around Deacon. Without taking his eyes off what I’m sure he perceives to be a threat, Deacon’s arm comes out to stop me and he pushes me back.
This amuses Floyd, but rather than tilt his gun down, he keeps it in place. He locks eyes with Deacon, then puffs his chest out a little. “Larkin… you’re walking through town with a strange man. Need to make sure you’re okay and haven’t been taken against your will.”
It’s at this point it dawns on Deacon that Floyd is not a threat to me, and I can feel his entire presence relax. His arm falls to his side, which allows me to step forward.
“I’m fine, Floyd. This is Deacon. He’s staying at Millie’s for a while. We’ve been hanging out at Chesty’s, and now he’s walking me home.”
Floyd grunts an acknowledgment and lowers the point of his rifle, his gaze never leaving Deacon’s face. “You take good care of her,” he orders.
“That was my plan,” Deacon replies blandly. “Pleasure to meet you, though.”
Floyd nods, then throws his thumb over his shoulder. “That’s my hardware store back there. Anything you need… you see me, ya hear?”
“Got it,” Deacon says with a smile. With my hand in his, he leads me across Walker Street, where we turn north at the sidewalk. This leads us right past Central Cafe, The Reader’s Nook, and, finally, Floyd’s, which is simply called Floyd’s Hardware. Deacon swivels to look inside the storefront windows as we walk past, but the inside is so dark nothing is visible.
“Interesting fellow,” he remarks. “What is he? Like the town guardian or something?”
“Pretty much,” I say. “For as long as I can remember, Floyd’s always patrolled the town square with his gun.”
“He’s no country bumpkin, though.”
It surprises and delights me to hear him say it, because that means Deacon not only doesn’t judge people on outward appearance, but he also seems to have an open insight few possess. “No, he’s not. In fact, one of his closest friends is a drag queen and he goes to watch his shows in Raleigh.”
Laughing, Deacon asks me to tell him more. So as we turn up Wilmington Street and cross the railroad tracks, I do. My hand is secure in his, and I forget what will come when we reach my front door. I tell him about Morri and how he’s best friends with Mely and visits frequently from New York. That leads me into the story of how Mely and my brother Lowe fell in love, in a vicious battle over our family ancestral home in town, Mainer House. Mely had bought it to renovate, then Lowe boarded up all the doors and windows, defending the borders with his own shotgun.
When we reach my house, there’s no hesitation in Deacon’s stride. He marches those long legs up my porch steps, leading me right along with him. My heart starts hammering, and my weird mind already leaps ahead to sunrise and whether I should wake up earlier than him to brush my teeth to rid myself of morning breath before we kiss good morning.
Deacon brings both his hands to my shoulders, then peers down at me. His expression is sweet and earnest. “I had a great time with you today, Larkin.”
“Me too.” My words are breathless, and I feel like a schoolgirl.
“Make sure to lock up tight once you’re inside.” His voice is deep and gruff, and it makes me all melty.
“Okay,” I sigh. When he smiles at me, what he just said finally hits me. “Wait. Aren’t you coming in?”
This amuses Deacon, as evidenced by the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. “Not tonight.”
“But…” I blurt out my opposition. “I thought… I mean…”
My words trail off. As my mind flits over every scene of us together today—from the time he picked me up at my house on his big motorcycle until this moment—I realize he’s done nothing to indicate he wants to sleep with me. In fact, he’s been a perfect gentleman.
My face flushes hot with embarrassment over my assumption.
My completely inaccurate assumption t
hat something more than a polite goodnight would take place.
Deacon leans toward me. Puts his face mere inches from mine so I am sucked deep into his blue eyes. There’s no amusement there now. He’s not smiling. “Make no mistake. I want to come in with you. Want it more than anything I can remember wanting in an exceptionally long time. But you’ve had way too much alcohol, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to worry about you having regrets tomorrow.”
“But I wouldn’t,” I rush to assure him.
He places a finger on my lips, effectively shutting me up. “Glad to hear it. But I want to hear those words when you’re sober. So until that time…”
He slants his mouth over mine, and I love the feel of his beard tickling at the corners of my mouth. This isn’t the sweet kiss he gave me at Wolf’s earlier today, but rather a deep, searing mating of lips and tongue with his hands now on my face to hold me in place. I lean completely into him, my hands clutching at his hips, and I know darn well if he came inside with me tonight, my world would be rocked and I wouldn’t have a single regret.
But Deacon is in charge. Since he said not tonight, I’m okay with that too.
CHAPTER 9
Larkin
Diary Entry
Sunday
December 23rd
Dear Diary,
Just a few jotted notes this morning as I missed yesterday.
Good reason, too. Deacon Locke.
Yesterday, he took me for a ride on his Harley to a bar in Milner. Then we came back and hung out at Chesty’s all afternoon. I got a little toasted and despite the fact he had as many beers as me, he didn’t seem affected at all.
Regardless, he walked me home and left me with nothing but an electric goodnight kiss.
Here’s the secret diary…there will be more than a kiss coming. I’m quite sure that’s guaranteed.
However, now I have to rush out the door. The morning maid called in sick at Millie’s, so I have to go cover. I cannot wait for Lowe and Mely to return home, so I can get back to putting my attention on the bakery, while just handling the food services at the bed and breakfast. Cleaning toilets has never been a career aspiration, especially when I am slightly nauseated from my hangover.
