The Man Who Has No Soul

by Victoria Quinn

  But it was Deacon.

  He turned to the coffeepot, ground his fresh beans, and then got the drip going.

  I was surprised to see him because he was usually at work by now…and he was also wearing light blue scrubs.

  I stared at him, seeing the deep vee in the front of his shirt that showed some of his hard chest, the stethoscope around his neck, the way the front of his shirt was slightly tucked into his trousers, the string tied into a knot.

  He poured himself a mug then leaned against the counter as he looked at me.

  I realized I was staring—a lot. “You’re at the hospital today?”

  He nodded.

  “When did that start?”

  “Monday.” One hand gripped the counter while the other held his mug at waist level, the steam rising to the ceiling.

  He looked good in everything he wore, but he looked particularly good in those scrubs. Maybe it was because it was the first time I’d seen him in a color besides black and gray. The blue was phenomenal on him. “I didn’t think you were still home.”

  “I don’t start until ten.”

  “At least you get to sleep in.”

  He drank his coffee as he continued to look at me.

  I realized I was there for a reason, so I got back to work and put his groceries away. “I got everything you asked for, but just to remind you, we have good chefs on call, so if you ever get tired of cooking, someone can do it for you.”

  He was quiet.

  It was the second time I’d asked him and his answer was the same, so I assumed he had his reasons for wanting to cook for himself. “I just got some of the inspections back last night. Looks like the cabin is in great shape.”

  “Good.” He took another drink.

  “It should be ready in a few weeks, but I might need some time with the designer to make it homier for you. Is there a specific time you intend to make your first visit?”

  He shook his head. “I have too much to worry about right now.”

  I nodded. “Of course. It’ll be ready for you whenever you are.” I understood his tastes well, so I knew I could make that place into a home away from home. I closed the cabinets and folded his reusable bags before I tucked them under my arm. “Anything else before I go?”

  “Yes.”

  I waited for him to elaborate, knowing he was considering how to say it.

  “I don’t like the hospital food. Could you bring me lunch every day?”

  “Absolutely.” I was happy to do something to make his life easier, to make his time at the hospital better, to give him something to look forward to while he did such a difficult job. “Do you want your usual? Or do you want me to surprise you?”

  “Salads and seafood.”

  “Alright. When do you take your lunch?”

  “Three.”

  “What hospital are you at?”

  “Mercy. Fourth floor. Cancer treatment center.”

  I nodded. “Got it.”

  He took another drink of his coffee before he set it in the sink.

  “What time will you be home?”

  “Sometime around eight.”

  “I can have dinner ready for you as well—just for the next few weeks.”

  He considered it before he nodded. “Alright.” He left the kitchen and grabbed his satchel from the dining table.

  I walked past him on the way to the door. “Text me if you need anything. I’ll make sure your scrubs are washed separately from your other clothes.”

  He turned to look at me, but instead of saying anything, he just nodded.

  “Have a good day.” I walked out.

  Instead of sending Matt or Anna to take care of Deacon’s lunch, I did it myself. I wanted to make sure it was there on time, make sure it was delivered to the right place. I cared about doing all our tasks with absolute flawlessness, but I particularly cared about the things that Deacon needed.

  I entered the busy hospital, took the elevator to the fourth floor, and then entered the station where the desks were located, the patient rooms along the outside. I didn’t have to check in with someone at the desk because Deacon was sitting alone at one of the desks, a monitor in front of him. He had a pile of charts around him along with his own laptop, and his head was bowed as he stared at the paperwork, his eyes shifting back and forth as he read whatever was in front of him.

  I quietly approached his desk and set the bag down, pulling out the containers of food without disturbing him.

  He didn’t notice me because he was so focused.

  I kept his food separated so the different items wouldn’t all taste the same. I added the dressing to the salad, shook it together, and then placed the salmon on top. He didn’t ask for it, but I’d also gotten him assorted nuts, a container of tropical fruit, hummus, and pita bread.

  He must have smelled the food because he turned to look at me, subtly surprised to see me there.

  I pulled out the utensils and placed them on the napkin. “Anything else before I go?”

  He stared at the food for a few more seconds, as if he couldn’t believe he got to eat something he actually wanted. He grabbed the containers and pulled them closer, pushing aside his charts so he could eat. “No.”

  I never got a thank-you from him, but I knew he appreciated everything I did.

  “I’ll see you later, then.”

  He lifted his gaze and looked at me, holding the eye contact for a few seconds, just staring at my face. “This all looks amazing.”

  I smiled. “I’m glad you like it.” I gave him a gentle nod before I walked to the elevator. While I waited at the doors, I turned back to him.

  His gaze was down again, and he dug into his food, eating quickly like he was starving. He was focused once again, as if our conversation never happened. He was oblivious to the stares he received from the women at their desks, the way they stared at his muscular arms, his thick hair. And the way they glared venomously at me.

  I was alone in the office, always the first one there, the last to leave.

  Footsteps sounded in front of me.

  I looked up, expecting to see one of my clients who had stopped by to say hello before taking the elevator.

  But it was Jake.

  He was the last thing on my mind. Even after I got his divorce papers, I’d stopped thinking about him by the time I woke up the next morning. Our relationship lasted for months, but now it was like it had never happened.

  Not for him, apparently.

  He was in a white tee and jeans, like he’d just gotten home from something casual. With his hands in his pockets, he stared at me.

  I sighed loudly, not hiding my annoyance. “Jake—”

  “I’m not married anymore. I’m legally divorced. She packed up her shit and left.”

  I dragged my hands down my face. “Jake, you’re missing the point here—”

  “I told her I had an affair. I was straight with her about it.”

  “You did what?” I hissed.

  “I didn’t tell her it was you, alright?” he said. “But I told her the truth. It hurt, but she appreciated my honesty. We’re on good terms now…for the most part. So, there’s no problem. It’s you and me.”

  “No, there’s no you and me,” I snapped. “Jake, we’re over.”

  “Why? We’re great together.”

  “No, the sex was great. But you were married—and that’s disgusting.”

  He shook his head. “Lots of people have affairs—”

  “Doesn’t make it okay. I’m ashamed that I’ve ever been with a married man. I know what it’s like to have a cheating husband, and it feels terrible.” My eyes smarted even though I tried to keep my emotions back. “I don’t want to be with you, Jake. I’m over our relationship. I’m seeing someone else.”

  He sighed quietly, like that hurt. “Then dump him and be with me.”

  “I don’t want to, okay? I’m not acting this way because I’m mad at you. I’m over you.”

  He sighed again,
like that stung.

  “I was hurt in the beginning, but I got over it. I moved on. I’m really tired of us still talking about this…” My words trailed away when I noticed Deacon standing near the elevators, staring at us like he knew something wrong. “Shit…”

  Jake glanced at Deacon before he turned back to me.

  “This is over, okay?” I whispered. “Let’s both move on.”

  Deacon walked toward us, still in his scrubs after the long day he’d had. His satchel was over his shoulder as he approached us. He must have seen the emotion in my eyes because he stared for several heartbeats before he sized up Jake. “Cleo, is he bothering you?”

  This man took me by surprise again, coming to my defense when he’d probably never done anything like that in his life. He didn’t understand social situations, didn’t understand how to talk to people, but he had no problem understanding I was in distress, and he had no problem confronting another man if he thought he was hurting me.

  I took a deep breath before I forced a smile on my lips, doing my best to defuse the situation. “Deacon, we’re fine. Mr. Patterson and I were just resolving a misunderstanding. I delivered the wrong dry cleaning and gave him someone else’s groceries.” I shifted my look back to Jake. “I’m so sorry about that. It won’t happen again.” I hoped Jake would play along with it instead of throwing me under the bus because he was emotional right now.

  He stared at me in annoyance, but he obeyed. “It’s fine, Cleo. Just pay attention next time.” He didn’t turn to walk away, like he wanted Deacon to leave so we could continue our conversation.

  But Deacon didn’t leave either, still staring at Jake, like he wouldn’t leave my side until he was gone. “If you’re going to yell at someone for messing up your dry cleaning and delivering the wrong groceries, you’re an entitled piece of shit. Don’t talk to her like that.”

  Jake turned his gaze on him, clearly provoked Deacon had just spoken to him that.

  “Deacon, it’s fine.” I was touched he’d stood up for me, but he didn’t have to do that. “Just a misunderstanding. Jake’s had a long day…no big deal.”

  Deacon continued to stare him down, using his signature intensity to intimidate Jake.

  Jake caved. “I apologize, Cleo. Won’t happen again…” He turned away and walked off, his footsteps echoing against the tile.

  Deacon stared at me in silence.

  The elevator beeped before the doors opened. Then Jake was gone.

  I sighed when Jake was out of the room. My secret had almost been spilled to the client I cared most about, and I was grateful Deacon was incapable of seeing the situation for what it really was because he just didn’t have the skills to read between the lines, to interpret the energy. If he were someone else, he would have seen right through my lie.

  Now that Jake was gone, Deacon dropped his hostile stare, returning to normal like nothing happened. He gripped the strap of his bag and came closer to me, looking into my face like he usually did. “I don’t care if he’s your most important client, no one should speak to you that way.”

  I hoped that was the end of Jake, that the harsh things I said were enough to get him to move on. He was a handsome billionaire who could have any woman he wanted. There was no reason to waste his time on me. “It’s fine. It’s over so…”

  Deacon continued to stand there even though he was probably exhausted by the long day, being on his feet at the hospital, taking care of other people. He didn’t need to linger, to worry about me when I wasn’t his problem.

  “Well, it’s getting late…” I closed down my computer and left the office, shutting and locking the door behind me.

  Deacon followed me.

  I headed toward the main doors and stopped at the elevator. “Have a good night, Deacon. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He didn’t move. “Have dinner with me.”

  He caught me by surprise—again. “The chef made one serving.”

  “We’ll split it.”

  Jake was gone, and Deacon had already made me feel better, made me feel comforted without even understanding the problem. I really didn’t need anything else, didn’t need him to take time out of his life to make me feel less alone. “That’s very nice of you, but I’m okay. These sorts of things happen all the time. I’m used to it.”

  “Then why were you crying?” He didn’t challenge me, just simply asked.

  I hadn’t cried over Jake. I cried because my husband cheated on me, and I would never forget that kind of pain, that kind of betrayal. The fact that I did it to someone else, some woman I didn’t know, just made me hate myself…even if I’d had no idea she existed. I tried to be kind to myself, remind myself I never would have done anything like that if I’d known the full story, but sometimes the guilt outweighed the logic. “It’s just been a long day…”

  He hit the button on the elevator. “Come on.”

  My heart started to ache, started to throb. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen on the outside—and the inside. “I don’t want to bother you—”

  “If you were bothering me, I never would have asked.” He held the doors open with his arm and nodded to the elevator. “Now, have dinner with me.”

  The chef made big portions, so there was definitely enough for both of us.

  We split a large filet of salmon with sautéed broccoli and wild rice. There was also a Brussels sprout salad with lemon vinaigrette. A fresh baguette was in the center of the table, and we both pulled off slices as we ate. We shared a bottle of white wine, sitting together in comfortable silence.

  He didn’t mention Jake.

  “How was the hospital?” I asked.

  “Patients are hopeful. The more they believe in themselves, the more likely they are to get better.”

  “You believe that?”

  “Absolutely. There’s scientific evidence to support it. I know that’s easier said than done, to be hopeful when you might be on your deathbed, but the patients who have something to live for are far more likely to survive with treatment.”

  I noticed if I asked him about work, he usually gave long-winded answers. “Do you like working with patients?”

  “It’s a part of the process—so, yes.”

  “It requires you to work with the nurses and other staff. How do you feel about that?”

  He shrugged. “I just keep to myself. I put my orders in the computer, and the nurses take care of it. I don’t have to deal with them much.”

  “That’s nice.” I knew he didn’t like verbalizing with anyone. Patient care was a social job. I imagined it was the most difficult part of his work—for him.

  When he finished his food, he waited for me to finish, didn’t pull out his laptop or stare at my face. Sometimes his gaze moved to the window, looking at the city lights illuminating the sky.

  I wished I were rich just so I could eat like this every night, come home to a chef-prepared meal. I didn’t care about the other things billionaires had, like second homes, yachts, fancy cars, someone to pick up the dry cleaning. I’d just like to have someone cook for me and do the dishes. That was a luxury I would probably never have.

  Once I was finished, I just sat there, tired now that my belly was full. I still had to take the long walk to my apartment, and I was dreading that. Maybe one day I could live in a building closer, although I shouldn’t complain that I could afford to live so close in the first place. Most people couldn’t.

  When I stopped looking out the window, I realized he was staring at me. I turned to him, seeing his chocolate eyes examine my features like he’d been looking for a while. When I met his eyes, I couldn’t ignore how handsome he was, how perfect his features were. I’d never had a type of man I gravitated toward, but I realized he was my ultimate type, with dark hair, dark eyes, and beautiful tanned skin. Ripped, strong, and quiet, he was a man who didn’t need to talk a lot. And his heart…he had such a big one.

  I turned away, knowing I was just tired and vulnerable right now. “Th
ank you for dinner.”

  “You’re welcome anytime.”

  I turned back to him, surprised at the offer.

  “I understand you work for me and there are boundaries, but we’re friends. If you ever have a bad day or just need someone to talk to…I’m always here.” His elbows rested on the table, and he stared at me with the same expression, hardly taking the time to blink, like his eyes didn’t need the break.

  I could stare at him forever, live in this simple bubble he built for himself. While others thought he was odd and difficult, I found his way of life refreshing. He said what he meant, didn’t muddle conversation with meaningless words, and only did what he really wanted to do. Now I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay—and forget everything else.

  Valerie had obviously saved my number because she knew exactly who I was when I called. “Hello, Cleo.” Her voice was feminine but slightly pretentious. Tucker had described her as a bombshell, but her looks obviously weren’t enough for Deacon to look past all her other flaws.

  But I pretended not to hate her. “Hey, Valerie. How are you?” I sat on my couch, calling her after a long day at the office.

  “I’m alright. How’s Deacon?”

  I assumed they hadn’t spoken. Every time I asked him, he either shook his head or didn’t say anything at all. “He’s alright. He’s been working at the hospital for the past week, doing patient care. He spends all his time working.” I didn’t tell her about the hookups, didn’t mention anything that would make her angry.

  “Sounds about right. That was all he ever did when we were married.”

  Because his job saved lives, it was important, it mattered…but she obviously didn’t care. And I didn’t believe what she said, because I knew Deacon always made time for his son. He probably just didn’t make time for her. “Yes, he’s very committed.”

  “So, what can I do for you?”

  I was hoping the reason behind my call was obvious. Guess not. “I was wondering if you’d given my request any thought.” It’d been a month since we last spoke, so I didn’t overwhelm her by constantly pestering her.