And as I carefully made my way to the thermostat (that still had plastic wrapped around it), once I smoothed it over the screen, I saw Deke left my furnace set at seventy degrees so I’d come home to a warm, snug house.
I was grateful for thermostats and a new deck and creamy foam in my walls.
I was grateful for Jim-Billy.
I was grateful for fate setting my feet on that sidewalk so I could be there for a woman I barely knew, but she was a woman that needed me.
I was just grateful that the life I’d been born into already giving me so much, continued to offer me bounty.
I went back to my bedroom with my Twang magazines, my Baby Ruth bite-sized and jumped on top of the bed in my cozy, snug, gorgeous four-poster so I could munch chocolate and read an article that sang the praises of my bestest bestie.
Bounty.
Chapter Four
Prime Rib Sandwich
Justice
Upon Deke’s banging the next morning, I threw open the door, and in lieu of a greeting, I jerked a pointed finger to my nose and demanded, “See this?”
His gaze narrowed and he clipped in return, “Got eyes, don’t I?”
“Well, thanks to you,” I turned my finger and jabbed it his way, “it’s still where it’s supposed to be and didn’t freeze off last night.” I gave him a big grin I didn’t even know I had in me to give that early in the morning and cried, “I love insulation!”
For a second, he stared at me, blank.
Then something lit in his hazel eyes I knew I could bask in its warmth for eternity (so I pretended I didn’t see it, though did this poorly, but just enough to fight my desire to lean in, say, with my mouth touching his, to see it in close proximity).
And he gave me more.
“You’re a little crazy, gypsy.”
He said it like he thought it wasn’t a bad thing, a lovely nuance coating the rumble in his voice that I also could bask in for eternity.
I pretended I didn’t hear that as well, moved back, allowing him entry, and kept moving toward the hall to the garage, doing this speaking. “Coffee’s on, I’ll bring yours out.”
“Jus,” he called, and I stopped walking and turned back to him. “Max says you want the deck finished?”
“Yeah, do you mind?” I asked. “It’s looking awesome. I’m not going to be hanging in the utility room so it’ll be nice to have another change of space to hang.”
He nodded. “I’ll get on that.”
“Appreciated, Deke.”
He moved toward the glass door set in the wall of glass that led now, thanks to Deke, to the back deck.
I went to the garage to get him coffee.
*
An hour and a half later, showered, dressed and ready to hit town, this being finding somewhere with Wi-Fi so I could deal with emails coming in (specifically the ones from my interior designer), I opened the door to the back deck.
And Deke.
I again admired the herringbone way the boards were set in, making it just that much more interesting, and I did this so as not to admire the man working on the railing.
I didn’t have to call to him. The minute I opened the door, he’d stopped what he was doing to look at me.
“Hey,” I greeted, stepping out.
He jerked up his chin.
“Going into town,” I told him, stopping a few feet outside the door. “Need anything?”
“Nope,” he answered.
This made me curious.
“Do you bring lunch in your truck or something?” I asked.
“Yep,” he answered.
Wow. Deke packed a lunch.
Now I was surprised and curious.
“Water?” I went on.
“Yep,” he repeated.
“Cold water?” I pushed.
“Cold enough.”
Yeesh. He didn’t need to bring water.
I crossed my arms on my chest. “Dude, you can help yourself to the water in the fridge.”
“I’m good, Jus.”
“What’s for lunch today?” I asked.
“Bologna.”
“Yum,” I said.
He stared.
Then he asked, “You like bologna?”
“Well, cold, I can take it or leave it. Fry that up until it’s just a bit burnt with a slap of American cheese and put it on toast with loads of yellow mustard, dee—lish.”
He stared again, this time without speaking.
“What was for lunch yesterday?” I asked, still filled with curiosity, as, unfortunately, I probably always would be when it came to Deke.
“Bologna,” he repeated.
“Deke, you need variety.”
“Not sure about your eyesight, Jus, but I ain’t exactly wastin’ away.”
This was very true.
I grinned at him.
This made him look weirdly annoyed.
I decided to ignore that and get on with my morning.
I did just that, turning but saying loudly, “I’ll bring you a sandwich from the deli.”
“Don’t bring me a sandwich,” he said loudly back.
I stood in the open door and looked over my shoulder at him. “And chips. Maybe a cookie.”
“Jus—”
I slipped in, closed the door and walked across the creamy-white-foam-coated space to grab my laptop, head out the door and to my truck.
*
The only business I’d noted that had a notice that said free Wi-Fi (and theirs didn’t say free Wi-Fi, it said ???Free Wi-Fi!!!!???) was Carnal’s coffee house, La-La Land Coffee.