I glared. “Do you want me to drop these cookies I slaved over while I experience a spontaneous orgasm on the front porch?”
He grinned again. “Maybe.”
I rolled my eyes again.
When I rolled them back, Deacon was leaned in to me.
“Want a ride?”
I didn’t hesitate.
“Absolutely.”
He leaned back. “Go get rid of the tray, woman.”
I went and got rid of the tray.
Deacon went to put Priest in his kennel.
We left Bossy behind as I went back out with my man.
I swung up behind him on the back of his new bike, he revved it, and I felt quivers assault my nether regions.
We took off.
And life was sweet.
* * * * *
I sat on the steps of the gazebo facing the river, its riverbanks edged with a plethora of wildflowers.
So was the area round the gazebo.
The steps were also lined with pots of thriving flowering plants and trailing greenery, more boxes were hooked to all the railings containing the same.
It was gorgeous. I loved it. The plants made it awesome.
But the fact that Deacon built it for me made it magnificent.
I also had a laundry building and I’d been right, those machines cost a whack, we were making a mint.
I’d let Deacon pay for all of it.
His buy-in.
A statement needed to be made.
We were partners.
In everything.
Though, that didn’t mean I didn’t bust his chops. I did.
But he liked it (mostly because I gave in).
I thought that was good but beautiful war was waged over the fact that Deacon didn’t. In the end, he won that too by paying back my dad, with interest. He also paid the mortgage every other month.
I didn’t grouse. There was no need.