“Smartass.” I flipped him off. “Just for that, I’m ordering the most expensive thing on the menu of wherever we’re going.”
“Wow, now I’m worried. You’re vegan. What are you going to do, order the largest salad?” He was laughing out loud now, and he looked so relaxed and adorable that I couldn’t help joining in.
“Nice. Make fun of the vegan, the woman who’s making sacrifices to keep our planet healthier.”
“Seriously, I was only joking.” Deacon reached over took my hand, lacing his fingers with mine. The move was so smooth and natural that I almost melted. “Will it make it up to you if I tell you we’re going to my favorite restaurant right on the beach? And that I called the chef today, who happens to be a buddy of mine, and he put together a special vegan menu for you?”
“Are you kidding?” My eyes widened. “Um, abso-fucking-lutely. That’s incredible, Deacon.”
He looked pleased that I was so happy about his surprise. “Well, it’s one of the best places to eat around this area—I think so, anyway. The chef is also the owner, and he’s a friend from college. He was premed, too, but he realized he was more passionate about food than bodies—lucky deal for him that he figured it out when he did, before med school. He escaped in time.”
“Didn’t you like medical school?” Deacon struck me as the type who must’ve been intense and hyper-focused.
“I liked learning medicine. I didn’t mind the pressure or the hours or the work. But I didn’t like the bullshit—the posturing, the competition, all the worry about who’d get into what program. Who would make the most money, as if that’s why we were there.” He shook his head. “I got through. I survived.”
“Naturopathic medicine school was different. Most people who want to go into that field have a special point of view, I guess. They’re looking to complement traditional medicine, not transform it.” I’d enjoyed my years in school. It had been like an extension of college, only with less partying and healthier food.
“Did your father give you a hard time about choosing naturopathy instead of regular medical school?”
I shook my head. “No, he was fine with it. He was just relieved I didn’t go into law.” I winked at Deacon. “You know, doctors don’t always have the best opinions of attorneys.”
“That’s true.” Deacon chuckled. “What about your mother? What did she think?”
“Honestly, my parents didn’t care as long as I was happy and productive. They brought me up to believe that I have a responsibility to give back to this world in some way. Exactly what that looks like is up to me to figure out. Medicine, philanthropy, social work, the arts, motherhood . . . the choices were vast. The only forbidden option was doing nothing.”
“They sound like good people.” Deacon’s fingers tightened on mine.
“They are. They’re supportive and kind and lovely. And they love each other, in an almost embarrassingly sweet way.” I pretended to shudder. “They’ve been pestering me about coming down here to visit, but I haven’t exactly been forthcoming about the exact state of my living conditions, so I’ve been putting them off. I figure if I can twist some arms and get water and power run out to my land, it’ll go a long way to keep them from freaking out when they see the trailer.”
Deacon shook his head. “I don’t know how you survived the summer heat in that place, Emma. You’re a lot tougher than you appear at first glance.”
“Thanks. That’s not something people often say about me, so I appreciate it. I just might have been a tiny bit spoiled.” I looked down, absently studying the contrast of our linked fingers, with Deacon’s large, tanned hand encompassing my smaller one. Even his wrists were sexy, I decided. What was there about a man’s forearms when he rolled back his sleeves . . .
“Look.” He roused me from my preoccupation with his arms, pointing out the windshield. “There’s the Gulf of Mexico. We’re only about five minutes from the restaurant now.”
I grinned. “Good news. I’m starving.”
His eyes brushed over me. “So am I.” He smiled enigmatically, leaving me wondering if we weren’t both talking about the same kind of hunger.
* * *
The meal was incredible, surpassing even Deacon’s grand promises. Our reserved table was on a deck alongside the beach, and as we ate, we watched a glorious sunset over the placid, incredibly blue water of the Gulf.
Once we were full and finished and the bill had been paid, Deacon stood up, offering me his hand. “Want to take a walk on the beach?”
I peered into the darkness. “Is it safe?”
“Emma. C’mon. It’s the beach. And you’re with me. What could happen?” He cocked his head, looking down at me patiently.
“Um, wow, so much.” I began to tick off all the possible dangers on my fingers. “First of all, you just uttered the line that is the classic predictor of a horror scene in every single scary movie.What could happen?” I snorted. “Nice going. Second, there’s a lot of water out there. That water houses creatures, who could, at any moment, creep out of the water and then drag us back into it with them.” I shivered. “Then there’s the very real human element of risk. Serial killers just waiting for the clueless couple wandering down the dark beach to be their next victims. Muggers. Crazy folk.”
“The only possible dangerous creature in the water would be a shark, and believe it or not, the chance of them coming out onto the beach to pursue their prey is nil. Nothing. They don’t do it. I promise that I won’t drag you out into the Gulf for a late-night swim, so nothing that lives in it is a threat to you.” He pointed to the beach. “It’s also well-lit and well-patrolled in the part where we’ll be walking. There are a lot of businesses along this stretch, so the police are active, making sure the serial killers, muggers and crazy folk are kept out. Okay? Trust me?”
I took a deep breath and gave him my hand. “All right, but it’s on your head if I don’t make it back.”
“If you don’t make back, the chances are good that I won’t, either, so I’m comfortable with bearing the responsibility.”
We stopped on the edge of the sand to take off our shoes. Deacon tucked his socks into his loafers, rolled up his pant legs, and gallantly insisted on carrying my heels as well as his own shoes.
