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“What about you?” Orrin’s eyes hold mine.
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” I admit. “I mean, if she got a shot where my face is all messed up from a silly laugh or something, I’d probably ask her not to share that.” Deacon’s eyes bore into mine, and I hope he understands what I’m saying. I’m not upset about the outcome of the photo shoot.
“Nice,” Brooks says, draining the rest of his beer.
“Palmer is really talented. I’m sure the pictures are going to turn out great.” I’m not just saying that to be saying it. My best friend is talented as hell, and I can’t wait to see the end result.
“How long is your break?” I can feel Deacon’s eyes on me as he asks the question.
“Thirty minutes.” I look across the table at him, and he nods at my mozzarella sticks.
“You better eat something.” His voice is soft, but it also feels like there might be a concern there.
“Yeah, these are getting cold.” I pick up a mozzarella stick and dip it into the barbeque sauce.
“Is that barbeque sauce?” Deacon leans forward to get a better look at my plate.
“Yes.” Again, I feel my face flush. “It’s good. You want to try it?” I offer him the mozzarella stick I just dunked, and to my surprise, he leans just a little further over the table and opens his mouth.
On instinct, I place it in his mouth, and he takes a bite, sitting back while he chews. “Not bad.” He smiles at me.
“Right?” I dip the remainder of the mozzarella stick back into the barbeque sauce before taking my own bite.
“You share food with just anyone?” Orrin’s voice is thick, and unease settles over me. The last thing I want is this attraction I feel toward Deacon to come between their friendship.
“No. But Deacon isn’t just anyone.” He’s the guy I can’t stop thinking about. He’s also the one who was kissing the hell out of me just a few hours ago. “He’s my best friend’s brother and your best friend.”
“You don’t know him,” Orrin counters.
“Sure I do. He’s Deacon.” I shrug like it’s not a big deal.
Thankfully Brooks changes the subject by talking about something to do with his car. Declan jumps right into the conversation. I can feel Orrin’s stare, and even though I don’t want to, I turn to look at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you okay, Ramsey?”
I smile at him. It’s not fake or forced. It’s genuine. “I’m good, O. I promise.” I don’t dare look at Deacon, but I want to. Instead, I focus on eating the rest of my mozzarella sticks and listening to my cousins talk about cars.
“I should get back to work,” I say a few minutes later. I stand and gather my now-empty basket and my cup of Dr Pepper. “I’ll see you guys later.” I wave to the table. I don’t make eye contact with any of them before turning on my heel and rushing back to the kitchen. I toss my trash and place the red plastic basket back on the shelf before clocking back in.
Hank looks down at his watch and then smiles. I shake my head at him as I jump back into filling orders. The weekends are usually busy, but tonight takes that to an all-new level. I’m slinging drinks left and right, singing along to the jukebox when I see him approach the bar.
“Hey.”
“Ramsey,” Deacon greets me.
“What can I get you?” I’m proud I’m able to keep my voice calm.
“How about some of that root beer that Hank makes?”
“It’s so good,” I tell him, grabbing a glass from the freezer, adding some ice, and filling it with Hank’s homemade root beer. “Here you go.” I slide the glass across the bar toward him. “Three dollars.”
“Thanks.” He hands me a twenty and turns to walk away.
“Deacon!” I call out. He stops and turns to look at me. “You forgot your change.” I hold up the twenty, letting him know he gave me such a large bill.
“That’s yours.”
“No.” I shake my head vehemently. “That’s too much.”
His golden eyes study me before he replies, “You’re worth it.” He winks, turns, and walks away.
The Tavern is loud as hell, but his words hit me as if they were screamed. I stand frozen in time, replaying his words over and over in my mind.
“Hey.” An arm lands on my shoulder, causing me to jump. “You good?” Chance, a fellow bartender, asks.
“Yeah. Yes. I’m good.” I nod. I shake out of my Deacon trance and get back to work. I try like hell not to think about him, but it’s hard not to. Not after the photo shoot and then tonight. I know nothing can come of this… whatever it is, I’m feeling for him. It’s just because he was nice to me, and technically, my first kiss, the first I approved of anyway. That has to be it. I just need to finish the night and go home and get some rest. Everything will be better after that.
