Page 30 of The Enemy Plot
“Plus, if you didn’t live with your uncle, you wouldn’t have met us,” Emma says with a wink. And with that, Lola gets up from her seat and wraps us in the biggest hug she can manage.
“Thank you again for tonight,” Lola says, her eyes glassy as we approach our joint building, where several people are standing out front, talking and laughing. “It was the best birthday I could have ever hoped for.”
“You’re welcome,” Emma says, bumping her shoulder.
We reach the bar, and its lights illuminate the otherwise-dark street. The place is overflowing with hockey fans and loud music. Immediately, I spot Deacon behind the bar, filling a pint glass with beer.
“I kind of wish Uncle Deacon could have been there,” Lola says, mirroring my thoughts. “I give him a hard time, but I guess he’s doing his best.”
“Well.” I glance at my watch. “It’s still your birthday, you know.”
“Yeah, but he’s working, and I can’t exactly go into the bar,” she says, shaking her head with a sigh. “It’s fine. I had a nice time with you.”
As she’s hugging Emma and me, Deacon notices us and comes to the door.
“Hey,” he says, glancing at each of us in turn. “How was your night?”
“Great!” Lola gushes before wrapping her arms around his chest. “Thank you for letting me go.”
His resting scowl breaks, and he looks at me. I can only guess what he must be feeling—joy, surprise, relief. He taps his hand on her back, and she pulls away from the embrace. She hugs both Emma and me one more time before saying goodbye and skipping upstairs.
“Thanks,” Deacon says, “to both of you. For taking her.”
“No problem,” Emma replies, squinting at him as if she’s trying to decipher a puzzle.
“So, I guess now we’re even.” I prop a hand on my hip, shooting him a questioning look.
He drapes the towel he’s holding over his shoulder. “I guess we are.”
“Though, I did take your niece to a concertandtreated her to ice cream afterwards. So there might be a slight shift in the balance,” I add, a smile teasing at my lips.
He presses his own lips together, and I hate it, because he’s only doing it to withhold his smile. “I’m pretty sure murder trumps concert, Frenchie. Looks likeyoustill owe me.” His smile finally breaks free, and it’s like I just took a shot to the heart.
“See you around, neighbor,” I say, spinning to walk away.
“Bye, Frenchie.”
“Oh, and Deacon.” I turn around. “It’s still Lola’s birthday for another hour. You should go upstairs and celebrate with her. She’d love that.” I rummage through my purse. “Here’s a candle and a lighter.”
Taking a step toward him, I place the two items in his hand. And as my fingers connect with his skin, that weird electricity thing I only ever read about in books happens. Now I know it’s a real thing. The jolt sends tingles down my arm and makes my heart do a somersault.
“Okay,” he says after what feels like an eternity.
I remove my hand, and our eyes lock for a split second, until Emma loudly clears her throat.
“Anyway,” I say, taking an awkward step back. “Be sure to spend some time with her. Bye.”
“Thanks, Frenchie,” he says as I’m walking away.
I glance over my shoulder. “By the way, getting you on your niece’s good side by making her feel special? Thatdefinitelytrumps murder.”
Then, he does something I never thought possible. He chuckles, loud enough to be mistaken for a full-blown laugh, but still low and rumbling. My body flushes with heat upon hearing the sexy sound, and I wish I could record it to listen to his gravelly chuckle on replay. “Fair enough.”
Emma and I walk to our front door, and as soon as we’re inside, going up the stairs, she halts on the middle step and swings to face me. “Okay, what the heck was that?”
“Nothing,” I say, continuing up the steps.
She lays a hand on my arm to stop me. “That wasnotnothing. That was you and our neighborflirting. Like, in a gross, super obvious way.”