Takeoff (Open Skies #5) - Becca Jameson Page 0,9
And time was not his friend lately. Time was a bitch, to be honest. Deacon finally met a woman he wanted to build something with, and the world seemed to be against him.
Things with Raeann had happened fast. At least for him. He was pretty sure his heart had seized the moment he first saw her at the airport. Her smile. That thick black hair with the fancy white streak. Even her uniform had made him do a double-take—though she hated the uniforms they wore for the airline.
He couldn’t explain it. There was no explanation. He’d just known. Almost immediately. Known that he wanted her to be his.
When the door suddenly opened, Deacon was jerked out of his headspace. Heather was on the other side and she opened it wide. “Come on in. Raeann’s almost ready.”
He chuckled. If this wasn’t a date, why couldn’t she just come to the door without caring what she looked like? He liked that she wasn’t ready. It implied she cared. Not that it mattered to him how she looked, but it was telling that it mattered to her.
Heather was smirking. “Just a couple of friends getting some dinner I hear.”
He continued to chuckle, though he at least tried to stifle it. “Yep. That’s what I hear too.” He looked up as Raeann came down the stairs. She was wearing black jeans and a soft white sweater that hugged her curves. Could be casual, or she could have put on heels and gone to the symphony. She was stylish. He also noticed she wore black a lot, which matched her hair.
“Hey.” She was out of breath as she hit the bottom of the stairs.
“Hey,” he parroted.
Heather waved over her shoulder and headed up the steps. “You guys have fun.”
“Heather doesn’t think we can be friends,” Raeann commented as she grabbed her purse.
Deacon narrowed his eyes. “What? Why not? We’re totally friends.” He let the sarcasm ooze from his voice. Luckily, Raeann just rolled her eyes as she passed under his arm to leave the condo.
“Hungry?” he asked as he opened the passenger door.
“Starving. I only grabbed an apple for lunch.”
“Why?”
She shrugged as she settled in the seat. “I was busy and kinda forgot and then it was too late.”
He shut her door and rounded to his side, waiting until he was seated to respond. “Busy? What did you do after coffee with Shayla and Heather?”
She scrunched up her nose. “You’re gonna laugh.”
“Should I just start now?” He chuckled.
“Organized my closet.”
He laughed harder. “You’re right. Why?”
“To keep myself from scrolling through social media. To occupy my mind so I don’t go crazy wondering if those bitches have found me yet.”
“That’s really weighing on you.”
“Yeah.” She fidgeted, rubbing her hands on her jeans.
Deacon started the engine. “I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to entertain you so you won’t focus on the witch hunters for the entire evening. Now, how do you feel about greasy bar food?”
She gave him a side glare. “I can eat greasy bar food. Are we going to a bar?”
“Nope.” He pulled away from the curb.
“Where are we going then?”
“You’ll see.”
She giggled, and the sound did not make him feel like he was her friend. If she continued to laugh like that, he was going to end up with a hard-on all evening.
It took fifteen minutes to arrive at their destination, and she peered out the windshield. “Ax throwing?” Her brow was furrowed in confusion.
“Yep. Have you heard of it?”
She shook her head, but that laugh. Damn.
“You’re in for a treat.” He jumped down from his side of the SUV and rounded to let her out. “Ready?”
“I have no idea.”
He grabbed her hand and threaded their fingers together as she lifted her small purse over her head and arranged it at her hip. Luckily, she didn’t make a comment about how friends don’t hold hands. He would hate it if she insisted on putting a lot of space between them.
The truth was they’d already crossed out of friend territory the moment he met her. There was no going back. He knew it. She knew it. If she wanted to dig her heels in and insist they take a step back, he would do it for her. But in the long run, they were not friends.
When they stepped inside, he gave his name to the hostess. He’d made a reservation earlier in the day.
Raeann twisted in every direction, looking around. “This is a thing? People come here and throw axes?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“It’s fun. You’ll see.”
Ten minutes later,