“Atticus is a therapy dog, so he accompanies me to school.” At Deacon’s frown, I replied, “I didn’t want to waste time by dropping him off at my house. However, if you would prefer I didn’t bring him, I’ll be a little later.”
“I suppose it’s fine.”
“If it makes any difference, Willow will be thrilled to see him. She really loved having him in class.”
Deacon grunted. “I’m aware of that.”
“You are?”
Jabbing a finger at Atticus, Deacon said, “He’s the reason why I got her a puppy.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Anyway, I’m glad to see you.”
“You are?” I questioned, unable to hide my surprise.
Was he implying what I thought he was? Was I going to have to set him straight that while flattered, we would only ever have a working relationship?
“Yeah, Willow’s been pestering the hell out of me all day about when you would get here.”
“Oh,” I murmured.
The shit-eating grin that stretched across Deacon’s face caused warmth to flood my cheeks. I stared down at the floor, silently willing it to open up and swallow me and my embarrassment.
Deacon’s finger on my chin caused me to jump. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me coming on to you, Miss Evans.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that,” I murmured.
“But don’t think it’s because of something decent within my character. You’re not my type.”
I sputtered with indignation at his words. “That’s good to hear since you’re most certainly not my type either.”
Deacon merely grinned. “You know Rev told me to tread easy when it came to you. He thinks you’re some delicate little flower I could crush. But he’s wrong.”
“Is that right?”
He nodded. “You’re a tough little thing when you have to be.”
“Life has done that to me,” I replied, before I could stop myself.
“Doesn’t it to everyone?”
The tone of his words surprised me. I realized that within his statement there was insight to Deacon’s own character. I couldn’t help wondering what life had done to him. But I had the feeling I would come closer to unearthing a buried treasure in my backyard than learning Deacon’s secrets.
“I appreciate you meeting me today.” I stared pointedly at him. “I hope I’m not taking you away from your job.”
“No, you’re not.”
“What is it that you do exactly?”
Motioning his hand to the pawn shop, Deacon’s lips curled in a smirk. “I would think my profession as an entrepreneur would be evident.”
“Yes, but it’s the type of businesses that you own that concerns me. After all, Ed Wigington, who owns the tire shop, doesn’t have to keep his son home from my class.”
“I co-own the pawn shop with my brothers along with Raiders Gym downtown.”
“That’s the one where boxers and MMA fighters train.”
