Decker observed me. His eyes swept over my lips, dipped along the curve of my neck before landing at my cleavage. I sucked in a breath of air, making his hooded eyes travel back up to meet my gaze. Time seemed to slow. It contradicted my racing pulse. It felt like an invisible tether was pulling us together, an unavoidable force that gave his gaze the power to cause goosebumps to travel across my heated skin.
He leaned in closer. “You don’t need it,” Decker whispered before straightening and taking a bite of toast. I watched his slow chews for a moment and followed the bob of his throat as he swallowed. He stared at his plate before speaking again. “I already got you the job, by the way.”
My mouth dropped open in shock. “What?” I asked incredulously as sour frustration crashed into me. “If you already got me the job, why’d you make me tell you all of that?”
“I can’t protect Lance unless I have a clear understanding of you, Blakely.” His statement made me both angry and heated. I liked to hold my secrets close to my chest. I wasn’t some map to figure out. I didn’t want to be manipulated into sharing my pain. It was mine. Mine to hold. Mine to bare. Mine to navigate.
“There’s not much to understand,” I replied with steel.
He turned from the sink and rolled his eyes. Walking over to me, he placed his fingers under my chin and tilted my head up to look at him. I felt my cheeks heat at the contact. “I thought we were telling the truth, huh? You’re like a puzzle, and you know it.”
“Why do you care so much? You don’t know me,” I whispered. Maybe that was the crux of things. No one had ever bothered to figure me out before, so why now?
“Maybe we have more in common than you think, Blakely,” he whispered, and I could smell the coffee on his breath. We were locked in a standoff I didn’t want to end. “Go get dressed. You’ll need to leave in an hour.” He pulled away and started picking up my breakfast plates.
“Where are we going?” I asked, feeling like I was losing at a weird, emotional tug of war.
“I’m not going anywhere. Your shift starts in an hour,” Decker replied with a smile.
4
Blakely
The restaurant was a block away from Lance’s loft, which was good considering Decker only gave me an hour’s notice to get there. I liked that I could easily walk to work and save money on gas. There was also the added benefit that this area of town wasn’t too bad to travel alone at night. If I had the late shift, I wouldn’t have to worry about walking home. My old Corolla, Roxy, probably wouldn’t last much longer. It seemed like she was done hanging on to her last transmission now that Mama was dead. I honestly couldn’t wait to be rid of the old car with its stained seats and cracked windshield.
Decker told me to call him when my shift was done so he could pick me up, but I had no plans to do that. I already felt like I owed him for getting me the job, and I didn’t want to feel even more indebted. In my experience, people rarely gave anything without expecting something in return, and at the rate I was going, I’d be paying him and Lance back for the rest of my life. That thought didn’t sit well with me.
Memphis day drinkers were out in full swing despite the early hour. They clutched beer bottles in their fists as they walked the streets and chatted. It was like the party never stopped here. Sports fans crowded around bars, overflowing onto the sidewalk as they watched a pre-season football game on a flat screen while knocking back beer. I didn’t actually know what team was playing, but everyone seemed to cheer them on.
Street performers sang bluesy tunes, hoping for tips as an artist drew a mural with chalk on the ground. I liked Memphis. People marched to the beat of their own drums. It had that deeply Southern form of hospitality that reminded me of Texas, and yet boomed with an invigorating vibrancy that danced at a faster pace than my old town. When I first learned that Lance moved here from Chicago, it surprised me. But even after just a few days in Memphis, I understood the appeal.
I passed a pink and blue mural painted on white brick, with a pair of wings spanning the entire building. I paused to stare at it, thinking about how the beautiful portrait fit my mood. Memphis felt like freedom, and I decided that if and when things didn’t work out with Lance and me, I’d probably stay.
I was surprised that Lance agreed to me getting a job. All week, he’d been entirely against me working, making me so busy with his sibling bonding agenda that I didn’t even have time to fill out applications. I worried that his determination to keep me at home was some sort of power play. Some men didn’t like an independent woman, they wanted the people in their lives to rely so heavily on them that they didn’t have a choice but to stay. I didn’t want to believe that about Lance, but the thought still crossed my mind any chance it got.
I couldn’t help but wonder if Decker was the one to convince Lance to let me work. Although he was an asshole, he understood my thought processes. Decker might have called me lazy at breakfast, but something told me he was just saying that to press the wound in my chest. Decker wanted to make it bleed so he could examine it, not to actually inflict any damage. I also got the sense that he understood my need for independence—my need to not rely on anyone else—and I liked that.
There was something about Decker Harris that got under my skin. He was persistent and observant. I didn’t understand if it was out of some duty to his best friend or if he took on projects like me regularly. Regardless, my life leading up to this point made me chronically suspicious. It would take more than a handsome face and a job before I trusted him. He might have been determined to figure me out, but I was just as determined to shy away. I rarely trusted people, and I had no intention of putting my faith in him until I figured out his intentions.
The restaurant looked more like a bar than a barbecue place. When I walked up to the front door, loud music was reverberating from the inside, making the windows shake. It was only noon on a Saturday, but already the career alcoholics lined the bar, joking and watching the flat screens.
The name Huck-a-poos BBQ in bold red letters was painted on the brick near the front entrance. I took a moment to stare through the window, noting the short shorts and tight tank tops that the waitresses wore. Looking down at my own outfit, I realized that this place wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. Did Decker regularly go here? Did he know what I’d be wearing? A couple of guys speaking loudly and patting each other on the back shoved past me before opening the door to go inside. I decided to swallow my reservations and follow behind them.
The location was ideal, and waitressing jobs typically had good tips. Not to mention the place was busy, which meant lots of opportunity for work.
Clasping my fingers in front of me, I walked up to the hostess station where a blonde with smeared black eyeliner was standing. She was beautiful. Her tight tank top, which boasted the restaurant’s name, looked stretched thin across her large breasts. Smacking her gum, she looked me up and down before speaking. “Table for one?” she asked, albeit condescendingly. “We also have open seating at the bar, though I’ll need to see your ID.”
I started fishing around my pockets, trying to find the scrap of paper with the woman’s name that Decker said would give me the job. Pulling it out, I read the scrawled script, then spoke. “I’m here to see Rose?” I hated how uncertain I sounded. Usually, any jobs I got were based on my own merits. I never had anyone else do the initial leg work for me. “A friend of mine said she had a job for me?”