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“Yes.” Not just for the burgers.
“So, Deacon, what was that kiss about?” Palmer asks him.
“Can I not kiss my girl?” he asks, setting the plate of burgers next to where I’m sitting on the island. My heart stalls in my chest at his words. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but it wasn’t that.
“Ramsey!” Palmer scolds me. “You didn’t tell me.”
“That’s because I didn’t know,” I counter.
“Deacon?” Palmer asks.
He shrugs. “We’re going on a date next week.”
“That makes her yours?” she asks, barely containing her smile.
His eyes find mine. “That means I want her to be mine. The rest is up to Ramsey.”
“Me?” I croak.
“I won’t take the choice from you. You decide.”
My heart melts into a puddle of goo, and I’m glad I’m still sitting on the island. Why do his words affect me so much? Is this really him? Are the sweet words just a show? How do I know if I can really trust him?
I know the answer to that. I don’t. At least not when it comes to my heart. I’m going to have to take the chance. I’ve never had to worry about losing my heart before. This is new to me.
“Can I just make it known that this was my idea and that your firstborn should be named after me?” Palmer boasts.
“I think one Palmer is all we can handle.” Deacon laughs.
Something flips in my belly. I assumed he would tell her she was crazy and there were no babies in our future, but instead, he just refused the name. Am I in some kind of alternate universe?
“Oh, how many babies are we talking about?” Palmer asks, reaching for the package of hamburger buns and making herself a plate.
I move to hop off the counter, but Deacon is there before I can. He places his hands on my hips and lifts me. “I can handle jumping off the counter,” I tell him, ignoring the catch in my breath.
“Yeah, but then what excuse would I have to put my hands on you?” he asks quietly.
“Do you need an excuse?”
“Not as long as I have your permission.”
“You didn’t ask for permission,” Palmer chimes in. Deacon rolls his eyes, but there is a playful smile tugging at his lips. He lifts me from the counter, and I take a step away from him.
“So, how many?” Palmer asks again.
“Did you get everything out of the fridge?” Deacon asks her.
“Nope. This conversation is too riveting.”
He chuckles and moves to start pulling items out of the fridge. “Ramsey, what do you like on your burger?”
“Oh, um, whatever is fine.”
He stands and pins me with his stare. “I’m going to need your words, sweetheart, and they need to be yours. Your wants, not whatever.”
My heart races. “Mayo, mustard, ketchup,” I reply. My hands are clasped together, waiting for him to tell me that it’s gross and that’s not how a lady eats. That’s for sure what my father and Robert both would have told me. Hell, they wouldn’t let me have a burger. It was salads only.
“There she is.” He winks and goes back to digging in the refrigerator. He rises with his hands full of condiments, as well as a plate of lettuce and tomato. He sets them on the counter and reaches for a plate, handing it to me. “Make yourself a plate.”
Palmer leans into me, bumping her shoulder with mine. “You’ve bewitched my brother,” she teases.
“Stop.” I shake my head at her.
“No, I’m serious. He’s being all sweet and whatnot. I’ve never seen him that way with anyone else. Not unless it was me, our sister, or our mom. What happened while I was gone?”
“Nothing.” I keep my voice low, my eyes darting to where Deacon is pulling chips out of the pantry.
“You’ve been holding out on me.” She gives me a look that tells me I’m not getting out of telling her all the details.
Thankfully, she lets it go, and the three of us sit down to eat. Palmer controls the conversation about the photo shoot, and Deacon and I agree that all the pictures are good for her to use. They’re intimate, but that’s the point of the project.
“We want you to be a success,” I tell her.
“I love you too.” She grins. “Thank you both, really. This was a better outcome than I ever could have expected. Behind the lens, I was excited, but once I started to edit them, I was elated. I can’t wait to start posting them on my social media. This shoot alone is going to boost my career. I can feel it.”
“I’m glad,” Deacon says, tossing his napkin on his now-empty plate.
“It worked out for all of us.” Palmer smirks.
“The images are great. You did a wonderful job.”
“Ah, thanks, bestie.” She grins. “What are we doing the rest of the night?” she asks me.
