Unfinished Hero 04 Deacon (28 page)

“It certainly is,” he retorted, turned, and
stomped by Deacon and down the steps.

Deacon and I watched him go. When he was out
of sight, he turned to me.

“You okay?”

“Not the first or the last time, honey.”

He nodded.

“Need a drink?” I asked.

“Yup,” he answered.

I grinned and walked into the house.

Deacon followed me, went straight to the
glass on the counter, and downed it in one go.

When he put it back to the counter, he gave
me his eyes.

“I can deal with that,” I said quietly. “I’ve
done it before, I’ll do it again. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t
feel super-awesome that you heard it going down, got off the roof,
and took my back.”

He didn’t move toward me, take my hand, cup
my jaw, get in my space, but he didn’t need to. His eyes said what
he needed to say.

“It also feels super-awesome that you make it
clear you’re at my back but you let me deal and don’t catapult us
into Badass Zone and take over.”

His eyes kept communicating but this time his
lips did too.

“Anytime, Cassie.”

I nodded.

“Anything, baby,” he continued.

God, that felt good, because I believed him,
mostly because he was proving it.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“I’d kiss you and feel you up, but I got shit
on my hands.”

I smiled and bossed, “Right, then go fix my
roof.”

That was when he moved to me, bent in,
brushed just his lips to my forehead, turned, and walked away.

* * * * *

A week later, my roof was fixed. The pots
littering my front porch and the steps that led up to it were
bursting with flowers and greenery. And Mr. Snyder and his family
were gone.

With downtime finally on our hands, I’d found
that Deacon did not hike. I’d also found that he did do lunch,
something we did in Gnaw Bone at a great place called The Mark. I’d
learned he didn’t have a motorcycle. I’d also learned when I
mentioned it that he wasn’t averse to the idea. Thus, we’d also
gone to Carnal to look at some restored Harleys a man named Wood
had for sale there. We took two for a test drive, me on the back,
pressed tight to Deacon, who not surprisingly knew how to ride.

And life got sweeter.

He didn’t buy a bike because one was red, the
other was silver, and Deacon wanted black. But we did give Wood my
number so he could call if they ever had a black one.

Now, I was in the kitchen with my phone to my
ear, my mom talking to me, my other hand carefully balancing a big
dish with my loaded potato casserole in it that I was trying to
shove into the oven at the same time listen to my mother.

I had not yet pulled out that casserole for
Deacon because it was a bit of a fiddle. But I knew he was going to
love it. I knew this because I’d also learned my man was a meat and
potatoes man.

Tomorrow, we were going to the breeder to
pick my puppy.

And life would be sweeter.

“You were right,” Mom said in my ear. “Titus
blew a gasket.”

I did not rub it in. For once, I remained
silent.

“He says he’s coming but he’ll be giving you
a call. He and Bessie will be staying at the house with you.”

“This is good, Mom,” I told her. “I had a
booking come in for that week that I had to turn down today because
I’m full. Now I can e-mail them and they can experience the glory
of Glacier Lily.”

I heard her chuckle.

Then I heard her say, “You sound good.”

I grinned as I successfully settled the
casserole dish on the rack in the oven. “I am good.”

There was silence for moment before she said,
“No, Cassie,
you sound good
.”

I straightened and kicked the oven door
closed with my foot then looked to the floor, not knowing how to
play this.

I lifted my eyes and turned them to the
kitchen windows. Through them, I saw Deacon in his chair, feet up
on the railing, eyes to the trees.

And I instantly knew how to play this.

My gaze went back to my feet.

“I’ve met a man.”

Mom said nothing.

“We’ve known each other awhile. He’s…he’s a
good man, Mom,” I told her. “He’s, well, no other way to put it,
he’s incredibly handsome. Very tall. A big guy. I…we, well, we’ve
moved it to the next level.”

“And that would be?” Mom asked when I said no
more.

“He’s staying with me,” I shared. “He travels
for a living but he has some downtime and he’s staying with
me.”

That received no response.

“He cleaned my gutters,” I said softly. She
didn’t reply so I kept going. “He noticed the rain running over
them and he cleaned them. He found they were in a bad state so then
he replaced them. After that, he took care of the ones on the
cabins. I helped, and he let me, but he did most of the work.”

Mom said not a word.

“Doing that, he saw the state of my roof so
he fixed that too. His downtime, not working, he spent days working
on the house and cabins for me.”

She still didn’t speak.

“I…I,” I stammered then whispered, “Mom, he
thinks I’m beautiful.”

She said something to that.

“You
are
beautiful, Cassidy.”

“He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,
Mom, and he told me he feels the same about me. He told me I could
be in magazines. He told me I’m the finest woman he’s ever known.
That means a lot since, outside Dad, he’s the finest man I’ve ever
met.”

“That isn’t a surprise either, angelface,
because you’re you. He’d have to be very thick to miss that.”

I felt my face soften, my lips tip up, and I
moved to lean a hip to the counter. “I really hope things keep
going this well, Mom, because I really want you and Dad to meet
him. Dad would love him. He takes care of me like Dad does, letting
me be me but being there to support me in being it.”

“So you see a future with this man?”

“Yes,” I said quietly.

“Does this man have a name?”

I closed my eyes tight as the only darkness
on a horizon that included Deacon blackened my mood. “John
Priest.”

“Strong name,” she remarked.

She wasn’t wrong.

I liked Deacon better.

“I’m happy for you,” Mom continued, now her
voice was quiet. “I’m happy because you sound happy. And I hope
this works out for you, too, honey, so I’ll get to meet him, but so
you’ll have someone to share your time with amongst the glory of
Glacier Lily.”

I grinned in the phone. “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you a whole lot more, angelface.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Let’s not debate it, because knowing my
daughter, that could take ten years and I don’t have that time.
Dinner’s nearly done and I need to feed your father.”

“Right, I’ll let you go.”

“Okay, Cassie, talk to you later, see you
soon, and again, so happy you found someone you like who likes
you.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“’Bye, Cassidy.”

“’Bye.”

We hung up and when we did, I took my phone
from my ear and stared at it. Then I set it aside, took in a deep
breath, and walked out of the kitchen.

I didn’t go to my chair.

I went to Deacon’s.

His head tipped back when I did and he put
his beer on the arm of the chair when I put a knee into the seat by
his hip. I swung my other leg over and settled astride him.

He rested his hands on my ass, his eyes never
leaving mine.

“She wants something,” he muttered like he
was talking to himself.

“Just got off the phone with my mom,” I
shared.

He made no response, not verbally, not
physically, just continued to look at me, waiting for me to go
on.

I took this as good. He could have shut down.
He could have tensed. He could have given some indication that
whatever it was I was going to share about my family that included
me getting close was something he wasn’t ready to be a part of.

“They’re coming out in August. Everyone. Mom,
Dad, my sister and her family, my brother and his wife. My aunts
and uncle.”

“Right,” he prompted when I said no more.

I got closer, my heart squeezing as I gave it
to him.

“I’d really like it if you worked it out with
your jobs so you could be here when they are.”

“Then that’s where I’ll be.”

I sat motionless atop him, staring in his
handsome face, shocked but filled with glee that that wasn’t only
his answer, but it also came quickly.

“You’re not…” I shook my head. “That doesn’t
freak you?”

“They come with you?” he asked.

“Absolutely.”

The skin around his eyes softened and his
fingers dug in my ass.

“I think I’ve made it pretty clear I want
you, woman. They come with you, I want that too.”

Oh God. I was
so
falling in love with
this man.

“Dad’ll like you,” I whispered.

“Yeah. I had a daughter in the middle of
nowhere, states away, and a guy worked on her roof in the heat so
it wouldn’t eventually cave in, I’d like him too.”

I smiled, tamping down the idea of Deacon
having a daughter.

And how he would get one.

“Though,” he kept going, “that would only be
until I was reminded he was sleepin’ with her. Then I’d go back to
wantin’ to shoot him.”

That was when I burst out laughing.

While I was doing it, Deacon slid a hand up
my spine until he had it curved around the back of my neck.

And when I quit laughing, I noticed that he
was not sharing in my amusement.

When he spoke, I’d know why.

“Means a lot, baby, you want me to meet your
family.”

I leaned closer to him. “Yeah,” I agreed.

“You give me the dates, I’ll make sure I’m
free.”

“Okay.”

He slid his hand to the side of my neck, the
tips of his fingers in my hair, his eyes moving over my face.

I let him. He had these moments occasionally,
when he was feeling something, something beautiful and big,
something about me, and since it was that, I wanted him to have
them.

When he shifted his thumb so it swept my
lower lip, I knew it was leaving him so I said, “I need to get down
to frying the chops.”

His eyes went from my lips to mine. “You need
a grill.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“Can you grill?”

“Do I have a dick?”

I smiled again.

“We’ll fight about who’s payin’ for that
tomorrow, on the way back from gettin’ the dog.”

I kept smiling. “You’re on.”

His eyes crinkled.

I leaned in and kissed him. It was meant to
be a touch but his hand at my neck tightened, his other arm lifted
to round me, and it became a whole lot more.

This meant I was breathing heavily when I
climbed off him and went into the kitchen to start the chops.

* * * * *

Hours later, after dinner (I was not wrong,
Deacon loved the casserole; he even said that, of a sort, while
forking it into his mouth, “This shit’s the shit, Cassidy,”) and
cuddling on the couch watching a movie, Deacon turned on the
news.

I tilted my chin to catch his eyes.

He felt mine and looked down at me.

“I’m turning in.”

“Gonna watch the top of the newscast then
I’ll be up.”

“Okay.”

He bent his head to touch his mouth to mine
and let me go.

I rolled off the couch and went upstairs.

When I got to my bedroom, I closed the door,
leaned against it, sucked in a massive breath, and took in the
room.

After I had the bathroom remodeled, this was
the first room I’d refinished.

The wood floors were gleaming. The threadbare
rugs had been removed and a large, thick, attractive one in soft
beige with muted pastel green, blue, yellow, and pink swirls on it
was under the bed. The two dressers were a mish-mosh I’d located
for a deal at an antique store, the wood light and battered but
they burnished in way that I thought was pretty. Matching iron
nightstands with drawers that had mismatching but lovely lights on
them. There were old, framed pieces of faded, but awesome
embroidered flowers I’d bought for five bucks each on the walls.
Walls that I’d painted a warm, soft oyster.

A year ago, I’d bought a new mattress. On it
was a down comforter with a feminine paisley cover that had a cream
background and subdued green, yellow, and blue design. Matching
shams. Cream sheets. But minimal toss pillows since they finished
the look of the bed but were a pain in the patoot to arrange every
day.

And my bed had a slatted head and
footboard.

Staring at it, I bit my lower lip.

Then I did what I decided I’d do during the
movie.

I went to the nightstands and turned on both
lights. After that, I went to the closet, got the ropes, took them
to the bed, and dropped them in the middle. That done, I went to my
drawer and pulled out one of only three sexy nighties that I owned.
A skintight red number made entirely of lace. I also snatched out
the matching satin panties.

I took them to the bathroom, changed, washed
my face, brushed my teeth, put the toilet seat down, and sat on it,
trying not to hyperventilate.

And there I sat.

Waiting.

And just like me, I did it hoping.

But (maybe for the first time in my life), I
didn’t have to hope.

Because I had a strong feeling that what I
wanted so badly was about to be given to me.

Give the Gratitude

I heard the bedroom door open and my body
strung tight.

I waited

I waited some more.

Then I sucked in a huge breath, got up, and
walked to the door.

I opened it, walked out, and stopped, my eyes
glued to Deacon.

He was standing by the bed, his eyes to me,
and it was a wonder they didn’t incinerate me on the spot.