by Katie Ashley
As Willow sprinted away, Deacon shook his head. “You bring out the fucking chatterbox in her. I swear, she doesn’t hardly say two words to me.”
“Do you ever try talking to her?”
His brows drew together as he brought his hand up to scratch his neck. “Not really.”
“Even if she doesn’t talk to you, she’s a very good listener.”
“What the hell would I talk about with her?” he demanded, sweeping his hands to his hips. His usual scowl was back, and he looked at me like I had asked him to solve a difficult equation rather than something as simple as telling him to talk to his daughter.
“Tell her about when you were her age.”
“Those aren’t happy little stories to share, Miss Evans. I wouldn’t want to give her nightmares.”
The intensity of his stare, along with the tormented look in his eyes, caused me to look away. “I’m sure if you just sit down and try, the right words will come to you,” I said softly.
“We’ll see,” he grumbled before stalking away. As I watched his retreating form, I couldn’t help but wonder about all the demons he held within him. Willow interrupted my thoughts by skipping up to me with a handful of papers.
“Are you ready to see our classroom?” she asked.
“I’d love to.”
With a squeal, she grabbed my hand and then dragged me across the room. We reached a long hallway that was filled with doors on both the right and left sides. When we got to the fourth on the right, she flung it open. “What do you think?”
I gazed around the room. There were two old desks in the middle—a larger one for me and a smaller one for Willow. I don’t know how he had managed it, but Deacon had set up a whiteboard on an easel. There was even a multicolored rug on the floor for story time. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “It’s wonderful. Your daddy did a great job setting it up.”
As Willow beamed at my praise, I motioned to her desk. “Now, I think it’s time we got to work.”
Two hours later found Willow finishing up on the last lesson of the day. I’d worked her hard, but she had enjoyed every minute of it. You never would have imagined she had missed any school at all. As I rose out of my chair, I smiled down at her. “Okay, then. School’s over for today.”
Her lips curved down in a pout. “But I’m not finished.”
“We’ll finish tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she reluctantly replied, rising out of her seat. She took my hand, and we started into the hallway. When we reached the last door on the right, mortification filled me at the unmistakable sounds of a couple having sex.
I glanced down at Willow in horror, but she merely smiled. “Uncle Bishop must be exercising again.”
“Exercising?”
Willow nodded. “Deacon said whenever there’s a lot of loud noises in the rooms, it’s people exercising. Uncle Bishop exercises a lot.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing at Deacon’s explanation. I had to hand it to him for coming up with a good explanation. I’m sure with the type of men and women Willow was around, there was a lot of “exercising.”
When we started toward the back door, one of the prospects who had been at Willow’s tea party stepped in front of the door, blocking the exit. “I’m just going to walk Willow home,” I explained.
“It’s my job to do that.”
“But I want Miss Alex to,” Willow protested.
“I don’t think there’s a reason why we both can’t walk her home. Do you?”
He shook his blond head. “No, ma’am.”
I extended my hand. “I’m Alexandra.”
Hesitating, he glanced left and right before accepting my hand. “Archer.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” He then stepped aside for us to go out the door. As Willow led me down the gravel pathway, Archer hung back, giving us our space. Willow jabbered about who lived in each of the simple houses. Of course, I had no idea who anyone in the club was. Apparently, Deacon and his brothers each had a house of their own, along with their mother.
“But we always eat together. Grandma says it’s because the boys can’t cook.”
I laughed. “That’s not too surprising.”
Deacon’s mother’s house was at the end of the pathway. It sat in the middle of a small cul-de-sac. Multicolored flower beds brightened the front of the porch. I hurried to keep up with Willow, who dropped my hand and bounded up the stairs. When I got onto the porch, I turned around to see Archer at the bottom of the stairs. “Thanks for seeing us home,” I said.
He smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“Come on, Miss Alex,” Willow cried, grabbing my hand. She barreled through the front door, dragging me behind her. “Grandma, I’m home!” she called.
“I’m in the kitchen, sugar,” a kind voice replied.
When she turned around, Beth jumped at the sight of me. The last time we had met was a month ago at the Meet and Greet. As her hand swept to her chest, she gave me an apologetic smile. “Oh, Miss Evans, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting company.”
“And I’m sorry for startling you. I just wanted to walk Willow home. I wasn’t expecting to come in.”
“Oh, but I’m glad you did.”
We were interrupted by the back door banging open. Deacon appeared first, followed by Rev. I watched in surprise as another young man came in last, closing the door behind him. At the sight of me, a grin curved on his handsome face. “Well, well, I finally get to formally meet the famous Miss Evans.”
Warmth filled my cheeks at his words and the way he was looking at me. The fiery intensity of his stare was burning the clothes right from my body, leaving me naked before him. “I’d hardly say I was famous,” I argued.
“In the rug rat’s eyes you are,” he replied.
“What do you mean ‘formally meet’?” I asked.
“Oh, I saw you at the clubhouse the first day you came. You know, when my asshole of a brother had you by the throat.”
I gasped at the memory while Deacon slapped the guy on the back. “This is my youngest brother, Benjamin.”
“That’s Bishop, actually,” the blond god corrected, throwing out his hand.
The moment our hands met, I suddenly remembered the sounds of sex and Willow’s words about Uncle Bishop exercising. “Did you have a nice workout?” I blurted before I could think better of it.
His brows knitted in confusion. “Huh?”
“Never mind,” I replied. When I met Deacon’s eyes, amusement shone in them. Unlike his clueless brother, he knew exactly what I had heard and what Willow had told me. With my embarrassment growing, I knew I needed to get out of there. “Well, I guess I better head home.”
“Stay for supper,” Beth said.
“Oh, I appreciate the offer, but I can’t.”
“’Cause you got a man you gotta get back home to?” Bishop asked, sidestepping by me to head to the kitchen sink.
As he lathered up his hands, I could feel both Deacon and Rev’s inquisitive gazes burning into me. “No, it’s nothing like that,” I replied, feeling warmth creeping up my neck and flooding my cheeks.
Glancing over his shoulder, he asked, “Kids?”
“No. It’s just me. Well, me and my dog.”
After drying his hands, Bishop leaned back against the counter and shot me an impish grin. “Sounds to me like you ain’t got a reason not to stay.” As I opened my mouth to protest, he reached over to steal a piece of ham. Beth swatted his hand before shooing him away.
Then, with a no-nonsense look, she pointed at me with her carving knife. “Benjamin is right. Besides, it’s late. You’ve worked double time today, and you need a good, home-cooked meal.”
“I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” I protested.
Willow tugged at my hand. “Oh, please stay, Miss Alex!”
I couldn’t help laughing at her enthusiasm. “Aren’t you tired of me yet?”
“Nope. You should spend the night, too
!”
A wicked grin curved on Bishop’s face. “Can she stay in my room?”
My mouth gaped open at his audaciousness while Willow shook her head. “No, Uncle B. She stays with me.”
Bishop winked at me. “I may fight you for her.”
Before I could respond, Deacon smacked the back of Bishop’s head. “Knock it off,” he warned.
“Hey, can I help it if I think Miss Alex is hot?”
As Deacon and Bishop began exchanging words in a low tone, Willow tugged my hand again, bringing my attention back to her rather than the very alluring Malloy brothers. I couldn’t help feeling flattered at the attention of the two handsome men. Of course, Deacon’s angry growls kept me in check.
“So, Miss Alex, are you going to stay?”
When I gazed down at her hopeful expression, I didn’t know how to say no to her. Accepting defeat, I smiled. “Okay, okay, I’ll stay.” Then I gave Bishop a pointed look. “Just for dinner.”
“Yeah!” Willow squealed, doing a little happy dance around me.
Taking me by the shoulders, Beth led me over to one of the chairs. “You sit right here, honey.”
I let her ease me down onto the seat. “Thank you. I really appreciate your hospitality.”
“Hospitality?” Deacon repeated.
When I glanced over my shoulder at him, he shook his head. “You really are white-bread.”
“Don’t be inhospitable to our guest, Deacon. Just because your daughter has a greater vocabulary comprehension level at her age than you do doesn’t mean you can be a jerk,” Rev said.
A giggle escaped my lips at Rev’s teasing of Deacon. My laughter elicited a wink from Rev and a glare from Deacon. Rev took a seat across from me. Motioning Willow to his side, he said, “Come here, rug rat, and tell me what you learned today from Miss Alex.”
She wrinkled her nose as she wrapped an arm around his waist. “I’m not a rug rat,” she countered in a soft voice.
He cocked his brows at her. “Oh, you’re not?” he questioned, his voice laced with amusement. Willow shook her head back and forth. “Then what are you?”
“A ballerina.”
“Not that again.” Deacon groaned as he took a seat at one end of the table. The corners of Willow’s lips turned down in a frown. At her sad face, Deacon sighed. “Look, kid, we’ve been over and over this. I can’t let you out to go to school, so I sure as hell can’t let you go to dance lessons.”
“Language, David,” Beth chastised.
Deacon grunted at his mother before tossing his napkin into his lap. “Whatever. It ain’t happening.”
Rev narrowed his eyes at Deacon’s somewhat apathetic response. He reached over to ruffle Willow’s hair. “Just be patient, sweetheart. We’ll get you those dance lessons someday soon.”
“You’re in luck. I know how you can get your dance lessons right here at home,” I said with a smile.
Deacon’s eyebrows popped up. “How’s that?”
“I can teach her.”
“You?” he asked incredulously.
I drew my shoulders back. “Yeah, me. I started ballet at the age of three. I taught at the local dance studio to put myself through college.”
“That makes sense. You have a dancer’s body,” Rev said.
My gaze jerked from Deacon’s to Rev’s. Bishop slapped Rev on the back. “Oh, man. You’ve been checking her out, too, huh?” he teased with a grin.
“Just an observation,” he replied softly, without meeting anyone’s eyes.
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Deacon cleared his throat. “Okay, then, Miss Twinkle Toes. Guess you’re getting your precious dance lessons.”
Willow squealed with excitement, her body bouncing in her chair beside me. “I want a pink leotard, Miss Alex.”
I grinned. “I think I can make that happen.”
Beth set down a large platter of ham. “Well, now. I think that’s everything.” After she dropped down into the empty chair at the other end of the table, she nodded at Deacon. “Will you return thanks, son?”
My mouth gaped open when Deacon laced his fingers together and bowed his head. It took me a moment in my stupor to bow my head as well. Deacon’s deep voice boomed through the silent dining room. “Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies and our bodies to your service. Amen.”
“Amen,” echoed around the table.
We then started passing around the bowls of food. “This all looks so delicious,” I said, spooning some green beans onto my plate.
“Thank you,” Beth replied with a pleased smile. After she offered me some corn bread, she asked, “Now, where is it you’re from originally?”
“Marietta. I moved here when I was seventeen to live with my aunt and uncle.”
After nodding her head in acknowledgment, Beth chewed thoughtfully on her corn bread, and I could see the questions about my past whirling through her mind. Deciding to put her out of her misery, I said, “My parents were killed in a car accident when I was seventeen. My brother and I came to live with my mother’s brother.”
Beth’s face fell at my admission. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. Such a terrible tragedy for one so young.”
A knot formed in my throat, and I could only nod my head in acknowledgment. Although almost ten years had passed since my parents died, there were still times when I found it almost unbearable to think about, much less talk about. Most of my initial grieving had gotten pushed aside to be strong for Charlie.
“I believe your uncle is a lifer here?” Deacon asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.
“Well, for most of his life, I suppose. He was twenty when he got married and moved here to be with my aunt’s family.”
“He’s a former state trooper.”
My brows rose in surprise at all of Deacon’s knowledge about my family. “Yes. He retired two years ago with forty years with the Georgia State Patrol.”
“Ah, God’s Special Police,” Bishop said with a grin.
I laughed. “A lot of his local PD buddies teased him with that.”
“Does he still have ties to the GSP or the local PD?” Deacon asked.
With a shrug, I replied, “I don’t really know. I think he’s enjoying his retirement a lot. He has a cabin in Blue Ridge, and he and my aunt spend a lot of time there.” Gazing down the table at him, I smiled. “Why all the interest in my uncle’s law-enforcement ties?”
Deacon swiped his mouth with a napkin. “I was hoping he might help me with a speeding ticket.”
“It’s judges—not patrolmen—who fix tickets.”
He winked at me. “Good to know.”
Something told me he didn’t have any tickets that needed fixing. He was more concerned with how Uncle Jimmy might affect his club. Wanting to steer the subject away from Uncle Jimmy, I said, “This is delicious. You’re a wonderful cook, Mrs. Malloy.”
“Call me Beth. And thank you so much.”
“I should probably hire you to teach me to cook. I’m afraid that I’m not very good at it.”
Beth smiled. “I would be happy to teach you. But there would be no charge. It would be a pleasure.” Gazing around the table, she said, “Since I wasn’t blessed with daughters, I’d love to be able to pass on my knowledge.”
“You got a granddaughter,” Deacon protested.
“That’s right. I do. But it’s going to be a few more years before she’s ready to be unleashed in the kitchen.”
Willow paused in gnawing on a piece of ham to eye Beth. “But you said I’m your bestest cooking helper.”
“And you are, sweetheart. But you’re going to stay a helper for now rather than the cook.” At Willow’s crestfallen expression, Beth said, “You need to put all your energy into your schoolwork and being a ballerina.”
Tilting her head to the side, Willow mulled over Beth’s response. Then, as she perked up, Willow turned to me. “Can my leotard have sparkles on it?” she asked.
“I don’t see why not.”
&nbs
p; “And I want a pink tutu. Do I have to wear white tights or can I have pink?” As she rambled off more and more questions, her plate remained untouched.
“Finish your green beans,” Deacon instructed gruffly, showing a rare moment of his paternal side.
“Okaaay,” Willow mumbled.
Deacon’s brows rose while fire flashed in his eyes. “What did you say?”
Willow tucked her head to her chin, refusing to meet his eye. “Okay.”
“You say ‘yes, sir’ when answering me.”
“Don’t be so hard on her,” Rev said.
Deacon pinned Rev with a hard glare. “Don’t tell me how to parent my kid.”
“She’s only five, Deacon,” Rev challenged.
At the rising voices of her father and uncle, Willow began shrinking down in her chair. Desperate to soothe her distress and ease the building tension between the brothers, I blurted, “So which one of you Malloy boys is going to take me for a ride on his motorcycle? ’Cause, you know, I’m a motorcycle virgin.”
Rev’s fork clattered noisily onto his plate as he stared, dumbfounded by my outburst, while Deacon’s finger froze in midpoint at Rev. Bishop started coughing on the large bite of corn bread he’d swallowed. He reached for his iced tea and drained it in a long gulp.
“I do believe my request has rendered you all speechless,” I mused.
“I think it’s hearing the word ‘virgin’ come out of your lips,” Bishop replied with a cheeky grin.
“What’s a virgin?” Willow asked.
I giggled at the look of horror that crossed all three Malloy brothers’ faces at Willow’s question. “Something you’ll find out about when you’re older,” I answered, letting the boys off the hook. My response elicited a sigh of relief from the men and a nod of approval from Beth.
For the remainder of the dinner, Willow concentrated on finishing her plate rather than asking any more questions. When she was done, she glanced cautiously at her father. “Did I do good, Deacon?” Her voice quavered a little as she waited for praise. I wondered why she didn’t call him “Dad.” I guessed it was something she was working up to.
At her question, Deacon’s gruff expression momentarily softened. “Yeah, you did good, kid. Now go take your plate and rinse it off.”