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Deal. It wasn’t a fucking deal, not to him. And as much as she tried to deny it, she knew it, too. “Alex…”
“We still have a deal, don’t we, Deacon?” There was an acerbic bite to her voice—her tone damn near gave him frostbite. He knew she was still angry after the way he’d behaved this morning—she had every right to be—but he got the feeling this was something more.
He held the phone tighter to his ear. “Talk to me, Alex.
I know I?—”
“I’m getting dressed. I’ll head over to your place when I’m ready.”
Her voice was still cold, but she’d dropped the quietly controlled anger. Now she just sounded emotionless, distant.
Fuck. She was holding back, keeping her feelings locked down, and he hated it.
“Deacon?” Emily’s voice drifted in from the hall and, he was positive, bounced off the kitchen cabinets and right down the goddamn receiver to Alex.
“You still at work?” Alex asked.
“Look, something’s come up. I, ah…I have to cancel our plans for tonight.” He wanted to say more, so much more, but Emily chose that moment to walk into the kitchen.
Alex was silent for several seconds, then she laughed, the sound forced, distant. “Jesus. You’re so damn predictable.”
Goddammit. “No. Listen to me?—”
Emily’s face crumpled. “Are you…are you talking to her?”
After the way things had been left between them, this was the last thing he needed. Alex barely trusted him as it was. With the scratches and the confrontation in the store…
She’d jump to the wrong conclusion without doubt. His little viper would use it as another way to protect herself, an excuse to push him away, and he couldn’t have that. He was doing a good enough job of that on his own.
“I have to go. I’m sorry.” He wanted to tell her about Emily—all of it, the lies, the betrayal—but the memory of his ex sitting in the bathtub the day after he’d found her in bed with another man, a blade to her wrist and swearing she’d cut her vein wide open if he exposed her, if he told her family and friends what she’d done to keep him—stopped him cold. She couldn’t bear the humiliation. All she had left was her position in society. She’d lost him, if she lost that, too…
He couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk telling anyone, not even Alex.
Alex cleared her throat. “Yeah, sure.”
Dread slammed him hard. “This morning, I…” He glanced up at Emily, and those cold blue eyes were locked on him. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
“Forget it, Deacon. I have,” Alex said, then hung up.
Alex rolled an old tire around the side of the garage to stash behind the building. Really, this job could wait till later, but she needed a minute. Rusty had been watching her all damn day, and Piper just flat-out wouldn’t leave her alone. They weren’t blind. They knew something was up. Something she could never tell them.
And being a crabby bitch all day hadn’t helped, either.
I’ll talk to you soon, okay?
Those words kept running through her mind. If that wasn’t a kiss-off, she didn’t know what was. One minute he missed her, couldn’t get enough of her, the next, she was finding lipstick-stained shirts in his trash and he couldn’t get away fast enough. She shoved down the stab of pain. Her feelings didn’t matter in all this. He’d made that clear from the start.
All that mattered now was what this meant for West Restoration.
Lifting the tire, she stacked it on top of the others, then turned to leave and slammed up against a hard chest.
She opened her mouth to scream bloody murder, but a hand slapped over her mouth—and Deacon filled her vision.
“It’s just me.”
She yanked his fingers away. “What do you think you’re doing?” Then without conscious thought, her gaze moved over him, ate up every inch of his body. It had only been a day, but it felt like forever. So many emotions pounded through her, making her dizzy. She didn’t know whether to punch him or kiss the living daylights out of him.
“I had to come and see you.” He moved in, crowded her, pressed her into the warm steel wall of the garage at her back. “Last night…something came up.”
