Home > Never with Me(9)

Never with Me(9)
Author: Kaylee Ryan

 

 

four

 

 

Deacon

 

Frustrated, I toss down the legal brief I’ve been trying to read for the past two hours. I can’t concentrate, and that’s my thing. I do well under pressure, and my concentration is rock solid. Well, it was. That apparently doesn’t apply to a dark-haired, blue-eyed beautiful woman named Ramsey.

I can’t stop thinking about her.

I left the park hours ago, and she’s done nothing but consume my thoughts. I don’t let women consume my thoughts, but with this one, I have no choice. She’s there. So is the memory of her soft hands and her body pressed tightly to mine. The feel of my cock nestled against her pussy, and the taste of her kiss still lingers.

No matter what’s going on in my life, I’ve always been able to focus on work. Patrick and Gordman is a small law office in Willow River. We work on all kinds of cases, from real estate to divorce, to estate planning and wills. Mr. Patrick and Mr. Gordman have both been tossing around the idea of retiring since I came on board seven years ago. From that moment, I knew what I wanted. I want to buy the practice from them. I’ve been busting my ass, learning everything that I can, sucking up the knowledge from their combined experience like a sponge.

That kind of dedication comes at a cost. Working way more hours than any one person should leaves no room for a social life. My sisters like to call me a workaholic. Hell, so do my friends. Friends that it’s been months since I’ve seen for more than a passing hello, or a quick call and text message. I’ve sacrificed a lot for my career. I keep telling myself that it will be worth it. I’m still young. I’m only thirty-two.

My mind once again drifts to Ramsey. I don’t know how old she is, but she’s best friends with my little sister, who is twenty-two. They look to be the same age. She’s too damn young for me, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking about having her in my bed.

“Fuck,” I mutter. I run my hands over my face. I just need a break. That has to be what it is. This morning’s photo shoot has been the first breather I’ve allowed myself in months. I need a beer and to shoot the shit with my friends. Decision made, I reach for my phone and pull up my best friend Orrin Kincaid’s contact, and hit Call.

“He’s alive,” my best friend says with a laugh.

“Fuck off.” I snort. “What are you getting into tonight?”

“Me and a couple of my brothers are going to the Willow Tavern for a few beers. Maybe I’ll kick their asses in a game of pool,” he replies.

“What time?”

“Hold up. Are you coming out? For real?” There’s excitement in his voice, and that makes me feel like an even bigger tool. I need to make more time for those in my life that I care about. It’s not like I’m in jeopardy of losing my job. I’ve just been on go mode from the day I got the call that the job was mine. I don’t know any other way to be.

“Yeah, I was thinking about it.” Even more so now that he said that they’re going to the Willow Tavern. Ramsey works tonight. Seeing her again is probably the worst idea in the history of ideas with how I can’t stop thinking about her, but I’m going to do it anyway.

“Fuck me, it might be summer, but it’s going to snow,” he jokes. “This is a rare event.”

“Yeah, yeah. What time are you meeting there?”

“Brooks is working. His shift is over at six. That’s if he gets out on time. The plan was to meet at the Tavern around eight. He almost never gets out on time, and he’ll need to go home and shower.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“You better not stand me up, Setty,” he warns.

I let out a hearty laugh. “I’m not standing you up. My concentration is shit. It’s time for a break,” I admit.

“You good?”

If you count lusting after your cousin, who is also my little sister’s best friend, then sure. I’m good. “Of course.” I knew that my little sister’s best friend was his younger cousin from out of town. I knew that she had some issues with her parents and was building a life for herself here in Willow River. What I didn’t know was that she’s drop-dead gorgeous, or that her lips taste as sweet as honey. I guess those are the kinds of things you miss when you’re married to your job.

“You want me to swing by and pick you up?”

“Nah, I’ll just meet you there.”

“All right, man, see you soon.”

“See ya.” I end the call, tossing my phone on the couch. I close the document I was working on and shut down my laptop before placing everything in a pile on the coffee table. There is definitely no working happening for me today.

I need to get out of this house and out of my own head. I have to stop thinking about her. I should drop in on Palmer and see how the edits are going, but that defeats the purpose of me trying to stop thinking about her.

“Fuck it,” I mutter. Standing, I head to my bedroom and change into a pair of dark jeans and a black fitted T-shirt. I may not get to socialize much, but I still hit my home gym at least five days a week. However, it’s not often I get to show off the fruits of that labor. Tonight is not one of those nights. Tonight I won’t be dressed in my normal suit. Sometimes even if I meet the guys after work for dinner or beers, I go straight from the office. It almost feels foreign to be in plain clothes anywhere other than my own home.

Making sure I have my wallet, I grab my keys and my phone, and I’m out the door. I have no idea where I’m going. I still have a couple of hours before I meet the guys at the Tavern. There’s a part of me that wants to just go sit at the bar, but I know I can’t do that for a multitude of reasons.

I promised Mom I’d come and visit this weekend, and there is no better time than the present. Turning right out of my driveway, I head to their house. It’s dinner time, and my stomach growls. Some of my mom’s home cooking is exactly what I need.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m pulling into their driveway. As soon as I climb out of my truck, I can smell the grill, and my growl is more of an intense roar at this point. I don’t bother with the front door. Instead, I make my way around the side of the house and find my parents sitting on the back deck.

“Deacon!” Mom’s face lights up when she sees me. “We didn’t know you were stopping by. Are you hungry? We have plenty.”

“You know there’s no better steak than mine,” Dad tells me.

Cliff Setty is a mean machine on the grill. He mixes his own spices and holds that shit close to his chest. It doesn’t matter how many times I ask for the combination. He refuses. He claims that’s what keeps his kids coming home to visit.

“It smells great,” I say, laughing at him. “You ever going to give up that recipe, old man?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

“It’ll be in my will,” he tosses back.

“I wrote your will,” I remind him.

“Fine, it will be in the house. You’ll have to search for it.”

“You hear this?” I ask Mom.

She just shakes her head. “He won’t even tell me.”

“And she,” Dad points his tongs at Mom, “is the love of my life.”

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