My head tipped back and his came down, so close, the side of his nose brushed mine, his eyes were all I could see, and I could feel his breath against my lips.
“No,” he whispered.
That was it.
No.
No, he was not going to shove me over the edge in a home improvement store after I’d spent three weeks hurting because I thought we were over. No, he was not going to do that because Deacon just wouldn’t do that, but also because he regretted that I spent that time hurting. And no, he was not going to do that because he didn’t want us to be over either and he’d thought we were and he’d spent that time hurting.
He said that all through his no.
But mostly he said it through pulling me to him the way he did to whisper that one word to me.
Therefore, I leaned in to him to share how this made me feel and I did it without even giving him a word.
I figured he got me because I was learning Deacon was good at that.
He kept whispering. “This goes bad, Cassie, we’ll talk it out. I will not leave you wondering and I will never leave you hanging.”
“Okay,” I whispered back.
“You gonna return that favor?”
“I hope this doesn’t go bad,” I replied and saw his eyes fire, showing me he hoped that too, something I liked even better than standing close to him in the aisle of a home improvement store, which said a lot. “But if it does, I’ll definitely return that favor, honey.”
He held me close, looking into my eyes for several moments, before he murmured, “Good,” brushed his mouth against mine and let me go.
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.