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Adam stared at him. “Dude.”
There was minimal inflection in the word. Was it praise? Disbelief? Something else?
“Dude.” Deacon shrugged.
Adam shook his head. “Don’t do that. Don’tBaseketballme.”
I assumed he meant the movie.
“You started it, and when was I going to tell you?” Deacon asked. “Today has been insane.” He looked at me. “Not that I plan on running around telling the world. What happened is between you and me.”
Which I understood, but also, I felt like I wasn’t quite part of this conversation. “He’s your best friend. I get it.” I wasn’t going to be the clingy person who didn’t understand the meaning ofwe’re just friends. Travis did that to me, once upon a time. And had the nerve to tell me he invested all that time in our friendship, so I owed him at least one date.
“And now that the room knows about last night, what are we doing in the basement?”
I winced at the phrasing of my question, because I wanted to follow it with,More of what we did last night?
“I can’t make changes like this without a plan.” Deacon really did have this under control. “Especially not if Travis has set his sights on the shop. Let’s finalize your plans.”
We dug through the details of what we needed to do, and the conversation shifted to dry details for a while.
“Do you think he’s jealous?” Adam asked out of nowhere.
“Who?” Deacon sounded puzzled.
But I had a pretty good idea. “Travis.”
“Of the basement.” Adam worked up a model on his laptop of the proposed work while we talked.
Deacon shook his head. “Because he needs more kink in his life?”
“Probably.” My answer slipped out before I could consider it. Like I was one to talk.
Adam tapped a series of keys, made a few mouse clicks, and sat back to show us the screen. “But also because he’s a basement dweller, and that’s a kick ass basement.”
I laughed. “I don’t have an argument. Zero.”
“I dunno. I know some pretty nice basement dwellers. It feels like an affront to them to lump them in the same category.” Deacon leaned in to flip through Adam’s work. “This is perfect. Let’s do it.”
“We can start bringing in supplies first thing in the morning.” I already had a list in my head of what I needed from my workshop. “My tools won’t fit in my car, though.”
“I have that problem all the time.” Deacon’s voice was light mixed with an exaggerated smoothness.
Adam exported his work to a pretty single file, and attached it to an email. “It’s why he drives thebigtruck.”
“Totally not because I’m over-compensating. Wink wink,” Deacon teased.
“Pretty sure you weren’t over-compensating last night.” Was I allowed to say that? The playfulness should be easy, but now things were different.
Or were they?
Adam worked his jaw. “That’s what she said?” His laugh was tight.
“Exactly. And she’s not the kind of woman to tell a lie,” Deacon said smoothly. “And I can swing by in the morning and pick up whatever you need brought back here.”
How did he do that? I was definitely going to need another lesson, or three, to figure out the nuances of this casual sex thing.
“Sounds like a plan.” I caught a glimpse of the clock on Adam’s laptop, and disappointment swam in. “Speaking of, I should get home.” I trusted my kids to be home alone without me, find food, and not wreck the house, but I liked to be around to hear about their day when I could, unless I’d warned them first. “First thing tomorrow?”
