His Invitation

by Tanya Gallagher

  What made her rise to his challenge? She needed to stop falling for it when he provoked her.

  Deacon dropped the chair back onto all four legs. “Tell me what you really think, Sass.”

  But she couldn’t. Because what she really thought was how good he looked. And how much she enjoyed volleying with him. It felt natural. Fun, even.

  Emma rolled her eyes and lifted her tote bag onto her shoulder. “What I really think is I need to get to work.”

  Deacon leaned his forearms on the kitchen table. “Tell you what. I’m not saying I did anything wrong, but I can see how you might be upset about this morning.” He rapped his knuckles on the table. “Let me take you out for donuts this weekend to make it up to you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” He eyed her with suspicion. “I mean, how many donuts can you eat?”

  “The answer is a lot.” She clapped her hands together. “You are speaking my love language right now.”

  He smirked. “That’s what I was hoping for.”

  The glint in his eye made her pause. “Wait. Are you sure you don’t have an ulterior motive?” Deacon grinned, and she shook her head. “You know what, I’m just going to pretend I didn’t ask that.”

  She liked him enough to overlook how damn frustrating he could be. With him, every conversation and smile felt like an inside joke, but somehow she was on the inside. It was an appealing place to be.

  “Are you afraid of me, Sass?”

  “I’m afraid you’re contagious.”

  His gaze made something flutter in her stomach. “That’s exactly the point. One donut date with me, and you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

  “You’re bribing me, so it’s not a date,” she said. “And we’re roommates.”

  He lifted a lazy shoulder and stared down her lie. “If you say so, Sass. Guess we’ll find out.”

  Chapter 6

  Emma bit into a chocolate-glazed donut, and her eyes rolled back in her head in pure pleasure. “Oh my gosh, these are just too good.”

  Deacon’s gaze floated over her face, from her juicy lips to her closed eyes. She was gorgeous in an unassuming way, like the girl next door but envisioned by Sports Illustrated.

  “There’s no such thing as too good,” he said. “There’s good, and there’s better, and there’s orgasmic.”

  Her eyes flashed open at him on the last word. “Then these are orgasmic.”

  Over her shoulder, he could see donuts of every shape and size arranged on bakery racks stacked chest-high. They gleamed with the promise of sweetness, and even though he and Emma sat inside the tiny shop now, when they’d walked here from the car, the scent of sugar and fried dough had wafted all the way down the block.

  Deacon took a bite of his donut, and the pastry melted on his tongue. Yeah, the Pink Box donuts were some of the best he’d had in Vegas. Still, he shook his head at Emma. “They might be orgasmic donuts, but they only last ten seconds and then they’re done. Good sex lasts way longer. And it’s better for your heart.”

  She shot him a mischievous grin. “That may be true, but right now, this is the only thing I want in my mouth.” She held his eyes as she took another bite, then slowly traced her tongue over her lips.

  Jesus. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. What he wouldn’t give to take her into the back room and taste her right there…

  Deacon leaned over the round table between them. Emma’s tongue had missed a smudge of glaze just to the left of her lips, and he swiped it away with the pad of his thumb. Her skin was soft and warm, and Emma’s mouth dropped open as he stuck his finger in his mouth and licked the glaze off his thumb.

  He looked at her like a dare. “Sweet.”

  Emma’s eyes widened, and her eyelashes fluttered. She closed her mouth. Opened it. Closed it again.

  He sat back in his chair with a smug smile. “Ladies and gentlemen, take note of this historic day. I, Deacon Whistler, of Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania, have just rendered Emma Harrington speechless.”

  She scrunched her face. “I am not speechless.”

  There it was.

  “No, I guess not, Sass. So now that your mouth is working again, tell me about your other indulgences.” He set the rest of his donut on a napkin and counted off his fingers. “We’ve got breakfast foods. We’ve got donuts.”

  “Donuts are a breakfast food.” She lifted her pastry to illustrate her point.

  “They are, arguably, also a dessert.” Deacon caught her eye. “Once again, they’re sweet.”

  This time, she blushed.

  It was a good look for her.

  Emma bit her lip. “Okay, other indulgences…” She studied the hot-pink wall behind his head before dropping her eyes back to him. “I guess I like trashy reality TV shows.”

  He slapped a hand over his heart. “Say it ain’t so. You know that reality TV isn’t real.”

  She tossed a piece of donut at him, then seemed to think better of it and snatched it off the table to plop it in her mouth. “Of course. My brother works as an editor out in LA. It’s all fake. Every bit of it. But I still love it.”

  “So what’s the point?”

  “Well, I like a good story. Just because it’s created through editing or scripting and it’s not organic doesn’t mean it doesn’t have value.” He started to speak, but she cut him off. “I mean, I know there’s no deep meaning here. But sometimes the value is in being able to watch something and just enjoy it without having to think too much.”

  “But don’t you like thinking? I assumed that was a big part of your job.”

  “Oh, sure. I like thinking. But sometimes I want to turn it off. And there’s nothing better for that than a good episode of Mr. Eligible.”

  “Good in air quotes,” he said.

  “Right.” She laughed. “Good in air quotes.”

  Deacon lifted his donut and popped the last bite into his mouth. “Just tell me you don’t buy into the whole theory of finding true love on a rigged dating show.”

  Her lips quirked. “No, although who knows. Maybe if everything lined up, it could happen.” She wiped her hands on a napkin. “But I do believe in love in general.”

  “That’s right. You’re a matchmaker.” A single matchmaker, luckily for him.

  “You remembered.”

  “I did. Just don’t get caught up thinking life’s a fairy tale.”

  Emma shook her head. “Don’t worry, I don’t set my expectations too high.” She smirked at him. “After all, I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

  Deacon clutched his chest but grinned. “You’ve wounded my heart, Sass. Next time you’re buying your own damn donuts.”

  “Next time, huh?”

  “Next time.”

  Deacon pinched a nail between his thumb and forefinger and lined it up on one of the boards he’d bought with Emma at the home improvement store. Then he grabbed a hammer with his free hand and tapped the nail into place.

  He lowered the hammer and looked over his shoulder to where his friend Noah leaned against the wall of his garage. “Thanks for letting me build this here.”

  Noah rented a small, drafty house from his aunt, but the real draw of the place was the attached two-car garage. An ailing Dodge Charger rested in half of the space, but Noah had fashioned the other half into a tool enthusiast’s playground. As long as Deacon brought some sort of beverage, Noah had an open-door policy. It worked out well for both of them.

  “You got it.” Noah flipped a screwdriver into the air. “But I thought you already had a bookshelf.”

  Sawdust, motor oil, and paint fumes mixed in Deacon’s lungs as he drew in a deep breath. “This one’s for my new roommate.”

  The screwdriver fell to the floor with a clatter. “Shelley moved out?” Noah’s eyes bulged.

  Deacon’s hand tightened around the handle of the hammer. “It was a thing.”

  Noah raised an eyebrow. “I’ll bet. How’d you survive that one without the loss of life or limb?”
<
br />   “Who said I’m not missing a toe?” Noah groaned and picked up the screwdriver, and Deacon continued. “Anyway, this one was on Shelley. She didn’t tell me she’d started seeing someone new. And that she’d given him a key.”

  Noah bobbed his head. “And she picked him.”

  Deacon shrugged. “I don’t want to be a sore loser. The current situation is working surprisingly well in my favor.”

  “I take it your new roommate is a woman.” Deacon confirmed with a nod, and Noah chuckled. “And knowing you, I’ll bet she’s pretty.”

  “Gorgeous. And funny. And sassy.”

  Shit. It had been barely a week since Emma moved in, and now he was talking like someone on one of her reality TV shows. Next thing you know, his balls were going to shrivel up.

  “Uh-oh.” Noah waved a finger at him. “You can’t have a one-night stand with your roommate. It’s against the rules.”

  Deacon pinched his lips together. “There’s not a handbook.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Now you sound like Emma.” Deacon shook his head. “Anyway, I’m not saying I want a one-night stand with her.”

  Noah’s eyebrows inched higher. “So you don’t want to bang her?”

  “No. I do.” Deacon avoided Noah’s eyes by studying the paint can labels on the shelf behind his head. Behr, Valspar, Benjamin Moore. He felt like a grade-schooler with a crush.

  “You must really like her, then,” Noah said.

  Deacon shrugged.

  “In that case, go for it. You could use a little happiness.”

  Deacon couldn’t help the defensive note that crept into his voice. “I am happy. I’ve got a great job and all of Las Vegas at my feet. Most of the time literally.”

  “I mean the lasting kind of happy.”

  “I wasn’t talking about falling for her.” That was never going to be his end-game. Commitment wasn’t in his nature.

  “If you don’t want a one-night stand and you don’t want lasting happiness, what do you want?”

  Deacon’s mouth twisted. “Is there something in between?”

  Noah sighed. “I guess it depends on the girl. But usually no, Deacon. So don’t fuck things up.”

  “I don’t plan to.” He lined up another nail and whacked at it, harder than the last time.

  “Have you thought about what will happen if things go wrong? You’ll both be screwed.” Noah pointed the end of the screwdriver at him. “You don’t want another Shelley on your hands.”

  “Things aren’t going to go wrong.” Deacon reached for another nail. “I’ve got everything under control.”

  Chapter 7

  Aderyn Kingsley, Bex’s sister-in-law and the owner of The Walton bar, lifted a microphone to her lips and scanned the crowd. She located Emma, Bex, and Gabe at one of the wood-topped tables in the back of the tiny, dark bar and smiled at them. “Once again, Team Dildo is the winner of The Walton’s weekly Trivia Night. Thanks to everyone for participating, and Team Dildo, please see Colton over at the bar to collect your prize.”

  “Yes!” Bex cried. “The winning streak continues.” She flashed a smile at Emma. “Your deep-seated pop culture knowledge proves unmatchable.”

  Emma waved her hand in the air, beauty-queen style. “Thank you, thank you. I’d like to dedicate this award to my television, whose hours of entertainment gave me the support I needed to take my trivia career to the next level.”

  Gabe shook his head with a smile. “You guys are ridiculous.”

  Emma cupped a hand around her ear. “I’m sorry, what’s that you said? Thank you for helping me win a free pint of beer tonight?” She dropped her hand and sat back in her chair with a teasing smile. “You’re welcome.”

  Gabe laughed, and Bex leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Why don’t you go collect our prize, ace?” she asked.

  Bex swatted his butt as he walked toward the bar where their friend Colton played back-up bartender. Normally Bex’s brother, Sam, would be running the show with his wife, Aderyn, but ever since they’d adopted their son a few months ago, they’d split their shifts so someone could stay home with Weston.

  Colton looked at home behind the bar as Gabe approached, but Emma missed having him on their Wednesday night trivia team.

  Bex leaned forward, pulling Emma’s gaze away from the bar. “So I didn’t get to ask, how’s the roommate situation? Everything working out okay?” Candlelight from one of the votives on the table flickered on her face and made her red hair look like fire.

  “So far, so good.”

  Bex smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. Deacon seems nice, but he has a look to him.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma tilted her head. “He looks like a human. And if we’re being honest, a good-looking human at that.”

  Bex pursed her lips. “He looks like trouble.”

  “If he is, it’s the kind of trouble that keeps you up at night, fantasizing about what exactly he might do to you.”

  Bex swatted her elbow. “Emma! Seriously?”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “You and I both know that fantasy and reality are two different things. Just because I might think he’s hot doesn’t mean I’m going to act on it. He’s a player, and I have no intention of being played. I’m a committed-relationship kind of girl.”

  “Who do we think is hot?” Aderyn asked, stopping by the table to set down a pitcher of water.

  Emma’s face flamed, and she bought herself a minute by pouring herself a glass of water and taking a long swallow.

  Bex answered anyway. “Emma’s new roommate.”

  Aderyn tsked, and Emma choked on her water. She coughed and then sucked in a deep breath, glaring at Bex. “Alert the media, why don’t you? Anyway, everyone’s missing the point. Deacon is, categorically, hot. He’s also pretty fun to be around.”

  Aderyn shrugged. “That doesn’t sound terrible. And I do like living vicariously through you girls. The most excitement I had recently was putting decals on the walls of Weston’s bedroom.”

  “Oh, honey,” Emma said.

  “Yeah.”

  Bex tapped a finger to her lips, thinking. “I guess Dare does have a point.” She turned to Emma, her face brightening. “I’m just trying to look out for your best interest, but if you did want to get yourself into trouble, it would be fun to hear your stories. Ever since you moved out of your old place, I don’t get all the same Sara stories.”

  Emma grinned. “It’s probably just as well. Pregnant Sara puked on my favorite shoes. I’m going to guess her gag reflex is a little extra sensitive right now, if you know what I mean.”

  Aderyn and Bex broke into peals of laughter, and Emma couldn’t help but join in.

  Bex wiped tears from her eyes and gasped for breath. “Poor Max.”

  Emma took another sip of water. “I mean, technically he contributed to the problem.”

  Bex shook her head. “Oh, lord. Okay. Getting back on track, I know that your mind is in the gutter. But how are things actually going between you two?”

  “I don’t know. I guess we’re friends.”

  “Friends who think each other are hot?” Aderyn asked.

  “I mean, I don’t know what he thinks about me.”

  It was a lie, and Bex called her on it. “Oh, please. I might have had my arms full of boxes when I met him, but I saw the way he looked at you.”

  Emma flashed back to the way Deacon had stared at her on the couch when she’d caught him, um, coitus-interruptus. And how she felt right there with him, her own body throbbing with need.

  She shook her head to erase the thought. Deacon Whistler was a bad idea. “Just so everyone’s clear, I’m not going to sleep with him. Half the time we’re laughing, sure. But the other half we’re fighting because he’s sort of impossible when it comes to how he treats the women he brings home. But it’s not bad fighting. It’s like…” She shrugged. “I can’t think of the word.”

  A smug smile stretched Bex’s lips. “It’s like
foreplay.”

  Emma’s mouth dropped open. “I liked it better when you were still Team This Is A Bad Idea.”

  “I don’t know,” Bex said. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who told me there’s nothing like some good hot sex. Maybe you should try it.”

  “And report back,” Aderyn added.

  “What are we reporting on?” Gabe asked, returning to the table with the free beer they’d won.

  “Nothing,” Emma said. She reached for one of the pints in Gabe’s hand. “Because nothing’s going to happen. Now give me that beer. Your friends here are driving me to drink.”

  “There, I knew it.”

  Deacon’s voice sounded over Emma’s shoulder on Thursday morning, and she tumbled ungracefully out of the headstand she’d been holding.

  She glared up at him from her spot on her hot-pink yoga mat. “First of all, don’t ever scare someone who’s standing on her head. I don’t need a neck injury right now. Second of all, what did you know?”

  “That you’d do yoga. It goes hand in hand with your avocado toast.” His eyes sparkled with amusement.

  Emma groaned. “I haven’t eaten avocado toast in front of you.”

  “That’s a technicality.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, yoga isn’t some hipster thing. It’s an ancient practice.”

  Deacon’s lips pressed together in a smirk. “If you say so.” He rubbed a hand over his abs, because, once again, he seemed to think being indoors meant the dress code was clothing-optional. Emma’s mouth watered ever so slightly as he trailed his fingers over the hard ridges of muscle there.

  Dammit.

  Why did he have to be so good-looking? It made it way harder to stay mad at him.

  “So I’ve been thinking,” Deacon said.

  “That’s a new one.”

  He smiled at her, and she had to give him points for self-confidence. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  “Something to decompress from the week, probably.” She smiled at him. “Maybe a Mr. Eligible marathon and some wine.”