Casey grinned like he had just won some sort of milestone argument. “Spill, Cinderella, what’s going on in that head of yours?”
Wow, having a friend like Casey was tough, or maybe it was just friends in general. I had never really been a share your feelings kind of girl. I was much better at bottling them up and burying them.
“Well, since you already know about his profession—”
“Ex-profession,” Casey inserted quickly.
“Ex-profession,” I agreed. “I’m still not sure how I feel about it.”
“What sort of profession?” asked my pedicure lady, and I balked at her self-inclusion into our conversation.
“Let’s just say Mr. Winky has made it to film once or twice.”
I almost gasped with outrage as Casey easily gave up the information I would have preferred to keep private.
“And he no longer swings on film?” asked my pedicurist.
“No, he’s retired,” answered Casey.
I groaned as my personal life became the center of attention.
“Who cares then? I know several members of this day spa who have been immortalized in a little camera action. It’s done, in the past. Now he’s all yours.” She gave me a smile that matched Casey’s.
“Yeah, but you aren’t dating them. I would hate the idea of my boyfriend being on film like that. I don’t mind a few past conquests sharing those intimate memories of my man, but I sure as hell wouldn’t want to share those moments with the entire world. And once it’s on the net, it’s there forever!” She had echoed Lionel’s words, and I had to agree. It did bother me that Decker’s Mr. Winky could be found at the click of a mouse.
“You can’t help who you fall in love with. My uncle Bruno met a woman, they fell in love, and had three kids. Turns out, she chopped her former husband’s head off with an axe.” We all stared at the day spa employee like her own head had just fallen off. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said when she realized we had all become silent, “it was a long time ago and her husband was an A-hole anyway. She and my uncle are still madly in love and his head is quite intact.”
Casey shuddered before turning his attention back to me. “If you really do care about him, his past won’t matter, because you’re his future.” Casey’s honest words wormed their way into my heart. That was the truth. I had told Decker I didn’t care about what he did for a living, and the fact that he didn’t even do it anymore was all the more reason why it shouldn’t stop me. “Wow, that was really prophetic. The spa fumes must be going to my head,” Casey laughed.
I gave him a grateful smile, and he leaned across to take my hand in his. In doing so, he noticed my chipped finger nails. He made a tsking sound. “You ladies have a hell of a lot of work ahead of you.”
*
By the time I made it back to The Book Shelter, I expected the place to be locked up tight and Decker nowhere in sight. The door was definitely locked, but Decker’s car was still parked on the curb. After a dramatic air kiss, Casey ran off to his front door, his enthusiasm at sharing his Brazilian with Lionel both amusing and a little TMI. When I stepped into my apartment, I stopped dead in my tracks. Decker was standing in my kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of cargo shorts resting low on his hips. He was stirring something in a pot on the stove.
“Good timing,” he exclaimed as he took the pot off the heat. “Have a seat, dinner’s ready.” Had I died and gone to domestic heaven? The muscles in Decker’s back shifted and rolled as he dished up the plates and carried them to the table. “Country, stop eye fucking me and get over here,” Decker murmured. That got my feet moving. I sat down across from him, and he gave me a warm smile.
“How’d it go today?” I asked, taking a mouthful of what looked beef stir-fry. As soon as that forkful of awesomeness hit my tongue, any thoughts of Decker or the bookstore vanished. I should have been embarrassed about the long, throaty groan that reverberated from my chest, but I was too hungry to care. Decker watched with an amused smile on his face.
“The store, as I’m sure you noticed on your way up, is intact. I even used the coffee machine.” Even though I had given Decker a crash course in the art of making a good cup of coffee, he was pretty adamant he was going to avoid the thing altogether. In fact, when I had suggested he might need to use it, he had looked down right ill.
“Lionel did it, didn’t he?” I thought out loud.
Decker scoffed with what could have passed for exasperation if it hadn’t disappeared so quickly under a cheeky smile. “Yup, but I started it up.” I rolled my eyes.
Flicking the switch on the side didn’t really constitute a great feat in barista excellence.
“Bradley called.” The food that had been on its way to my mouth froze.
“He phoned the store?” I said, a little surprised.