Page 31 of Hold the Line

I think Deacon Slater just asked me on a date.

Chapter Fourteen

Deacon

I’dmadethedriveto Laramie plenty of times, but never like this. Sugar and spice spiked the air in my cab, along with grisly details of a serial killer.

Phoebe Kelly had a keen interest in true crime. When she’d hopped in the truck, she’d asked if I’d like to listen to one of her favorite podcasts. I’d had no clue what I’d been in for, but by the time I’d parked my truck outside the tattoo shop, I couldn’t say I wasn’t invested in the story.

I turned off the engine, and Phoebe twisted in her seat. “Well? Did you hate that?”

I chuckled. “Didn’t hate it. Wondering where you hide your darkness under all that pink.”

She looked down at her jeans, dark-pink sweater with the ends of a floral T-shirt poking out the bottom, and pink suede sneakers. Then there were the dainty little rose earrings and floral headband pushing her hair back from her rosy-cheeked face. I would’ve never guessed this woman would enjoy listening to the fine details of a murder spree.

She lifted her head, grinning. “I guess you know my favorite color, but I don’t think I’m dark on the inside.”

“I don’t think you are either,” I agreed. From what I’d gleaned, her core was just as soft and pink. “That’s why I’m surprised you like listening to this kind of thing.”

“I get it. But you know, women are actually the top consumers of true crime. I once read a theory it’s because most women’s worst nightmare is to be taken, hurt, or violated, and learning about true crime is a safe way of understanding the psychology behind the perpetrators so we can protect ourselves.”

When Phoebe spoke, she took care with how she formed her words. Her plush, rosy lips moved with precision, and when I looked into her eyes, I could almost see her brain working. I’d never known anyone who’d expressed their thoughts the way she did. I kept catching myself leaning closer so I didn’t miss anything she said.

“Do you think that’s true?” I asked, wanting to keep her talking.

“Probably. On some level.” She rubbed her lips together like she was revving her engine. “I’m a curious person. Learning about others so inherently different from me is fascinating. And you know what it’s like growing up in a small town. I love most parts, but I’ve been intentional about keeping my world big. It would be too easy to think the people I see every day are all that’s out there.”

Before I could tell her how rare that way of thinking was, especially around here, someone knocked on my window. I whipped my head around, finding a face plastered against the glass.

“Shit,” I muttered. “I wanna keep talking to you, but there’s not a chance he’ll leave us be.”

Phoebe leaned around me to check out the idiot with his cheek smooshed against my window. “I hope you know him.”

“That’s Jett.”

Jett had been giving me tattoos since I was twenty. He’d been just starting out in the business, and I’d had no money at all, so we’d worked out a barter system. I’d built furniture for his shop, and he’d covered my body in art. I’d always thought I’d gotten the sweeter end of the deal, but he’d disagree.

Soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk, Jett swept me into a hug so tight, my ribs creaked. Hugs weren’t something I’d had an abundance of in my life, but I took it even though I wasn’t too sure what to do with my arms or face.

“Happy as hell to see you, man.” He slapped my back hard enough to take my breath away. “Real,realhappy.”

When he pulled back, he looked me over, a wide grin on his face. “Dear god, you’re skinny. They forget to feed you in there?”

“Food was shit,” I muttered, aware Phoebe was witnessing our interaction.

“Figured it wouldn’t be great. You need to come around more often and eat Mama’s cooking. She’ll fatten you up on her tamales and carne asada. Mmmm, I’m getting hungry just thinking about it.” He glanced over my shoulder. “You know there’s a pretty girl standing by your truck?”

“That’s Phoebe.”

His brows popped. “Oh shit. Your girl?”

“Friend. Just a friend,” I grunted.

But Jett was already off, shaking her hand with the enthusiasm of a kid in a candy store. And it was no surprise Phoebe was into it. Everyone liked Jett. It was a good thing he wasn’t into women, or I’d probably lose her to him.

Christ, what was I even thinking? I’d have to have her in order to lose her, and we weren’t there. Phoebe wanted to be friends. She’d made that clear. And I wouldn’t have had the first idea of what to do with a woman like her.

I strode back to my truck as Jett draped his arm around Phoebe. She was already telling him about her bakery, clearly having no problem with it.

---