This was because badasses melted in the face of pregnant German Shepherds.
But the sweetness that came over Deacon’s features when he trained his gaze to the young boy was a vision so magnificent it was almost, but not quite, painful to behold, such was its beauty.
I knew Milagros saw it too and felt the same way I did. I knew this because she leaned in to me and did it deep, like she couldn’t hold up her own weight.
“I get things for people,” Deacon explained.
“I’m Gerardo,” Gerardo shared.
“I’m John,” Deacon lied.
“Hola, John.”
Deacon smiled.
“Dios mío,” Milagros breathed.
Good to know I wasn’t the only one.
“Mi amor, it’s late. We should let John have his dinner,” Manuel called to his wife.
“No!” Esteban yelled and I looked his way to see he’d had his face wedged in the sliver of an opening of the fridge door, the only thing he could get with Milagros and me standing in his way. “Tía Cassidy has lemon pie with that fluffy stuff on top.”
I felt the awe leave Milagros as she set up to let loose on her son but she didn’t get there in time.
Her husband did.
Thus ensued a wave of Spanish where I caught only a few words—all of them fatherly in a scary way—then I heard the fridge door close and watched an ten-year-old boy shuffle toward his father with head bowed.
“Lo siento, Cassidy,” Manuel murmured.
“It’s okay,” I replied on a smile. Then I said to Esteban’s back, “I’ll save some for you.”
“Thanks, Tía Cassidy,” he muttered.
“Mis hijas!” Milagros shouted. “Nos vamos! ándele!”
Pandemonium ensued as the girls rushed in from the porch. They didn’t bother attempting to take turns with giving me a hug, they pretty much collided with me, squeezed me, and dashed out, waving perfunctorily at Deacon (with Silvia, I noticed, avoiding his hot guy eyes in a sweet, shy girl way). Esteban and Gerardo didn’t bother with hugs, they just shouted their farewells, Gerardo giving cute waves, and raced after their sisters.
“We should have called,” Manuel said as I heard the front door being opened.
“You’re welcome here anytime,” I replied, moving his way. “You know that.”
His eyes slid to Deacon. They were not questioning, they were assessing.
I felt Milagros come up to my side. “We must have you to dinner. Are you here long?”
It took effort not to whoop with glee when Deacon answered, “Got a break. I’ll be here three, four weeks.”
“Then we’ll have time,” Milagros stated, holding out a hand. “Good to meet you.”
“Same,” Deacon replied, taking her hand and clasping it before letting it go.
“We’ll see each other again,” Manuel said, offering his own hand.
Deacon took it and replied, “Look forward to it.”
I gave Manuel a kiss on the cheek, same to Milagros with a hug, and we walked them to the door.
We stood in its frame as Milagros and Manuel corralled their kids, who were cavorting on the front porch, and got them in their SUV.
We continued to stand there, me waving, as they drove toward the cabins in order to turn around.
We did not wait for them to drive back down the lane. Deacon moved me in, shut the door, locked it, and looked down at me.
“You got lemon meringue pie?” he asked.
I grinned. “Yep.”
“You can have the sundae. I’ll have pie.”
He’d have pie.
He’d have pie.
I didn’t know how to express how happy that made me, and I didn’t want to because if I did, he’d probably think I was crazy.
Instead, taking a page out of his book, I shared what I needed to say by leaning so far in to him, I was giving him most of my weight, doing it tipping my head back and smiling at him.
He took my weight and supported it by rounding me with his arms.
He also dipped his face closer to mine, doing this while taking in my smile, before saying, “Plans changed. Fuck then you feed me.”
That caused a tingle.
“I’m down with that,” I whispered.
Deacon grinned.
Then he dipped his head further and kissed me.
After that, he lifted me in his arms and carried me to bed.
*
Much later, draped part on, partly down Deacon’s side, my cheek to his chest, as I heard his breath start to even out telling me he was close to sleep, I whispered into the dark, “Did you like the pie?”
I got no words, but the arm he had curved around me squeezed me tight.
He liked the pie.
I smiled against his chest, tightened my arm draped over his stomach, and kept whispering.
“I’m glad you’re back.”
His body tensed for a moment before it relaxed and he murmured, “Sleep, baby.”
I sighed.
Then I said, “’Kay. ’Night, Deacon.”
“’Night, Cassie.”
I smiled again against his chest.
Then I closed my eyes.
Chapter Nine
Eleven