It was now mid-afternoon. We’d both been at it all day, taking a short lunch break to refuel. Now, after he looked at the splendor I’d created at the cabins, I could help him finish up the gutters, though I had no idea how I’d do that, I just knew I would.
When I got to the house, I went in to wash my hands before going back out to find him on whatever side of the house he was working on. But I found him in the kitchen washing his hands.
“Hey,” I called, walking into the kitchen and getting his eyes when I did. “You done?”
“Need new gutters, woman.”
I stopped, my splendor-joy taking a hit at this news. “Like, everywhere?”
He turned off the taps and grabbed a dishtowel. “No. Though the ten percent that’s still good isn’t worth keepin’, mostly ’cause it’s ten percent and would be a bitch to work around.”
“Crap,” I muttered, moving in to him to get to the tap, Deacon moving out of my way when I did.
“Got ’em clean but they’ll leak because the bottoms are corroded,” he stated as I washed my hands. “I’ll go back to the store and get replacements tomorrow.”
So much for us having downtime, this being my plans for tomorrow I had not shared with him. Plans that would include his choice of going somewhere to hike (should badasses hike), going to Gnaw Bone to poke around the shops and have lunch (in the unlikely event badasses shopped, though I knew they had lunch), or staying home and having a sex-a-thon (something I figured badasses would do, which was good since this was my top choice).
“I’ll go with you,” I said, turning off the tap, taking the dishtowel he was offering, and deciding to focus on happy things, not the hit my bank account would take from buying new gutters. I looked up into his handsome face. “Wanna see the floral splendor I’ve created at the cabins?”
His eyes crinkled and he replied, “Sure.”
I grinned at him, threw the dishtowel on the counter, and reached out a hand to grab his.
I didn’t let go even after we were out of the house and on the lane. We made the short journey silently but did it holding hands so it was a journey I enjoyed more than usual.
I stopped him in the middle of the parking area.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“Looks great, Cassie,” he answered, his head turning, taking it all in.
I did the same.
He was right. It did look great. I was getting good at this stuff. A month, two, the window boxes and planters would be a riot of color and greenery.
I squeezed his hand and looked up to him, seeing him tip his chin to look down at me.
“This is the most awesome place in the universe,” I whispered when I caught his eyes.
His hand in mine tugged slightly so I’d move closer to him, something I did. But when he got me there, that was it. He didn’t dip down to kiss me. He didn’t drop my hand to slide his arm around my shoulders.
He just agreed, “Yeah, it is.”
I’d take that, especially since his eyes were telling me he really meant it.
I leaned in to him, resting some of my weight against his arm.
“You done?” he asked my earlier question.
“Yep,” I answered, because I was, for then. I usually did the flowers for the house after I got the cabins done.
“Good,” he muttered and moved. Pulling at my hand to move me with him, he headed us toward the lane.
Apparently, Deacon was done drinking in floral splendor at Glacier Lily.
Well, at least he walked down with me and shared his approval. That was something Grant wouldn’t do in a million years.
These were my thoughts as I felt my hand tugged again, taking me off my path toward the house and on the path that led up to cabin eleven.
My eyes lifted to Deacon, who was walking a pace in front of me so I only saw his profile, but his gaze was fixed to the cabin that had been “home” to him for six years.
I had a funny feeling about this.
Funny as in good.
“Deacon—” I started.
He cut me off, “Quiet, Cassie.”
I fell silent.
Deacon walked us up the steps, across the porch, and to the door. There, he let my hand go to dig in his pocket and pull out the key to cabin eleven, something he’d clearly purloined since I left him to the gutters. He opened the door, grabbed my hand again, pulled me in, and closed the door behind us, locking it.
He shoved the key in his pocket as he hauled me through the living room area into the short hall then into the front bedroom.
My heart was beating hard as he kept moving, straight to the bed. A bed I knew, since I’d cleaned that cabin after he left, was the bed he used when he’d stayed.
He sat on the side of the bed, using his hand in mine to move me so I was standing between his spread legs.
That was when my breath started catching.
It didn’t get any better when he let my hand go and watched his hands span my hips over my jeans.
I stood motionless, arms at my sides, heart beating fast, breath coming erratic, eyes on him as he seemed lost in this for long moments, his hands and eyes at my hips.
Finally, he lifted his gaze to mine.
“Six years,” he whispered.
Oh God.
My insides melted.
“Deacon—” I began but he interrupted me again.