I ignore him and keep my [?] gaze on Deacon and Tanner. “Now, tell us all about this topping fun. Paint a word picture,” I add, waving my hand slowly across the air.
Tanner clears his throat and rises to his feet. “I think I’ll get Skyler his ice cream.”
“No, babe, you don’t need to do that,” Deacon says irritably. “Skyler we arenotpainting you a word picture.”
“I’ll do it then,” I suggest. “I’ll say the words and you tell me how accurate I am.” Before he has a chance to protest, I lift both my hands and spread them across the air as I list off my words. “Messy. Dirty.Sticky.Cream—I bet there was cream squirting all over the place, right?”
“Who the fuck puts cream on top of ice cream?” Drew asks quietly.
“Shh, this is golden,” Will hisses back. “And there a tons of desserts that have ice creamandcream.”
“What about nuts?” I ask. “Oh, and we can’t forget the big, long…banana.”
“Fucking hell, I’m never going to be able to eat a banana split again,” Drew grumbles, prompting Jackson to shake with laughter next to me.
“Why?” I ask, genuinely curious. “I would have thought throwing a naked Tanner on it would make it even more enjoyable.”
“For god’s sake, Skyler,” Deacon growls. “How many times do I have to tell you not to hit on my boyfriend?”
I clutch a hand to my chest, adopting an indignant expression. “I have never once hit on him. I was merely complimenting him, and if you don’t like it you really only have yourself to blame, Deacon. You’re the one who decided to date a guy who’s so freakin’ hot. What am I supposed to do,notcomment?”
From behind us, I hear a rumbling chuckle and I know Tanner has returned with my ice cream just in time to hear me make my case.
“Oh, god, don’t laugh,” Deacon says with an exasperated groan. “You’ll only encourage him.”
Tanner sets a bowl of ice cream on the coffee table in front of me and hands me a spoon before making his way back to the other side of the coffee table, pressing a kiss to Deacon’s hair as he resumes his seat. “I’m two months off fifty, babe. Just let me have this.”
ChapterNine
Skyler
I glancearound the crowd gathered at Sully and Drew’s place for their “unofficial” engagement celebration, letting out a sigh when I once again fail to catch any glimpse of Jackson.
“All good?” Deacon asks me, one eyebrow arched.
I shrug one shoulder. “Yeah, fine. I just want Jackson to get here. It sucks he had to stay late because some rich, pretentious asshole decided they want to take their Porche out on the weekend, and god forbid they get into car trouble and have to seek help in the wilds of Upstate,” I grumble. “Why should Jackson have to be the one dealing with that?”
Deacon’s brows creep up slightly as his lips twitch with barely contained amusement. “Would you expect Drew to handle it and miss his own party?”
“They’re having another party in two weeks,” I point out. “He could stand to miss this one.” Apparently when you have an unofficial engagement before the real engagement, you also have to throw an unofficial party before the real party. Or, at least, that’s how Sullivan and Drew seem to be handling things now that Drew’s finally made his move and put Sully out of his misery.
Deacon doesn’t try to hide his amusement at what I would consider to be a very reasonable argument; instead, he tosses his head back with a loud bark of laughter.
I let out a huff of frustration and take a sip of my drink, gazing around the party again. Still nothing.
“Oh, come on, Sky—quit with the sulking,” Deacon cajoles as though I’m one of his kindergarteners. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon. He’s just held back at work, it’s not like he’s gone off to ‘Nam.”
“It just sucks. We’ve barely seen each other all week—I had to work last weekend, and I’ve been late home the last few nights. Now I finally get off early for once andhehas to work late. I really miss him.”
“Well, I can sympathize there. Tanner’s away this whole week and it sucks. I won’t get to see him until Wednesday.”
I eye Deacon critically. I get what he’s trying to do, but it’s not really helping. “But…apart from not being in the same place, has the actual amount of time you have for each other decreased?”
“Well…no.”
“So, it’s basically just the sex.”
He sends me a flinty look. “It’s more than that and you know it—stop being a dick.”
