I nodded, turned, and dashed up the stairs.
I was naked by the time Deacon joined me.
Boss Lady didn’t have a great night, cooped up in her kennel with Daddy just home.
But Deacon was back.
So mine was awesome.
* * * * *
“I’m unavailable,” Deacon said into his phone the next morning while standing at the stove, shuffling bacon in a skillet, Bossy attacking the hem of his jeans. “At least three weeks.”
At least three weeks.
Yippee.
I was pouring cereal and listening, mostly because Deacon wasn’t hiding this call, like he didn’t hide the call that took him away from me a week and a half ago.
I liked this. This was open, not covert, hiding, keeping things from me. No, this was Deacon giving himself to me.
Yes, I liked this.
I put the cereal box back and went for the milk.
“You need someone, call Raid and his team,” he continued.
Raid?
I poured milk.
“Told you before, they’re solid. You need this done, you call them. Got nothin’ more for you. I got somethin’ on that’s priority.”
Priority.
That made me feel warm and squishy.
“You got his number,” Deacon finished, disconnecting, and tossing his phone on the counter. “Gotta bury that in a drawer,” he muttered like he was talking to himself.
“I have you for three weeks?” I asked, putting the milk back.
“At least,” he answered.
I turned from the fridge and smiled big at him.
The grooves hit the sides of his mouth and he looked down at the skillet.
Bossy started growling. I looked to her and saw she’d found purchase on Deacon’s jeans and was tugging back with puppy viciousness.
Deacon ignored her.
More warm and squishy.
I grabbed a spoon, picked up my bowl, put a hip to the counter, and started eating.
After bite three, when Deacon was transferring bacon to a plate covered in paper towels, I asked, “Who’s Raid?”
I got warmer and squishier when Deacon’s response was immediate.