Page 40 of Hold the Line

I wasn’t good at conversation. There might’ve been a better way to introduce the topic instead of just blurting it out during our lunch break, especially with Chris fully engrossed in the meatball sub Tilly had made for him, but when we’re working with heavy machinery all day, there wasn’t much time to talk. I had to take my opportunities when they arose.

“We need to go dancing,” I repeated.

Chris wiped his mouth. “How’s that?”

It’d been a week of me doing the bare minimum with Phoebe. Some nights, when I got home early enough, I’d book it to Sugar Rush to walk home with her. Other nights, I’d meet her on her porch. We ate dinner together—dinner she cooked since I didn’t have the skills and she insisted she liked doing it—listened to music, watched TV, talked, and always ended up dancing in her kitchen.

She was happy to spend time with me, and I’d had a week to let that settle. I was starting to come around to it, not that I understood it. I had nothing to offer her, and she…well, she had pretty much everything. But she liked me for no reason I could see, so I was determined to do more—give her more than cloistered dinners and piss-poor dancing.

And kissing. God, that woman’s mouth. I couldn’t get enough of kissing her.

I wasn’t ready to face what it’d be like to take her out in Sugar Brush. Outside of town, though? Hell yes. I wanted to experience pretty Phoebe Kelly by my side, and I wanted her to know how proud I was to be out with her.

Trouble was, I didn’t have the first clue how to go about all this. I’d stumbled into our first date, not realizing I’d been asking her out, and now that I wanted to do it for real, I needed help.

It pained me to ask Chris. Not because I thought he’d say no—I knew he’d be all in—but he’d havequestions. And enthusiasm. Far beyond what I was prepared to handle.

“Phoebe likes to dance at the place you take Tilly.” I tossed my half-eaten sandwich in my lunch bag and reached for the cookies I’d saved for last. “I wanna take her there too.”

“Now, wait a damn minute. Did I miss a few chapters?” He blinked hard. “Are you seeing Phoebe Kelly?”

I jerked my chin. “I am.”

His grin was Cheshire cat wide. “Well, look at you, keeping things from me. Till’s going to flip her shit.”

“Maybe don’t let her flip her shit to Phoebe. Or spread this around. It’s only been a week.”

He smacked my shoulder. “You don’t need to say that. We know you like your privacy. Tilly will flip her shit behind closed doors. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

“Thanks.” I wasn’t going to touch his calling my head pretty. “You in for doing…I guess, a double date kind of thing? Maybe next Saturday?”

He swiped a finger under his eyes, and I stared, waiting for a response. “Sorry, I’m just trying not to cry.”

I groaned. “Never mind. This was a dumb idea. I’ll figure it—”

Before I could finish, Chris tackled me into the grass. Luckily, we’d been sitting, so I hadn’t had far to go, but his big, heavy frame had knocked the wind clean out of me. If he’d been anyone else, my fight-or-flight instinct would have kicked in, but since it was Chris, I just blinked up at the sky.

“Nope. Don’t say it. We’re in.” He lifted himself off and pulled me upright. “Sorry for tackling you. I got excited.”

I shook the daze out of my head and caught my breath. “Get it all out before next weekend, all right?”

“I’ve got you, Deke.” He finally grew serious. “Till and I will be there to support you. And we’re gonna have fun.”

I hoped like hell that was true.

A couple nights later, I’d let Phoebe convince me to go with her to a furniture store—not that she’d had to try too hard. She was determined to make my place nicer, and though it didn’t bother me either way, if it made her happy, I had no problem spending the money. And I guessed her wanting me to live somewhere comfortable, surrounded by nice things, made me feel cared for and valued, worthy of having a decent home. It wasn’t a feeling I was all too familiar with, but if Phoebe believed that about me, who was I to argue?

After I’d agreed to buy the couch she liked, we moved on to tables. She kept sitting at them and asking me what I thought, but I couldn’t offer much of an opinion since she made everything look beautiful.

“Aren’t you a carpenter?” She tapped my chest, teasing. “You should care about the construction of the furniture you’re buying.”

She had a point. I could’ve built my own damn table and chairs, but that would’ve taken time I’d rather dedicate to paying customers and the woman in front of me. “I care more about which table you like sitting at best.”

Her cheeks flushed with pleasure. “That was an all kinds of sweet thing to say.”

“Just being honest.” I touched my lips to hers. It still blew my damn mind I was allowed to do that whenever. And that shelikedme doing it. “Pick the one you like the most. I’ll like it too.”

She slipped her hand in mine, weaving our fingers. “If you’re sure…”

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