I leaned in to him, resting some of my weight against his arm.
“You done?” he asked my earlier question.
“Yep,” I answered, because I was, for then. I usually did the flowers for the house after I got the cabins done.
“Good,” he muttered and moved. Pulling at my hand to move me with him, he headed us toward the lane.
Apparently, Deacon was done drinking in floral splendor at Glacier Lily.
Well, at least he walked down with me and shared his approval. That was something Grant wouldn’t do in a million years.
These were my thoughts as I felt my hand tugged again, taking me off my path toward the house and on the path that led up to cabin eleven.
My eyes lifted to Deacon, who was walking a pace in front of me so I only saw his profile, but his gaze was fixed to the cabin that had been “home” to him for six years.
I had a funny feeling about this.
Funny as in good.
“Deacon—” I started.
He cut me off, “Quiet, Cassie.”
I fell silent.
Deacon walked us up the steps, across the porch, and to the door. There, he let my hand go to dig in his pocket and pull out the key to cabin eleven, something he’d clearly purloined since I left him to the gutters. He opened the door, grabbed my hand again, pulled me in, and closed the door behind us, locking it.
He shoved the key in his pocket as he hauled me through the living room area into the short hall then into the front bedroom.
My heart was beating hard as he kept moving, straight to the bed. A bed I knew, since I’d cleaned that cabin after he left, was the bed he used when he’d stayed.
He sat on the side of the bed, using his hand in mine to move me so I was standing between his spread legs.
That was when my breath started catching.
It didn’t get any better when he let my hand go and watched his hands span my hips over my jeans.
I stood motionless, arms at my sides, heart beating fast, breath coming erratic, eyes on him as he seemed lost in this for long moments, his hands and eyes at my hips.
Finally, he lifted his gaze to mine.
“Six years,” he whispered.
Oh God.
My insides melted.
“Deacon—” I began but he interrupted me again.
“Wanted you right here.”
I loved that because I’d wanted the same. Though, I’d wanted him at my house, but same thing.
I put my hand to his jaw and leaned down to him. “Well, here I am.”
He stared into my eyes, his speaking, words and feelings pouring out of those tawny depths, washing over my skin, and I wondered how I could ever think this man was done with me.
He wasn’t done with me.