“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I demanded, stubbing my cigarette out in the ashtray.
“It means a woman like her can get under your skin. She’s smart, independent, and good-hearted. She loves your kid, and your kid loves her.”
“Jesus, Case, you sound like an old woman.”
“I’m trying to give you something to think about.”
“Trust me when I say that regardless of how ‘beautiful’ Miss Evans is, I’ll have no trouble keeping my dick in my pants around her.”
Case shook his head. “It’s not your dick I’m concerned about. It’s your head and your heart.”
Shaking my head, I said, “Jesus, man. When did you grow a fucking vagina and start talking out of your ass with head-and-heart bullshit? This is me we’re talking about, Case. Not Rev.”
“I am serious.”
“I don’t know what I should worry about more: Sigel or the fact that my club president thinks I’m going to let some white-bread piece of ass turn me soft.”
“All I’m saying is just be careful. And for fuck’s sake, don’t say or do anything to piss her off. We need her on our side.”
“Fine. Anything else?”
“She doesn’t go anywhere in the compound without someone watching her. She doesn’t need to be hunting for the john and accidentally stumble onto something she shouldn’t. Got it?”
“I’ll put the prospects on her.”
I rose from my chair and patted Case’s back on my way out of the room. I didn’t know any other way to put the man at ease. I mean, he had nothing to worry about with Miss Alexandra Evans. The woman was beautiful, yeah—for sure—but that little sweet-ass chick and I were never going to tumble in any sheets. I’d stay away for the same reasons I’d warned Bishop away. I was far less concerned about her getting a rise out of my dick than I was about her making waves for the club.
As I made my way across the parking lot to my car, I couldn’t fight off the butterflies I felt in my stomach. I had never been apprehensive about doing a homebound job before. It didn’t take much to realize what it was about this job, or who it was, that made me anxious. While I might’ve been looking forward to working with Willow, I was most definitely not looking forward to seeing her father again. Sure, we had found some sort of middle ground a few days before, but David, or Deacon, didn’t impress me as the kind of man who stayed on an even keel. Our first meeting had been both physically and emotionally volatile. I could only imagine that it wouldn’t be long before we were coming to verbal blows again … maybe even physical ones—at least on his end.
Once I got to my car, I turned the radio to an upbeat song and tried desperately to ignore the voices of doubt in my head. Instead, I tried to focus on some of the visualization techniques my late mother had taught me. My father had jokingly called my mother “Mary Sunshine” for her ability to see the positive in even the hardest of situations. Instead of Deacon occupying my thoughts, I focused on Willow. She needed me, so I had to be strong for her.
When I pulled up outside the pawnshop, a nervous shudder ricocheted through my body at the sight of Deacon waiting on me. After quickly turning off the car, I grabbed my bag. With my eyes firmly on Deacon, I fumbled with the door handle for a few seconds before I was able to throw it open.
When I unceremoniously tripped on the uneven pavement, which sent me flying forward before I could right myself, the corners of Deacon’s lips turned up with a teasing lilt. “Glad I can amuse you,” I blurted before I could stop myself. I cringed as his dark eyes widened with surprise at my response.
“I’m glad to see you made it.”
Jerking my chin up, I countered¸ “I’m not late. I told you I wouldn’t be able to get here until three.”
“No, Miss Evans, you’re not late.” He flashed me a wide smile. “I’m just glad to see you.”
“You are?” I questioned, unable to hide my surprise. Was he implying what I thought he was? Was I going to have to set him straight that while flattered, we would only ever have a working relationship?
“Yeah. Willow’s been pestering the hell out of me all day about when you would get here.”
“Oh,” I murmured.
The shit-eating grin that stretched across Deacon’s face caused warmth to flood my cheeks. I stared down at the pavement, silently willing it to open up and swallow me and my embarrassment. Deacon’s finger on my chin caused me to jump. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me coming on to you, Miss Evans.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that,” I murmured.
“But don’t think it’s because of something decent within my character. You’re not my type.”
I sputtered with indignation at his words. “That’s good to hear since you’re most certainly not my type either.”
Deacon merely grinned. “You know, Rev told me to tread easy when it came to you. He thinks you’re some delicate little flower I could crush. But he’s wrong.”
“Is that right?”
He nodded. “You’re a tough little thing when you have to be.”
“Life has done that to me,” I replied before I could stop myself.
“Doesn’t it to everyone?”
The tone of his words surprised me. I realized that within his statement there was insight into Deacon’s own character. I couldn’t help wondering what life had done to him. But I had the feeling I would come closer to unearthing a buried treasure in my backyard than learning Deacon’s secrets.