“Mine is six-twelve,” the woman beside him said.
“I know we did our order before that,” Deacon said.
“Just a minute,” Sally said, and she moved to get another order from the counter behind her. The woman with Deacon’s food stood there, her grip tight on the paper bag.
“Can you believe we got the same order?” he asked, which was probably the worst pickup line in the history of mankind.
She blinked at him, a small smile finally touching her lips. “Are you going to eat all this by yourself, cowboy?”
“No,” he said. “Are you?”
She shook her head, her smile growing. “No, this is for me and my boyfriend and my older brother.”
Everything inside Deacon deflated on the wordboyfriend.
“I’ve got another order right here for that,” Sally said. “Timestamp, six-nineteen.”
“That’s mine,” the woman said.
“If they’re the same, it doesn’t matter.” Deacon reached for the bag still in Sally’s hand and took it from her.
“Sorry about the curbside fiasco,” she said.
“You’re fine.” Deacon nodded at her and then turned away from the pickup counter. He made his way through the busy restaurant and back outside, where it hurt his lungs to breathe in for more than two seconds.
“You didn’t say who your food was for.”
He turned toward the woman, catching a whiff of her perfume now that it wasn’t covered by sesame oil. She smelled like peach blossoms and sunshine and something citrusy that Deacon really needed in his life.
“It’s just my momma and daddy,” he said.
“Oh, so you still live at home?” she asked, something guarded coming into her expression under the harsh streetlights outside.
“No,” he said. “I’m visiting them. I don’t even live here.”
She blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “Oh.”
He gave her a dry look and turned away. “Enjoy dinner with your boyfriend and your brother.” As he walked off, he could practically feel the stunned energy coming off the woman. Part of him cared, but a louder, grumpier part totally didn’t. He’d told her the truth. He didn’t live in Coral Canyon, and why should he get this woman’s number? He only came up here a couple of times a year, and she had a boyfriend already.
Deacon had never had a problem getting a date, but he certainly didn’t think he could woo a woman away from her current boyfriend to be with him. “With your quick wit,” he muttered to himself as he got back in the truck and put the Chinese food on the passenger seat. Deacon could barely carry on a conversation over a meal, so a long-distance relationshipthat would require texting and talking on the phone absolutely was not for him.
She seemed like a local, and like she’d been one for a while, especially if she knew the name of the manager at The Darling Dragon.
He reminded himself that he wasn’t really a local of Coral Canyon. Sure, he’d spent summers here for a couple of decades, but he’d mostly palled around with his cousins and siblings and didn’t concern himself with making friends. He had those back in Ivory Peaks, where he lived during the school year.
Deacon returned to his parents’ single-level house they’d moved into only a couple of years ago. He’d been in Coral Canyon for about a week now, and he had needed a break from the farm. He loved his parents, and they treated him like gold. If Deacon ever needed anything, he could ask Momma or Daddy, and they’d patiently and lovingly teach him and lend him their advice.
He knew plenty of people didn’t enjoy the blessings he had in his life, from an amazing family, to acres and acres of land, to a couple of billion dollars in the bank. And while Deacon got down on his knees every night and thanked the Lord for those things, he could also recognize the gaping hole in his life.
He rolled his neck, stretching out some of the tension there as he fought against the prompting running through his mind. “I don’t want to date again,” he muttered to God.
His parents had a security system and surely knew he sat in the driveway, in his truck, their food getting colder by the moment. At the same time, they’d all waited twenty extra minutes for it.
He figured he had time to reinstall a dating app where he’d set up his profile once and never come back to it. “This is what I’ve reduced myself to,” he muttered. “A dating app.”
It downloaded, and he tapped it open. Of course, the app wanted his login information, and of course, Deacon did not remember it.
Growling yet again, he flipped off the ignition in the truck, grabbed the food, and headed inside. He could look at the app later that night, after he had been fed and had more time when his parents wouldn’t be tracking him.
