And together, we fell asleep.
* * * * *
The next afternoon, I shut down my computer after dealing with bills, e-mails, bookings, and trolling websites to see if there were more travel sites where I should register Glacier Lily.
I got up, went to the kitchen, and looked out the windows to see Deacon on the porch, feet up on the railing.
I went to the door, opened it, and Bossy, who was allowed on the porch since the slats in the railings weren’t big enough for her to push through, came bounding to me.
I bent and scratched my dog, calling, “You need a drink, honey?”
“Got one,” Deacon replied.
I looked to Bossy and shoved her back a bit, saying, “I’ll be out in a sec.”
I closed the door, got my cold drink, then went out to join Deacon on the porch.
I stopped dead behind his chair, seeing he had a spiral notebook he’d purloined from my desk pressed to his thigh, a pencil in his hand, and he was sketching a gazebo.
He felt my presence. I knew when he asked, “You want one like this?” He flipped the page to another sketch of gazebo. “Or like this?”
“I…uh…” For once in my life, I was at a loss for words. This was because the proof was right in front of me that Deacon could sketch and he was good at it. This was also because both gazebos were beautiful. Far more spectacular than anything I’d dreamed up in my head. One was round with gorgeous carved slats in the railings and woodwork around the edge of the roof. The other was octagon, with different but still gorgeous carved slats and roof edges.
Both would be beautiful at Glacier Lily.
Amazing.
I went to my chair, rested my booty on the arm, and looked at him.
He was looking to the notepad.
“Can you build those?” I asked.
His eyes came to me. “Yeah.”
“Really?”
“Not that tough, woman.”
He was wrong. I knew nothing of carpentry, but I knew he was wrong.
I changed the subject.
“You can sketch?”
“Anyone can sketch.”
“I can’t sketch.”
“It’s not Michelangelo.”
“It’s still awesome.”
His expression changed and I felt it. I felt the glory of it right to the heart of me.
But he said nothing.
“We get to that time, I want you to build the one you wanna build,” I said.
“Your cabins, Cassidy.”
I leaned in to him, holding his eyes, repeating soft but firm, “When we get to that time, baby, I want you to build the one you wanna build.”
He got me. I knew it. I knew it when the pad was tossed to the deck, my drink taken out of my hand and set on the deck, and my hand was seized so Deacon could tug me up, around, and over him until I was in the seat, straddling him, ass to his lap.
His hand was in my hair pulling me down, other hand at my ass.
That time, he communicated through his kiss, its depth, its gorgeousness, and its length.
In fact, we made out for ages, me in Deacon’s lap in his Adirondack chair on my porch by a river in the Colorado Mountains.
And again, I was reminded that I was finally a woman who had everything she’d ever dreamed.
And I was gleefully happy.
* * * * *
Two days later, I stood next to the fancy new grill (that I bought Deacon, payback, ha!) at the end of my porch, eyes trained to the river.
Deacon was there, Araceli, Esteban, and Gerardo all standing close, eyes rapt with attention, watching Deacon teach them to bait a hook on a fishing pole. Araceli had Bossy’s long lead in her hand and Bossy was nose to the grass, discovering.
Silvia and Margarita were with their dad ten feet away, all of them had poles in the water, but Silvia’s eyes weren’t to her line. They were on Deacon.
“Euw!” Gerardo shrieked and I grinned.
Milagros came up beside me. “My son is not a fan of worms, so I did believe he’d appreciate seeing one tortured. I guess I was wrong.”
I looked to her and grinned.
She looked to me and did not grin. “There was something else I was wrong about.” Her gaze slid sideways and I knew she was looking to Deacon.
I also knew what she was saying.
I looked back to Deacon and watched as he gently moved the group away so he could show them how to cast a line.
My man, he had many talents, all of the new ones awaiting me I couldn’t wait to discover.
“I felt that, with Manuel, what’s in your eyes,” she said softly.
I again knew what she was saying.
“I’m glad,” I replied softly, and I was. I loved it that my friend had the splendor I was feeling.
“Feel it every time he looks at one of our children like he can’t believe they’re real.”
I loved that she had that, too. She deserved that. So did Manuel. So did the kids.
I felt tears sting my nose.
“Sometimes, he looks at me that way,” she carried on. “To this day.”
I turned to her, reaching out to clasp her hand.
She looked to me.
“I’m glad, honey,” I whispered.
“He gives you that,” she stated.
He did.
And him doing it gave me glee.
“Yes,” I replied.
Her lips tipped up. “I’m glad, Cassidy.”
I let her go but only to wrap my arms around her to give her a hug.
She gave it back to me.
When we were done, we didn’t let each other go. Not completely. We kept an arm around each other and turned to the scene by the river, Deacon handing the pole to Gerardo while Esteban and Araceli gathered close. He was bent to the boy and I knew giving instruction.
He was going to be a great daddy.
Yes.
Deacon gave me glee.
And he did it in a way I never thought he’d take it from me. I just believed he’d always give it, freely.
I guess I was stupid that way.
Chapter Sixteen
Say Something
I was upstairs in the bedroom.
Deacon was downstairs in the foyer with Bossy. They were training. She’d mastered the commands of “sit” and “down,” but she wasn’t real hip on “stay.”
Deacon was determined to make her that way.
It was hilarious. It was also cute.
Badass versus Boss Lady Puppy.
I couldn’t predict a winner so I didn’t try.
After his last awesome stay, Deacon had taken a job and come back. It was three days before my family was going to descend and there was a lot to do.
The house needed to be cleaned and we needed to go to the grocery store. This was because we were having a big spread the night they arrived. At Deacon’s request, my loaded potato casserole (and because Dad liked it too) would be served and Deacon was going to grill steaks (another talent I discovered, my badass could man a grill).
* * * * *
The next afternoon, I shut down my computer after dealing with bills, e-mails, bookings, and trolling websites to see if there were more travel sites where I should register Glacier Lily.
I got up, went to the kitchen, and looked out the windows to see Deacon on the porch, feet up on the railing.
I went to the door, opened it, and Bossy, who was allowed on the porch since the slats in the railings weren’t big enough for her to push through, came bounding to me.
I bent and scratched my dog, calling, “You need a drink, honey?”
“Got one,” Deacon replied.
I looked to Bossy and shoved her back a bit, saying, “I’ll be out in a sec.”
I closed the door, got my cold drink, then went out to join Deacon on the porch.
I stopped dead behind his chair, seeing he had a spiral notebook he’d purloined from my desk pressed to his thigh, a pencil in his hand, and he was sketching a gazebo.
He felt my presence. I knew when he asked, “You want one like this?” He flipped the page to another sketch of gazebo. “Or like this?”
“I…uh…” For once in my life, I was at a loss for words. This was because the proof was right in front of me that Deacon could sketch and he was good at it. This was also because both gazebos were beautiful. Far more spectacular than anything I’d dreamed up in my head. One was round with gorgeous carved slats in the railings and woodwork around the edge of the roof. The other was octagon, with different but still gorgeous carved slats and roof edges.
Both would be beautiful at Glacier Lily.
Amazing.
I went to my chair, rested my booty on the arm, and looked at him.
He was looking to the notepad.
“Can you build those?” I asked.
His eyes came to me. “Yeah.”
“Really?”
“Not that tough, woman.”
He was wrong. I knew nothing of carpentry, but I knew he was wrong.
I changed the subject.
“You can sketch?”
“Anyone can sketch.”
“I can’t sketch.”
“It’s not Michelangelo.”
“It’s still awesome.”
His expression changed and I felt it. I felt the glory of it right to the heart of me.
But he said nothing.
“We get to that time, I want you to build the one you wanna build,” I said.
“Your cabins, Cassidy.”
I leaned in to him, holding his eyes, repeating soft but firm, “When we get to that time, baby, I want you to build the one you wanna build.”
He got me. I knew it. I knew it when the pad was tossed to the deck, my drink taken out of my hand and set on the deck, and my hand was seized so Deacon could tug me up, around, and over him until I was in the seat, straddling him, ass to his lap.
His hand was in my hair pulling me down, other hand at my ass.
That time, he communicated through his kiss, its depth, its gorgeousness, and its length.
In fact, we made out for ages, me in Deacon’s lap in his Adirondack chair on my porch by a river in the Colorado Mountains.
And again, I was reminded that I was finally a woman who had everything she’d ever dreamed.
And I was gleefully happy.
* * * * *
Two days later, I stood next to the fancy new grill (that I bought Deacon, payback, ha!) at the end of my porch, eyes trained to the river.
Deacon was there, Araceli, Esteban, and Gerardo all standing close, eyes rapt with attention, watching Deacon teach them to bait a hook on a fishing pole. Araceli had Bossy’s long lead in her hand and Bossy was nose to the grass, discovering.
Silvia and Margarita were with their dad ten feet away, all of them had poles in the water, but Silvia’s eyes weren’t to her line. They were on Deacon.
“Euw!” Gerardo shrieked and I grinned.
Milagros came up beside me. “My son is not a fan of worms, so I did believe he’d appreciate seeing one tortured. I guess I was wrong.”
I looked to her and grinned.
She looked to me and did not grin. “There was something else I was wrong about.” Her gaze slid sideways and I knew she was looking to Deacon.
I also knew what she was saying.
I looked back to Deacon and watched as he gently moved the group away so he could show them how to cast a line.
My man, he had many talents, all of the new ones awaiting me I couldn’t wait to discover.
“I felt that, with Manuel, what’s in your eyes,” she said softly.
I again knew what she was saying.
“I’m glad,” I replied softly, and I was. I loved it that my friend had the splendor I was feeling.
“Feel it every time he looks at one of our children like he can’t believe they’re real.”
I loved that she had that, too. She deserved that. So did Manuel. So did the kids.
I felt tears sting my nose.
“Sometimes, he looks at me that way,” she carried on. “To this day.”
I turned to her, reaching out to clasp her hand.
She looked to me.
“I’m glad, honey,” I whispered.
“He gives you that,” she stated.
He did.
And him doing it gave me glee.
“Yes,” I replied.
Her lips tipped up. “I’m glad, Cassidy.”
I let her go but only to wrap my arms around her to give her a hug.
She gave it back to me.
When we were done, we didn’t let each other go. Not completely. We kept an arm around each other and turned to the scene by the river, Deacon handing the pole to Gerardo while Esteban and Araceli gathered close. He was bent to the boy and I knew giving instruction.
He was going to be a great daddy.
Yes.
Deacon gave me glee.
And he did it in a way I never thought he’d take it from me. I just believed he’d always give it, freely.
I guess I was stupid that way.
Chapter Sixteen
Say Something
I was upstairs in the bedroom.
Deacon was downstairs in the foyer with Bossy. They were training. She’d mastered the commands of “sit” and “down,” but she wasn’t real hip on “stay.”
Deacon was determined to make her that way.
It was hilarious. It was also cute.
Badass versus Boss Lady Puppy.
I couldn’t predict a winner so I didn’t try.
After his last awesome stay, Deacon had taken a job and come back. It was three days before my family was going to descend and there was a lot to do.
The house needed to be cleaned and we needed to go to the grocery store. This was because we were having a big spread the night they arrived. At Deacon’s request, my loaded potato casserole (and because Dad liked it too) would be served and Deacon was going to grill steaks (another talent I discovered, my badass could man a grill).
