His Invitation Page 3

  Gah—she shouldn’t be thinking like that.

  “Guess you’re pretty pissed about last night,” Deacon said.

  Actually, yes.

  Emma tore her gaze away from his hands and met his eyes. Her mouth twisted into a frown. “About that. If we’re going to live together, we’ve got to set some ground rules.”

  Deacon smirked. “Like what?”

  It would have been easier to do this if he wasn’t half naked. “For starters, no having sex anywhere I might sit to eat my Fruit Loops.”

  He just laughed. “Fruit Loops, huh? I would have thought you’d be one of those avocado toast or smoothie girls.”

  “Are you calling me a hipster?”

  His eyes took a slow pass over her body, skimming her hips and her breasts. “I’m saying you look healthy. And you know what they say, if you want a body like a Cadillac, you can’t put shit in the gas tank.”

  A warm flush rose on her skin. He had noticed her body. But how was she supposed to take that strange compliment?

  “I like balance.” Emma crossed her arms over her chest. She hadn’t worn a bra, and with her luck, Deacon would have X-ray vision. “And breakfast foods are one of my indulgences.”

  “One of them? What are your other ones?”

  From the glint in his eye, his mind was wandering to some very dirty places right now. Was he imagining her in the place of that brunette from last night? And why did she want him to? Emma didn’t know him very well yet, but it didn’t take a genius to spot a player in the wild. The polar opposite of her type.

  “That’s not the point,” she huffed. “You’re getting me off track. Let’s keep things sanitary, okay?”

  “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I use protection.”

  She rolled her eyes and lifted the cleaning spray into the air. “Once again, not the point.”

  “Okay, Blondie.” He gave her a shit-eating grin. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. House rule number one: no sex where Emma eats her Fruit Loops.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Nothing for now. But I reserve the right to revisit this discussion.”

  Deacon nodded. “Okay then.”

  Emma crossed the room and tossed the cleaning gear back under the kitchen sink. “Well, now that that’s settled, I’m going to get out of here.”

  “Where are you going?”

  She shrugged. “Furniture shopping. That giant suitcase yesterday was filled with books, but I don’t have a place to put them.”

  “What store are you thinking?”

  “IKEA, probably.”

  Deacon’s face went sour, and he shook his head. “No way, Emma. IKEA’s not going to work.”

  “Why not?”

  Deacon’s face lit, but he didn’t answer.

  Emma sighed. “Why do I feel like I’m about to get into trouble?”

  He rubbed his hands together, his eyes gleaming. “Because you are.”

  Chapter 4

  Emma sorted through the bins on the home improvement store’s metal shelving and lifted out a small white box. “Are these the right kind of nails?”

  Deacon took the box from her hands, and as their fingers brushed, a small, electric zing raced up his arm. He scanned the label. “Yeah, these will work.” He tossed them into the bright orange shopping cart that Emma had parked across the aisle.

  She stood and brushed her hands on the thighs of her jeans. They were a tight, dark number, and they highlighted her curvy ass. Not a bad view. Although, surprisingly, the sweatpants she had been wearing this morning were also kind of hot.

  Maybe it wasn’t the clothes.

  Maybe it was the girl.

  Deacon shook his head at the thought and pushed the shopping cart toward the main aisle of the store. “Up next, lumber.”

  “Oh, goody.” Emma’s voice was dry and sarcastic.

  “Am I sensing a lack of enthusiasm?” he teased.

  Emma laced her hands together as she walked. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate today’s field trip, but remind me why I couldn’t just go to IKEA for a bookshelf?”

  He snorted. “I’m not letting you buy a crappy bookshelf. It would be a travesty to put an IKEA piece next to that beautiful bed of yours.”

  She cocked her head at him, her blue eyes sparkling. “You talk awful nicely about a piece of furniture.”

  “I should. I made it.”

  Her eyes widened. “Impressive.”

  What was impressive was the way she had held his eye last night, the two of them connected for one unbelievable second while Jessica had writhed her way into an orgasm on his cock. It was Emma he’d been thinking about when he crossed over that line a few minutes later, but by then she was long gone, her bedroom door slammed behind her.

  Deacon grinned at Emma now. “I’m going to make you a bookshelf to match that bed. I’m good with my hands.”

  An endearing blush spread across her face, and she dropped her eyes. “That’s the second time you’ve said that,” she muttered.

  “That’s because it’s true.”

  They passed through the store’s lighting section to get to the lumber area, and warm light cast a glow on Emma’s smooth skin. She stopped short just before the last aisle in the department.

  “What?” he asked. He followed her gaze to an enormous crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling.

  “It’s so pretty.”

  Her eyes sparkled back at the lighting fixture, and he smiled. “What are you, a raccoon?”

  She flicked her eyes to his. “A raccoon?”

  “They like sparkly things.”

  “In that case, maybe.” He shook his head, and she met his teasing grin. “Don’t hold it against me.”

  “Flowers and sparkles. You are such a girl.”

  She poked a finger into his bicep. “You knew what you were signing up for.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t know about that.” When she’d answered the ad, he’d thought the girl in front of him might be pretty chill, and she was easy enough on the eyes to make him think of a bunch of inappropriate thoughts. But after last night and that charged look they’d shared, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. That part, he hadn’t counted on.

  Emma smiled at him. “Aww, so I’m just more awesome than you anticipated?”

  “You tell yourself that, Blondie.”

  “Blondie again?” She crossed her arms and looked up at him.

  “What?”

  Emma pursed her lips. “Considering that you’re blond, too, it just doesn’t seem that creative. I feel like you can do better.”

  “Sure, Sassafras.”

  She groaned. “You know, on second thought, Blondie was just fine.”

  “Too late, Sass.”

  She sighed and stomped toward the lumber section, her blond ponytail bouncing.

  “Come on, Tater Tot,” she called over her shoulder. “Let’s go get some wood.”

  “Already got some,” he said, and Emma glanced back and waved her middle finger at him.

  He grinned and followed her.

  Emma tossed her car keys into the ceramic bowl on the kitchen counter and walked over to the refrigerator. “How long’s it going to take to make my bookshelf?”

  Deacon kicked off his shoes by the front door. “A few weeks, maybe. I’m going to build it over at my buddy’s house since we don’t have a ton of space for it here, but that means I need to work around his schedule.”

  “Okay, I can live with that.” She opened the refrigerator and lifted out a half-eaten container of yogurt. Then she grabbed a spoon from the drawer and ate the yogurt standing up at the kitchen counter.

  Deacon shook his head with a smile. “Are you hungry every five minutes?”

  Emma dipped her spoon into the container and pulled it out again. “Don’t get mad that I made you stop for french fries. As the driver, I feel like it was well within my rights to hit the drive-through. Next time you can drive.” />
  “I told you, my motorcycle wouldn’t have been able to fit any supplies.”

  She grinned. “Ah, but it would have been fun to try.” She closed her lips around the spoon and sucked it clean.

  Deacon swallowed hard. He needed to stop watching this woman eat. It made him imagine her mouth filled with other…things.

  A few more bites and she dropped the spoon into the sink. “There. All done.” She leaned against the counter. “So, what do you have going on for the rest of the day?”

  He shoved a hand into the pocket of his jeans. “Heading to work in a few, actually.”

  “Cool.” She drummed her fingers on the kitchen counter. “If you’re a tequila brand ambassador, does that mean you go to different bars every night?”

  “Something like that. Bars, clubs, pools at the big hotels.”

  “And you get paid to party?”

  Deacon lifted an eyebrow. “I get paid to promote and personify the Pináculo Tequila brand. My job is a combination of marketing and bartending. Sometimes I do cocktail demonstrations or give people shots. Other times I talk to distributors and the media, or I host educational seminars.”

  Emma smiled. “Sounds like fun.”

  “It can be.” Sometimes it felt like tempting fate and the devil by staring into the face of his past and daring it to claim its dues. A debt was owed. It was just a matter of time.

  Deacon forced a smile on his face. “Speaking of which, I’ve got to get ready for tonight.”

  “Going any place particularly cool?”

  “The Bellagio.”

  “Not bad.” Emma pulled open one of the kitchen drawers and removed a lighter, then lit one of the candles she’d dragged out onto the kitchen counter this morning. One of her “accessories,” no doubt.

  The air filled with the smell of cupcakes.

  Deacon pointed at the flickering flame. “Did you get a candle that also smells like food?”

  “Red velvet cake.” He laughed, and Emma narrowed her eyes. “Don’t judge.”

  The alarm on Deacon’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he stepped out of the kitchen. “That’s my reminder to get my ass in gear.” He smiled over his shoulder at her. “Just don’t set the house on fire, okay?”

  Emma batted her eyelashes at him. “Yes, Daddy.” Then she slapped a hand over that luscious mouth of hers. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”

  “You mean so sexual?”

  She blushed. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Tater Tot.” She flicked the lighter on and waved it like a warning. “Go to work.”

  “Only if you promise the building will still be standing when I get back.”

  “I promise,” she grinned. “Now go.”

  Chapter 5

  Emma was three bites into her bowl of Fruit Loops on Wednesday morning when a skinny blond woman wearing hoop earrings and no bra appeared in her kitchen like a mirage.

  “Hi,” the woman said, shuffling from foot to foot like a kindergartener who had to pee.

  “Hey.” Emma darted a glance down the hall where the blonde had come from, but Deacon’s door was closed.

  Goddamnit, Deacon.

  Emma sighed. She had to be at work in a few hours, and it was too early in the morning to be playing babysitter. Still, she couldn’t be rude.

  “Want a bowl of cereal?” she asked. She couldn’t figure out what Deacon actually ate. Tequila was not a food group, but other than her cereal, it appeared to be the only thing in the cabinets at the moment.

  The woman nodded in relief, and Emma gestured at the kitchen. “Help yourself. The dishwasher’s clean, and there’s milk in the fridge.”

  Maybe she should bill Deacon for a hospitality fee. First the cleaning. Now the breakfast-making.

  The girl fixed a bowl of cereal and carried it to the table, along with an empty bowl and spoon. She picked the chair farthest from Emma and sat gingerly, swirling her spoon into the cereal.

  She took a bite and then made a face. “I don’t know how you eat this,” she told Emma. “There’s so much sugar in these things.”

  Really, who insulted free food?

  Emma bared her teeth in a grin. “I figure it helps my sweet personality.” The sound of footsteps made her look up, and she shook her head as Deacon strode down the hallway and into the kitchen.

  He was shirtless. Again.

  Apparently being half-naked was his uniform, but at least he looked good.

  Deacon scowled as he took in the chummy little sight in front of him—his roommate, his one-night stand, a breakfast table set for three.

  “Can I talk to you in private?” The smirk fell off Emma’s face at his expression.

  She pointed to herself. “Me?”

  “Yeah, you.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “My Fruit Loops are going to get soggy.”

  “Please.”

  She sighed. “Fine.” She let Deacon lead her into his room. She hadn’t actually been inside since the tour he’d given her on the day they met, and being inside Deacon’s room felt like tumbling down the rabbit hole. On closer inspection, his bed frame displayed the same fine craftsmanship as the one in her room, but that’s where the similarities between their rooms ended. While Emma made her bed every morning, Deacon’s sheets were rumpled, and the comforter spilled off the bed and onto the floor. She tried not to flinch as her eye snagged on the bra hanging from the corner of his headboard.

  Deacon closed the door behind them, and the whole world felt small and close.

  He stepped up next to her and nudged her shoulder, so she had to turn and face him. “Why’d you get so red, Sass?”

  She didn’t even try to deny it this time. “It smells like sex in here.” She wrinkled her nose.

  Deacon flashed her a shit-eating grin. “Well, last I checked, you didn’t eat your Fruit Loops in my bed.”

  She nodded. “Sure. So why am I here? My breakfast is getting cold.”

  “You breakfast already was cold.” A muscle flexed in Deacon’s jaw. Over his shoulder, light from the window highlighted the smooth curves of his guitar. A pair of beaten drumsticks etched with the initials S.W. sat on his windowsill, but there were no drums in sight. “I need you to be a little less accommodating to our guest,” Deacon said. “Don’t let her get the wrong idea about the situation.”

  Emma stiffened. “And what would the wrong idea be? That you want to see her again?”

  He shot her a cocky smile. “She didn’t come over last night with expectations, Sass.”

  The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Do you treat everyone in your life like they’re disposable?” And if he thought everyone was disposable, did that make her temporary too?

  Deacon flinched. “I’m not necessarily a one-woman kind of guy, but that’s my choice. And my friend out in the kitchen isn’t a one-guy kind of woman.”

  “Whatever.” Emma shook her head and huffed out a breath. “Fine.” Her voice betrayed more bitterness than she wanted him to hear.

  Deacon reached out to rub her shoulder, his fingers strong and warm through the fabric of her shirt. “Emma, it’s okay.” His voice was a low, soft plea.

  She shouldn’t be getting so worked up about this, but she was. “You are gross,” she spat back.

  “We’re all grown-ups here.”

  “Then be a grown-up and handle your own mess. Consider that rule number two.” She stormed toward the door. “I’m going to take a shower before work, and when I get out, she’d better be gone.”

  Deacon was slouched across a chair at the kitchen table when Emma strode out of her room. He shoved a spoonful of Fruit Loops into his mouth and munched thoughtfully as she slipped her feet into a pair of heels. “You know, these really aren’t that bad.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course not. Fruit Loops are delicious. I have good taste.”

  He grinned. “And you picked me as your roommate. I guess that must mean I’m awesome by default.”

  She pointed
at the logo on the box. “Just follow your nose for the fruity taste that shows!” She shrugged at him. “You’re fruity, all right.”

  Emma glanced around the room but didn’t see the blonde. She opened her mouth to ask, but Deacon cut her off before she could comment. “She’s gone.”

  She pressed her lips into a smug smile. “Thank you.”

  “It’s fine. I told you, she needed to leave anyway.”

  “Right.” She wrinkled her nose. “Why did you have to remind me you’re kind of an asshole about women?”

  “I’m not an asshole.”

  She put a hand on her hip. “You used her.”

  “We used each other.”

  “Same, same. You know what—” Emma ground her teeth and reached for the tote she carried to work, then pulled out a wad of condoms. “Here.” She dropped them on the table between them, and a grin tugged onto her lips as Deacon raised an eyebrow. “At the very least, if you’re using a person, use a condom together.”

  “You sure have a lot of these, Sass.”

  “Consider it some off-the-clock promo for my employer.”

  He reached for one of the foil packets and flicked it between his thumb and pointer finger. “You work for X Enterprises? Isn’t that a sex toy company?”

  “One of the biggest in the world, actually.”

  His mouth dropped open. “Holy shit.”

  “Don’t look so surprised.”

  “I’m impressed.” He leaned back in his chair, popping it onto its two rear legs. “You’ve got a lot of layers.”

  She shrugged. “Don’t we all.”

  Deacon nodded slowly. “True. So what’s your job? You a model for the molds or whatever?”

  Emma shook her head. “I’m going to take that as a twisted compliment. But, no. I’m the Quality Control Manager.”

  If it was possible, his smile got even wider. “Now the obsessive-compulsive cleaning and your penchant for making rules make sense.”

  “Trust me—I’m making sure our condoms don’t fail, so idiots like you don’t knock up your one-night stands. It’s a little cooler than you’re giving me credit for.”