I shivered with glee at the compliment but still rolled my eyes to the ceiling and told it, “Now he’s messing up my hair and being sweet.”
“Don’t need it, but you look good in it,” he stated.
Totally worth the time to get dolled up.
I looked back at him and bossed, “Stop. I already almost had a spontaneous orgasm and I’m gonna freak Milagros and Manuel out because they’ve never seen me in makeup, or with a guy for that matter, except you the other day, of course. Which, in case you missed it, freaked them out. Now I’m getting all warm and squishy. They’re Mexican. They’re Catholic. They don’t cuss and I’ve never seen Milagros show even a hint of cleavage, much less a bra strap. We need to practice decorum.”
“We can do that in the truck on the way there.”
“Okay, then you need to get a move on with practicing non-decorum so we can get on our way there.”
His lips quirked. “Spontaneous orgasm?”
“Like you don’t know.”
“Binding you to the bed tonight, woman.”
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling again even though that caused a full-on tremble. “God, help. He’s not listening to me.”
“Cassie?”
I looked again to him. “What?”
“Best lay, bar none. Funniest bitch, bar none. Finest woman, bar none. And all of that better every day.”
His words made me drop my head and do a face plant in his shirt because I couldn’t hold it up anymore. I added my weight because I couldn’t stand on my own anymore either.
Deacon slid his hand down to curl it around the back of my neck.
“Can’t kiss you with your face in my chest,” he noted.
“You shouldn’t call women bitches,” I whispered.
His body shook with his chuckles, shaking me with it.
It felt beautiful.
I kept whispering when I remarked, “I’m making you happy.”
I felt his word stir the top of my hair when he replied, “Yeah.”
I closed my eyes.
Now that felt good.
“We need to get on our way, baby,” he said into my hair. “Give me a kiss.”
I took in a deep breath before I tipped my head back and rolled up on my toes.
Then I gave him a kiss. It was wet and sweet and I knew I was going to remember it my whole life.
When Deacon broke it off, I put in some earrings, clasped on a necklace, slid on a couple of rings, and donned my flip-flops.
After that, Deacon took my hand and off we went to have dinner with my friends.
* * * * *
“Do you play football?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“Do you?”
“Not yet. Papá says I can do Junior Football League next year.”
“What position you want?”
“Quarterback.”
“Nice.”
I sat next to Deacon on Milagros and Manuel’s couch, watching this exchange between him and Esteban, thinking he actually was the Supreme Leader of the Badasses. This was mostly because, when we arrived fifteen minutes ago, Esteban started his inquisition and hadn’t let up and Deacon had answered every question, but half of them he answered without answering.
“Cállate, Estito, with you asking so many questions, Se?or Priest hasn’t even been able to take a sip from his beer,” Silvia remonstrated.
She wasn’t wrong.
“Be nice, mija,” Manuel gently rebuked.
Her cheeks got pink, her eyes skittered to Deacon, they got pinker, and she looked to her lap.
Silvia had a crush on my man.
Not surprising.
“John,” Deacon’s deep voice filled the room and Silvia looked back to him. “Your parents are okay with it, girl, you can call me John.”
Silvia’s eyes went to her dad. So did mine. Manuel smiled and dipped his chin down.
Silvia looked back to Deacon and said timidly, “Okay, John.”
Deacon smiled at her.
Her eyes got huge and then dropped back to her lap.
I swallowed a giggle.
“Cassidy,” Milagros said like she was about to make an announcement. Pushing up from the couch across from us that she and Manuel were sitting on, she ended on an order. “Help me in the kitchen.”
She needed no help in the kitchen. She needed to give her friend/employer a talking to about this boyfriend-out-of-the-blue business, seeing as all the time she’d spent at the cabins since Deacon returned was time I was with Deacon so she didn’t have time to do it before.
I gave big eyes to Deacon, his lit with humor, and I let his hand go (a hand I took; he was back to no PDA, though he did sit close to me on the couch, but this could have been because Esteban wedged himself beside Deacon). I squeezed his thigh then got up and followed Milagros, who was already heading to their tiny kitchen.
Milagros cleaned my cabins and she had two other houses in town she also cleaned. She’d had a business that was going pretty well, it allowed her to work and bring in needed money while the kids were at school, be at home when they got out. Then the recession hit and she lost five clients. That was when she went looking for work and I took her on.
Even though I gave her work and it was work she was good at that she liked because she could do it on her schedule, they were far from rolling in it as their lovely, but small (and especially small for seven people) house attested. Manuel worked as maintenance for some office buildings in Chantelle about thirty miles away. The pay was decent but the commute was a bitch, on time and gas.
But pay had to be freaking awesome to take care of a house and five kids.
Decent meant every penny had to stretch.
They didn’t complain. They just worked, did their best with what they had, loved their kids and each other, and were good friends to me.
In other words, they were the bomb and I was fortunate Milagros drove down my lane looking for work, and not because her doing it gave me free time.
What I didn’t know was at that moment, in her kitchen, she was going to prove that thought absolutely correct.
She stopped well away from the door and I came to a stop a couple feet in front of her.
I opened my mouth to speak but she got there before me.
“He stays with you.” This was an accusation.
“Uh…yeah.”
“Querida, you’re not married.”
I pulled up all my thirty years in the face of a woman who was only a few years older than me but reminded me of my mother on more than one occasion, except scarier.
“No, we’re not,” I replied firmly.
“Don’t need it, but you look good in it,” he stated.
Totally worth the time to get dolled up.
I looked back at him and bossed, “Stop. I already almost had a spontaneous orgasm and I’m gonna freak Milagros and Manuel out because they’ve never seen me in makeup, or with a guy for that matter, except you the other day, of course. Which, in case you missed it, freaked them out. Now I’m getting all warm and squishy. They’re Mexican. They’re Catholic. They don’t cuss and I’ve never seen Milagros show even a hint of cleavage, much less a bra strap. We need to practice decorum.”
“We can do that in the truck on the way there.”
“Okay, then you need to get a move on with practicing non-decorum so we can get on our way there.”
His lips quirked. “Spontaneous orgasm?”
“Like you don’t know.”
“Binding you to the bed tonight, woman.”
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling again even though that caused a full-on tremble. “God, help. He’s not listening to me.”
“Cassie?”
I looked again to him. “What?”
“Best lay, bar none. Funniest bitch, bar none. Finest woman, bar none. And all of that better every day.”
His words made me drop my head and do a face plant in his shirt because I couldn’t hold it up anymore. I added my weight because I couldn’t stand on my own anymore either.
Deacon slid his hand down to curl it around the back of my neck.
“Can’t kiss you with your face in my chest,” he noted.
“You shouldn’t call women bitches,” I whispered.
His body shook with his chuckles, shaking me with it.
It felt beautiful.
I kept whispering when I remarked, “I’m making you happy.”
I felt his word stir the top of my hair when he replied, “Yeah.”
I closed my eyes.
Now that felt good.
“We need to get on our way, baby,” he said into my hair. “Give me a kiss.”
I took in a deep breath before I tipped my head back and rolled up on my toes.
Then I gave him a kiss. It was wet and sweet and I knew I was going to remember it my whole life.
When Deacon broke it off, I put in some earrings, clasped on a necklace, slid on a couple of rings, and donned my flip-flops.
After that, Deacon took my hand and off we went to have dinner with my friends.
* * * * *
“Do you play football?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“Do you?”
“Not yet. Papá says I can do Junior Football League next year.”
“What position you want?”
“Quarterback.”
“Nice.”
I sat next to Deacon on Milagros and Manuel’s couch, watching this exchange between him and Esteban, thinking he actually was the Supreme Leader of the Badasses. This was mostly because, when we arrived fifteen minutes ago, Esteban started his inquisition and hadn’t let up and Deacon had answered every question, but half of them he answered without answering.
“Cállate, Estito, with you asking so many questions, Se?or Priest hasn’t even been able to take a sip from his beer,” Silvia remonstrated.
She wasn’t wrong.
“Be nice, mija,” Manuel gently rebuked.
Her cheeks got pink, her eyes skittered to Deacon, they got pinker, and she looked to her lap.
Silvia had a crush on my man.
Not surprising.
“John,” Deacon’s deep voice filled the room and Silvia looked back to him. “Your parents are okay with it, girl, you can call me John.”
Silvia’s eyes went to her dad. So did mine. Manuel smiled and dipped his chin down.
Silvia looked back to Deacon and said timidly, “Okay, John.”
Deacon smiled at her.
Her eyes got huge and then dropped back to her lap.
I swallowed a giggle.
“Cassidy,” Milagros said like she was about to make an announcement. Pushing up from the couch across from us that she and Manuel were sitting on, she ended on an order. “Help me in the kitchen.”
She needed no help in the kitchen. She needed to give her friend/employer a talking to about this boyfriend-out-of-the-blue business, seeing as all the time she’d spent at the cabins since Deacon returned was time I was with Deacon so she didn’t have time to do it before.
I gave big eyes to Deacon, his lit with humor, and I let his hand go (a hand I took; he was back to no PDA, though he did sit close to me on the couch, but this could have been because Esteban wedged himself beside Deacon). I squeezed his thigh then got up and followed Milagros, who was already heading to their tiny kitchen.
Milagros cleaned my cabins and she had two other houses in town she also cleaned. She’d had a business that was going pretty well, it allowed her to work and bring in needed money while the kids were at school, be at home when they got out. Then the recession hit and she lost five clients. That was when she went looking for work and I took her on.
Even though I gave her work and it was work she was good at that she liked because she could do it on her schedule, they were far from rolling in it as their lovely, but small (and especially small for seven people) house attested. Manuel worked as maintenance for some office buildings in Chantelle about thirty miles away. The pay was decent but the commute was a bitch, on time and gas.
But pay had to be freaking awesome to take care of a house and five kids.
Decent meant every penny had to stretch.
They didn’t complain. They just worked, did their best with what they had, loved their kids and each other, and were good friends to me.
In other words, they were the bomb and I was fortunate Milagros drove down my lane looking for work, and not because her doing it gave me free time.
What I didn’t know was at that moment, in her kitchen, she was going to prove that thought absolutely correct.
She stopped well away from the door and I came to a stop a couple feet in front of her.
I opened my mouth to speak but she got there before me.
“He stays with you.” This was an accusation.
“Uh…yeah.”
“Querida, you’re not married.”
I pulled up all my thirty years in the face of a woman who was only a few years older than me but reminded me of my mother on more than one occasion, except scarier.
“No, we’re not,” I replied firmly.
