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"Not at all," I reply in affirmation, smacking my lips dramatically. "That's half the appeal, you know. If they changed too much, the charm would disappear. I'd be crushed if they ever decided to cmix it up."
"Oh, yeah?" He tips his chin and tilts his head, giving me a curious look. "You're that sentimental, huh?"
I wiggle in my seat and smile smugly, teasing him. "Yeah, I am. Got a problem with that?"
He chuckles, narrowing his eyes, though the look is playful. "No, ma'am. In fact, I find it charming. Somehow, this place suits you. I would like it a whole lot more, though, if you had donned a poodle skirt yourself.”
I choke on my water and burst into laughter. He breaks into a grin, giving a triumphant nod. "Oh, you are the funny one. So clever."
At that moment, the waitress arrives, and as soon as she takes our orders, Deacon gets up and puts a quarter in the jukebox next to the booth. He digs through the selections for just the right song before hitting play.
By the time he returns to the table, I hear the familiar strains of an old classic twangy tune, the slide guitar and bass set overa quick tempo. Instantly, I recognize our class song playing on the speakers. Deacon stands before me, taking my hand and bringing me to my feet. He releases me and then gives me a perfect gentleman's bow.
"Would you care to dance, ma'am?"
What can I do but nod and accept his offer, laughing as he leads me to the dance floor and swings me into his arms. He spins me out and then pulls me in again. And for a moment, it's as if the whole world has melted away, and we're there, alone, together and free. I know I'm making that face that people describe in cheesy romance novels, the one that's breathless and starry-eyed, but I'm too happy to stop.
As the song goes on and he twirls and sways, holding me against him, he looks into my eyes, a goofy, devilish grin plastered on his face. He starts humming the tune and then softly singing along as he leads. His deep voice is strong and gravelly. As his fingers weave between mine and his other hand settles at my hip, I feel lost in him.
He grins, wrapping his arm around my back and dipping me almost to the floor as the song crescendos to the end. There are a couple of hoots and hollers from around the room, and a smattering of applause, making me blush. Deacon takes the applause in stride, bowing in all directions with an air of pride, and just the slightest glint of showmanship.
As I stifle a giggle and go along with him, I shake my head and pull him back into the booth.
"Has anyone ever told you what a ham you are?"
"Several times a year, actually. What are you trying to say?"
I bite my lip and grin. "I hate to sound jealous, but do you do this with all the ladies? Am I just one of many? Because if I am, maybe we need to set some boundaries."
"Just one of many? Hardly," he chuckles. "I haven't been on a date in ages. I haven't given a thought to any other women in a very long time. Not until you. Really. It's... new for me."
"Oh," I whisper, the word barely leaving my lips.
"But let's talk about you this time, shall we? How many hearts have you broken around here since I've been gone?" he asks.
I put a finger to my lips. "Where do I even start? So many… There was Rodney, Matthew, Christopher, Jeffrey, Kevin, Blaine…"
"Blaine? What kind of a name is Blaine?" he laughs.
"That's what you focus on? The last name and not the trail of heartbreaks that came before him. There is no Blaine. And obviously none of the others, either."
"Whew, thank goodness, Harper and Blaine just don't go together."
He takes my hands in his. "But, seriously, who has kissed those beautiful lips before I had a chance to?"
I don't know that I want to tell him, honestly. I'm doing my best to learn to leave the past in the past. "I've only had one serious relationship but you don't know him. He moved to town a few years ago to work at the school. We were together for about eighteen months. I thought he might be the one, but his mother got sick and he moved back home to Alabama to be with her."
He gives my hands a squeeze. "Oh, I'm sorry. That's rough but I won't apologize for being thankful he's gone. I don't want to share you with anyone." There is such a tender intensity to his gaze, it ignites a yearning deep inside me. I am acutely aware in this moment of the strength it takes to maintain self-control.
"So," I say, trying to distract my brain from inappropriate thoughts, "Aside from dancing horribly in restaurants, what else should I know about you? What does grown-up Deacon do with his time? Who is Deacon Reynolds after the sun sets?"
That makes him chuckle a bit, and he sits up, rolling his shoulders. He sips his drink before his eyes flash to me with a glint. "Well, those are good questions. I guess I don't necessarily know who I am outside of being a workaholic and a father."
The grin I give him is soft and understanding. "I hear you on that. I've been so focused on work I sometimes forget there's another side to my life. Maybe we can figure out the rest together. Let's make a deal."
"Okay. I'm listening."
I lean forward, my hair hanging over my shoulders. "Let's start fresh and learn about each other, our grown-up versions. All of it. Every tidbit, every deep dark secret. Everything about our favorite movies and how we take our coffee. All the tiny details that are etched into us and shape us, we should tell each other. That'll help us find ourselves, I bet. And you'll be the first person I tell when I do.”
