“That you like to have fun, I think. You like adventure and to laugh. The cinnamon toast says you don’t take life too seriously, but the gingerbread tells me you can when you need to. It’s a balancing act.” He likely sounded absolutely fucking ridiculous. He couldn’t believe he’d even said that shit, so he kept scooping, and Grady didn’t answer. It was driving Deacon crazy, and eventually, he had to look up and see if the man thought he was losing it or not.
This time it was Grady who had the weird look on his face—sort of pinched. “Now you have a lemon face,” Deacon pointed out.
“Sorry. That was just…pretty spot-on. You’re good at this.”
“Been doin’ it a long time, is all.” Deacon handed the bowl over, trying not to think too much on what Grady had said. He grabbed a spoon and passed that to Grady next, unable to stop watching him as the man dipped it in the bowl and took his first bite. The scoops were beside each other, so he could reach both, but Deacon noticed he only put one flavor on his spoon, going with the gingerbread nut cluster first.
Deacon waited.
Maybe held his breath.
Grady didn’t respond right away. He finished that, then went for the second flavor, taking his time with that as well. Deacon considered killing the man while he waited, wondering why he cared so much if Grady liked his ice cream or not.
Finally, Grady said, “Eh, it’s all right. Not bad,” with a smile curling his lips.
“Shut the fuck up,” fell from Deacon’s lips without any thought. The second he said it, he wanted the words back. He was pretty sure Grady had been joking, but he didn’t know him well enough to say for certain. Also, they were in Sundae’s Best, and he sure as shit didn’t talk like that in his place of business.
Grady laughed again, this time louder and more hearty. Deacon’s gaze darted over to see Olivia looking at them.
“What’s so funny over there?” she said with a smile.
“I’m giving him a hard time about his ice cream.” Grady turned to him. “This is incredible, Deacon. I can’t believe this is what you do. I would never have thought to put any of the flavors in each one together, but it’s delicious.” Grady took another bite as Deacon’s chest swelled with pride. He loved this, making people smile with his desserts.
Before he could respond, the bell dinged as the door opened. A few customers came in, and behind them, another employee.
“I don’t want to keep you,” Grady said.
“I’m actually done here. Juan just came in to help Olivia out.”
“Oh, I can wait, if you don’t mind. I’m sure you’re busy, or—”
“I got nothing going on,” Deacon replied, though it was still a bit surprising to him how the two of them had hit it off. Now they were…what? Going to hang out? He wasn’t even sure.
“Okay.” Grady took a few steps back, out of the way.
Olivia and Juan both came up to the counter, Juan washing his hands first. Deacon took a moment to welcome the customers. He’d seen them before, of course. He recognized most of the faces that came in. He was also good at remembering most people’s favorite flavor—at least those who ordered the same one most of the time. It was a running joke around Everett.
He didn’t talk long, excusing himself as his employees scooped their treats. Deacon told them goodbye, then slipped around the counter to meet Grady, who’d moved closer to the door.
“Sorry ’bout that,” Deacon said when they stepped outside. It was about four, and it would be getting dark soon. That was the downside to this time of year.
“You got nothing to apologize for. Plus, you gave me free ice cream. You keep supplying this, and there’s not much I won’t let you get away with.”
They chuckled, then both stood there, the awkwardness of it all suddenly pressing down on them—or at least that was how it felt to Deacon.
“This is kinda weird, huh?” Grady asked.
“Thank God. I was hoping it wasn’t just me. The circumstances, I suppose,” Deacon replied.
Grady took another bite. “We don’t have to let it be strange if we don’t want to. I don’t know about you, but I could use a friend. You’re home and all, which means you’re at an advantage. You already have a bunch of them and probably don’t need more, but—”
“I do,” Deacon answered honestly, and actually embarrassed. “After losing Patricia, I guess I stopped caring about much. People were concerned at first. They’d try to get me out, but after a while, when you stop saying yes, they stop asking. I know damn near everyone in Everett, talk to people everywhere I go, but there aren’t many I can call friends anymore.” It was his own doing. Deacon knew that, and it had never bothered him before. Not really. He’d always been good at being alone. He liked his solitude—even when Patricia was alive. But Grady intrigued him, and Deacon wanted to get to know him better.