“You gonna read me my bedtime story, Uncle Rev?” Willow asked.
Before he could reply, I said, “You know what? I bet your daddy would love to read you a story tonight.”
Deacon’s eyes narrowed at my comment while Willow’s widened in surprise. “Really? You want to read to me, Deacon?” she asked.
“Yeah, sure, kid. Why not?”
A beaming smile lit up her face. “Okay. I’ll go brush my teeth and get my pajamas on.”
“Whatever,” Deacon replied.
Trying to ignore his glare, I turned to Beth. “Thank you again for dinner.”
“You’re more than welcome. Feel free to join us anytime. You have a standing invitation every night,” Beth said.
“That’s very sweet of you.”
As I started to the foyer, Deacon stepped in front of me. “I’ll walk you back to your car.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise at his uncharacteristically thoughtful gesture. Of course, I also hoped he wasn’t going to go off on me about my bedtime-story suggestion. “Um, thank you,” I mumbled as I followed him out the door.
The flame from his cigarette lighter lit the way for us in the dark. The sound of Deacon’s boots clomping across the floorboards filled the silence between us. After we pounded down the stairs, Deacon turned to me. “You know, you should really go for Rev.”
“Excuse me?” I questioned in surprise. After all, that was the last thing I’d expected out of him. A harsh “You need to mind your own fucking business when it comes to me and my kid” was more what I’d expected.
Deacon took a long drag on his cigarette. “He’s into you—I can tell.”
Cocking my head, I eyed him curiously. “Funny. I thought you came out here to go off on me about what I did with Willow, not to play matchmaker.”
“I’m not too stubborn to admit when I’m wrong about something.”
“You sure about that?” I teased.
“Yeah, I’d be a dick to yell at you for just suggesting I read to my kid. I mean, that’s what parents do. Well, that’s at least what my mother did for me.”
It was the first time he had given me any insight into his childhood. I couldn’t help wondering about what Deacon was like as a little boy. I’d since learned that he was an adopted son of Beth’s. I was certainly curious about his life before he came to live with the Malloys.
After silence stretched momentarily between us, I replied, “I’m glad to hear you say that.”
“Now, what about Rev?”
“What about him?” I questioned coyly.
My comment earned me a scowl from Deacon. “What about dating him?”
“He seems very sweet, and he’s very good-looking. But …”
After he exhaled a trail of smoke, his eyes found mine in the dark. “He’s not like Bishop and me, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”
“How’s that?”
“He likes good women.”
“And after spending a couple of hours with me, you automatically know I’m good?” I countered.
“You’re sure as hell not a sweet butt.”
“A what?”
He grinned. “Sorry. I keep forgetting you’re not of our world, White-Bread.”
“Don’t call me that.”
After flicking off the growing ashes of his cigarette, Deacon said, “A sweet butt is a chick who gets off by hanging around an MC club and banging any guy who wants to be with her.”
Wrinkling my nose, I replied, “You’re serious?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Why would women disrespect themselves like that?”
Deacon shrugged. “That’s their business, not mine.”
“Well, you’re certainly right about me not being a club whore.”
“Which is a definite turn-on for Rev.”
“If Rev is so into me, why didn’t he walk me to my car?”
“Because he’s gun-shy with women. He got his heart broken by some bitch who never deserved him.”
“That’s awful.”
Deacon tossed his cigarette to the ground and then stomped it out with his boot. “He’s better off now, but he’s been through some rough times.”
“It’s very sweet of you to be looking out for him.”
“He’s my brother. I want him to be happy,” Deacon replied as he led me around the side of the clubhouse. When my car came into view, I quickly dug my keys out of my purse. After I popped the lock, I met Deacon’s expectant gaze.
“I think it’s best if I focus solely on Willow right now and not romance.”
His brows knitted tightly together. “So that’s a no?”
I shrugged. “I guess it’s more of a not right now. How’s that?”
“Not what I wanted to hear.”
With a laugh, I opened my car door. “Good night, Deacon.”
“Good night, Miss Evans.”
“Are you never going to call me Alexandra?”
“Maybe … just not right now,” he replied with a crooked smile.
When the antique cuckoo clock in the corner of the pawnshop struck three, I pushed myself out of my chair and tossed aside the Playboy I’d been eyeing. Thanks to Willow’s school hours and Case’s insistence, I now had a new routine. Every day at three, I would stand outside the pawnshop. As I had a cigarette, I waited for Alexandra to arrive. I could count on her arriving just about the time I had lit up and taken a few drags.