He hoped she hadn’t read too far. If she had, there was a good chance the conversation between them was going to be vastly different. He’d seen the way she’d looked at the frat boy, at his watch, his clothes. He could read a room and could easily spot when people were not fan of wealthy people. The woman holding the program had wanted to rip the Phillipe Patek watch off the kid’s arm and shove it up his ass, Deacon would bet his family fortune on it. If she found out who he was, everything would change.
But he might be okay. On the front page of the program were the words “In Loving Memory,” across the top. Beneath that were two photos, one was of his parentswhen they were sixteen and eighteen, and one was when they were seventy-six and seventy-eight. Underneath were their names, Abraham & Rachel, and the words “Two Hearts, One Journey, Together Forever.”
Inside the first page was the last family Christmas photo. His parents, his daughter Tabby, and him around the Christmas tree. Surrounding that photo was a collage of pictures making up his parents’ life as a couple and their life as a family. Their wedding, homes, vacations, and travels around the world. Then him as a baby, learning to ride a bike, playing the piano, skiing, graduating, and getting married.
But if she went past those first two pages, it went on to detail the St. Claire legacy and that was when he’d no longer be an anonymous bartender.
“Hey,” he said, hoping to sound friendly.
She slammed the program shut on the bar top, as if she’d been caught looking at porn or something, and apologized. “Sorry.”
The look of guilt on her face surprised him, since she hadn’t done anything wrong. Maybe she knew who he was now and she felt bad because she was going to blow him off.
Fuck.Deacon had really been enjoying speaking to this woman, which sounded horrible now that he said it considering the shit day she was having. But it was the first time in a long time he knew for a fact a woman wasn’t talking to him because of his last name or the number of zeros he had in his bank account.
He’d searched her eyes and was confident he saw no recognition there. Maybe he was a fool, but he’d believed their connection had nothing to do with money, status, or power. He was just a man running a bar.
But now, now did she know who he was?
“Are those your?—”
“Parents, yes. The service was today.”
“Oh, my god.” She put her hands on her stomach. “I’m anasshole.”
“What?” He had no idea where that had come from.
“Your parents’ service was today, and I was talking about my…I can’t even…”
“No, I asked. I wanted you to talk about that. I want you to talk about anythi?—”
“Boyo! I’m so sorry!” The swinging western doors behind Deacon flew open, and his childhood best friend Cillian rushed through them and pulled him into his arms, squeezing his neck tightly before kissing him on both cheeks. “You are a lifesaver, man. Leanne was freaking out because you never manned the bar a day in your life. I told her you’ve spent how many hours hanging out here with me. Thank god, I’m so charismatic, and you can’t your take your eyes off me while I work, right,? You had to pick things up, I mean, come on, you’re a freaking genius. Oh, and there’s YouTube.”
“Yeah, that too.” Which was how Deacon had learned to make spicy margaritas.
“See, Leanne had nothing to worry about!” Cillian kissed Deacon’s cheek once more as Deacon stepped out of his embrace.
“How’s Lee Lee?” he asked.
“Good, great, perfect as always! That woman is a goddess! It was a false alarm. No baby yet, just Braxton Hicks. Sorry about the timing, man, really.” Cillian shook his head, panting out of breath, his pale cheeks flushed red beneath a landscape of freckles.
Deacon could see that he’d clearly rushed here, little did he know Deacon wanted to be here now. Especially since heneededto know if she knew he was.
“I’m fine here. You should go home and be with Lee Lee.”
“No, D, I can’t do that to you, man. Not today. You’ve slummed it long enough.” Cillian glanced around the dining area as he gripped Deacon’s shoulders from behind, then headed down to the end of the bar to check on the old man and then on the couple and the frat boys.
Deacon glanced at the blonde.
She stared at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. Then fury burned in her eyes as she asked, “You’renota bartender?”
Never mind. She definitely didnotknow who he was.
3
For a split second,Deacon wondered if the blonde beauty was having a legitimate medical emergency. Once the question left her mouth, her breath hitched and her lips parted in a silent gasp, as if she were drowning or the air in the room had gone toxic.
“What’s wrong… are you okay?”
