I teetered slightly when he did, and by the time I had myself steady, his attention was back to the ladders.
I watched Deacon studying the ladders. I looked to the ladders to see there were a goodly number of them, but only two tall enough to reach my gutters.
I looked back to him and asked, “How long is picking a ladder gonna take?”
He looked to me. “It’s gonna take as long as it takes.”
My brows went up. “I only have to grab some potting soil and plant food. In other words, I’m almost done. Can you give me a more accurate estimate?”
“You laid it out, woman, so I will too,” he stated. “You’re a woman who worries about her man eatin’ and sleepin’ and wants him to give her a heads up when he’s got somethin’ on his mind that he has to do and doin’ it means leavin’ her. You’ve also just become a woman who gives her man the time it takes to pick a ladder, whatever that time might be.”
I felt my own lips twitching and tried to hide it by lifting a hand and giving him a salute before saying smartly, “Aye, aye, captain.”
This got me the grooves around his mouth and the crinkles around his eyes before he said, “And you do it without bein’ a smartass or the next time your man has your ass bare, he’ll smack it.”
That made me bite my lip, not doing it because that idea didn’t appeal to me, doing it because it did. A lot. A whole lot.
Deacon’s eyes dropped to my mouth and I knew he knew what I was feeling when his gaze heated before it lifted to mine, the heat cleared, and he grinned.
“Go get your potting soil, baby,” he ordered gently.
“Okay, honey,” I replied quietly.
I waited a second for him to move in to me, touch me, dip his head down and brush his mouth against mine again, but he didn’t.
His attention went back to the ladders.
So I moved, doing it deciding, even if he wasn’t into public displays of affection, I was. Thus, when I moved, I moved in to him, put a hand to his biceps, got up on my toes, and touched my lips to the hinge of his jaw.
As I was rolling back to my feet, his neck twisted, his eyes came down to mine, and I saw he didn’t much mind public displays of affection.
I noted that for the future.
Then I smiled at him before I went to get my potting soil and found, luckily, not a pansy had been claimed in my absence.
* * * * *
I stood in the middle of the vast, graveled parking area around the cabins and looked around.
It was brand-new, but the floral beauty I’d given Glacier Lily looked kick-ass.
I grinned to myself as I decided this beauty needed to be shared. Thus I turned and moved quickly up the lane to the house where Deacon was working on the gutters.
Suffice it to say, Deacon wasn’t lazy. This being demonstrated not only by the fact that he was at that moment cleaning the gutters, but also when he shouldered me out of the way in order to load the makings of floral beauty into his Suburban before he tied the ladder to the top. Not to mention, he again shouldered me out of the way in order to unload the floral beauty down at the cabins when we got home.
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.
I watched Deacon studying the ladders. I looked to the ladders to see there were a goodly number of them, but only two tall enough to reach my gutters.
I looked back to him and asked, “How long is picking a ladder gonna take?”
He looked to me. “It’s gonna take as long as it takes.”
My brows went up. “I only have to grab some potting soil and plant food. In other words, I’m almost done. Can you give me a more accurate estimate?”
“You laid it out, woman, so I will too,” he stated. “You’re a woman who worries about her man eatin’ and sleepin’ and wants him to give her a heads up when he’s got somethin’ on his mind that he has to do and doin’ it means leavin’ her. You’ve also just become a woman who gives her man the time it takes to pick a ladder, whatever that time might be.”
I felt my own lips twitching and tried to hide it by lifting a hand and giving him a salute before saying smartly, “Aye, aye, captain.”
This got me the grooves around his mouth and the crinkles around his eyes before he said, “And you do it without bein’ a smartass or the next time your man has your ass bare, he’ll smack it.”
That made me bite my lip, not doing it because that idea didn’t appeal to me, doing it because it did. A lot. A whole lot.
Deacon’s eyes dropped to my mouth and I knew he knew what I was feeling when his gaze heated before it lifted to mine, the heat cleared, and he grinned.
“Go get your potting soil, baby,” he ordered gently.
“Okay, honey,” I replied quietly.
I waited a second for him to move in to me, touch me, dip his head down and brush his mouth against mine again, but he didn’t.
His attention went back to the ladders.
So I moved, doing it deciding, even if he wasn’t into public displays of affection, I was. Thus, when I moved, I moved in to him, put a hand to his biceps, got up on my toes, and touched my lips to the hinge of his jaw.
As I was rolling back to my feet, his neck twisted, his eyes came down to mine, and I saw he didn’t much mind public displays of affection.
I noted that for the future.
Then I smiled at him before I went to get my potting soil and found, luckily, not a pansy had been claimed in my absence.
* * * * *
I stood in the middle of the vast, graveled parking area around the cabins and looked around.
It was brand-new, but the floral beauty I’d given Glacier Lily looked kick-ass.
I grinned to myself as I decided this beauty needed to be shared. Thus I turned and moved quickly up the lane to the house where Deacon was working on the gutters.
Suffice it to say, Deacon wasn’t lazy. This being demonstrated not only by the fact that he was at that moment cleaning the gutters, but also when he shouldered me out of the way in order to load the makings of floral beauty into his Suburban before he tied the ladder to the top. Not to mention, he again shouldered me out of the way in order to unload the floral beauty down at the cabins when we got home.
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.
