Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“How’d you convince them to let you do that?” I ask. She’s quiet. When I glance over, she’s wringing her hands together in her lap. On instinct, I reach over and cover them with mine. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”
“No. I want to. I just don’t really talk about them.”
“Then you don’t have to.”
She turns to look at me as I pull into the parking lot of Momma Joe’s. “My dad’s a lawyer too,” she says softly. “He’s- You’re not like him.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
She swallows hard. “It’s a good thing, Deacon.”
“Good.” I give her hand a gentle squeeze. “Sit tight. I’ll get your door.” I pull the keys from the ignition, climb out of the truck, and race around to her door. Once I have it open, I offer her my hand to help her down, and my palm again finds its way to the small of her back as I guide her inside.
I don’t know what the deal is with her and her parents, but I hate the look that it puts on her face. It’s my new mission tonight to bring her smile back.
seven
Ramsey
The heat of his palm resting against my back penetrates through the thin fabric of my company-issued polo. I can’t believe that I agreed to have dinner with him dressed like this. He’s quite possibly the sexiest man on earth. I’m feeling frumpy next to him with my hair piled in a knot on top of my head, my leggings, polo, and tennis shoes. Not that it matters. Deacon is just being nice. No way would a man like him be interested in me.
Not that I want him to be. I’ve had my fill of men, lawyers in particular. Although, I must admit that Deacon doesn’t act at all like my father or my ex. Then again, I don’t really know him. I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of character. I knew instantly that Robert was not a good guy, but never once have I gotten that vibe from Deacon. He reminds me of my cousins—just a laid-back guy.
I almost argued the fact that I couldn’t ride with him, but instead, I sent a message to my aunt Carol. I didn’t want to send one to Palmer, because I didn’t know how she would feel about me having dinner with her brother. Oh, who am I kidding? She’d be thrilled and probably be planning our wedding. I’m sure Aunt Carol is right behind her, but I needed to tell someone where I was and who I was with.
Just in case.
Speaking of Aunt Carol, my phone vibrates in my purse. “I’m sorry, I need to make sure Aunt Carol doesn’t need me,” I tell Deacon as we take a seat.
“Of course.” He smiles kindly, and it’s a smile that I feel I can trust. Pulling my phone out of my purse, I read Aunt Carol’s reply.
Aunt Carol: Thank you for letting me know. Have fun on your date. He’s a good guy, Ramsey. You have nothing to worry about. However, it’s always good to let someone know where you’re going to be. Be safe, sweet girl, and have a good time.
Me: Thank you. It’s just dinner. I think he’s being nice to me because I’m Palmer’s best friend. I’ll text you when we are on our way home.
I go to put my phone back into my purse, but her reply is instant.
Aunt Carol: You’re beautiful, Ramsey. I have no doubt that’s why that young man asked you to dinner.
Aunt Carol: It’s a date, Rams.
I don’t reply. Instead, I take longer than necessary to slide my phone back into the interior side pocket of my purse to hide the blush that I’m sure is coating my cheeks.
“You’ve got to tell me who caused that hue of pink to coat your cheeks,” Deacon says, his voice is commanding but still soft.
“Uh, it was Aunt Carol. I just told her we were out to dinner.”
He nods. “And what did she say?”
“Nothing.” I wave him off and grab a menu, using it as a shield.
“Ramsey?”
My face is still hidden by the menu, but I know I can’t hide behind it all night. Slowly, I lower the menu to the table. “She just said to have a good time on my date, and I told her it wasn’t a date. That you were just being nice taking Palmer's best friend to dinner.”
“Did I ask you to dinner?” He rests his arms on the table and leans forward as if my answer is going to be riveting.
“Yes.”
“And I drove us here?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a date, Ramsey.” He sits back on his side of the booth and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks proud of himself, while I’m internally freaking out.