by Lili Valente
I duck my head, hiding a smile.
“Now, let’s go see this dog,” she continues, starting out of the kitchen. “It didn’t bite either of you, did it?”
“No, Mom. It’s a sweet little thing.” The eye-roll in her daughter’s voice is all-too-familiar. The boys don’t hit me with that tone much anymore, but their junior and senior years of high school were a different story.
“Well, even sweet little things can bite when they’re hurt or scared, and he could have rabies for all we know.” Violet grabs a throw blanket off the top of a pile near the cozy-looking couch where I’d hoped to be devouring her pussy for dessert. Sadly, it seems fate has other plans for us tonight.
I’m about to offer my goodbyes and head for the door when it flies open and a second girl—a curly-haired kid with tears streaming down her honey-brown cheeks—appears, silhouetted against the darkening sky. “My car died! I can’t get it to start again, Addie. It’s dead, and the dog is almost dead, and this is the worst day of my entire life!”
She dissolves into shuddery sobs, Adriana’s eyes fill with tears, and a pained, helpless expression flashes across Violet’s face. Instantly, I know I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving her alone with two hysterical kids and a dying dog, not even if she begs me to.
“We’ll take my truck,” I say, grabbing my keys from the table by the door. “We’ll get the little guy settled and be there in ten minutes.”
“You don’t have to, Deacon,” Violet begins, “I can take them in my car, I—”
“More room in the truck,” I cut her off, holding up the keys. “You want to drive, since you know the way? And I’ll hold the patient?”
Relief flickers in her eyes. “Okay. Yes.” She reaches for her keys and motions the girls toward the street. “You two get in the truck. Deacon and I will be there in just a minute. The dog is in the back seat of your car, Georgia?”
Georgia nods, swiping a hand across her tear-streaked face. “Yes, but he’s not moving, Miss V. I’m scared it’s already too late. I’m afraid I killed him. He just ran out into the street so fast, I didn’t have time to stop.”
Violet puts a hand on her back, rubbing in circles as she guides the girl down the stairs. “It’s going to be okay, honey. Accidents happen. It’s not your fault.”
“The most important thing is that you two are okay,” I say, starting toward the VW Bug parked behind Violet’s Prius in the driveway. I’m planning what to do if the dog is already dead—wrap him in a towel, let the girls say goodbye, and take him back to the farm for a proper burial—when I open the door to find two melted chocolate eyes peering up at me from the tan seat.
“There you are, buddy,” I say softly. “You’re going to be all right.”
The pup—a corgi with some mutt mixed in—gives a weak wag of its tail and Violet coos softly behind me, “Oh, what a sweetheart. We’re going to get you fixed up, pumpkin. Don’t worry.” She presses the blanket into my hands as she adds in a whisper, “I think one or both of his back legs might be broken.”
“I’ll be gentle,” I promise.
“I know you will,” she says, resting a hand on the small of my back. “Thank you.”
Before I can assure her that there’s no need for thanks, she’s gone, hurrying back to my truck where the girls are already climbing into the back cab. I watch her for a beat—my heart aching for some inexplicable reason—and then turn back to the dog.
Best to stay focused on the emergency at hand. There will be time later to worry that I might be developing something more serious than a sex addiction to Violet Boden.
CHAPTER 13
VIOLET
By the time we get Dash to the vet—Adriana insists on naming him, assuring Georgia that the magic of a new name will keep the little guy from crossing over the rainbow bridge—get him checked out, and fill out the paperwork for Dr. Moshin to board him while he’s under observation for a broken leg and internal injuries, it’s eight thirty and the girls are both weak from hunger. Adriana’s stomach is growling so loud I can hear it over the hum of the traffic on College Avenue.
“Everyone okay with tacos?” Deacon asks, guiding the truck into the parking lot of Viva Taqueria.
The man is so bossy he can even turn questions into orders.
A tiny voice in my head reminds me that I loathe that about him, but I’m not feeling anything close to loathing for the man who orders the family pack meal and limeade for four and gets up twice for extra napkins when the girls prove incapable of keeping their salsa inside their carne asada tacos.
No, not loathing. Not irritation.
The emotion spreading through my chest like honey is warm, soft, and as sweet as the jasmine-scented air outside my house. It teases at my nose as I stand in the drive, watching Deacon jumpstart Georgia’s ancient bug and give her strict instructions not to turn off the car until she gets home.
“And tell your parents you probably just need a new battery,” he says. “I’d try that before taking it into the shop.”
“Thanks.” Georgia beams up at him from the driver’s seat. “It’s just my mom and me. But my mom is great with cars. She rebuilt the engine for this one herself.”
“Sounds like you’re in good hands, then,” Deacon says.
Georgia nods. “And she’s a really good cook. And an amazing dancer. You should get her number from Miss V, maybe. If you’re single.”
I lift a hand to my face, concealing a smile as Deacon’s eyes go wide.
“Don’t see no wedding ring,” Adriana says, darting past Deacon to kiss Georgia’s cheek. “I’ll get him hooked up with Mama Jay’s digits, just in case. You drive safe. And don’t forget about the Calc quiz.”
Georgia groans as she shifts into reverse. “Ugh. This day. Can it just be over already?”
“Almost there!” Adriana encourages, pumping her fist in the air as Georgia pulls out. She waits until the VW Bug glides away before turning back to pin Deacon with a hard look. “You don’t want Miss Jay’s number, do you?”
Deacon shakes his head. “No, thank you.”
“Good.” Adriana crosses her arms at her chest. “Because that would be weird. Considering you’re dating my mom and all.”
My lips part on a denial, but Adriana is already waving a hand in my direction.
“Save it, Mom. I’m not stupid, and you’re the worst liar ever. The stove wouldn’t heat up…” She rolls her eyes. “Seriously, a two-year-old could have seen through that one. Not to mention the googly eyes.”
I huff. “I do not have googly eyes.”
“No, but he does.” Adriana jabs a thumb toward Deacon with a grin. “You think my mom is soooo pretty.”
“Beautiful, not pretty,” Deacon says, not missing a beat.
My cheeks go hot, and I instantly know I’m in trouble.
“Aw, look! And now Mom’s blushing,” Adriana says, going in for the kill, as expected. “You guys are gross and cute and I approve. Now, I have to go study. Thanks for the help and the dinner, Deacon. You seem super cool, but if you hurt my mom, I’ll hurt your face.”
“Understood.” Deacon lifts a hand. “Good to meet you, Adriana.”
“You, too,” she chirps as she turns to me with a wink. “If you have plans tonight, Mom, I’m fine to stay by myself. I can set an alarm and get up on time when I put my mind to it.”
I shake my head. “I’ll be right in. We’re watching a movie, remember?” She starts to argue, but I cut her off, “No, you’re not staying by yourself. Go inside. And just remember, the more you embarrass me now, the more I embarrass you when you bring your next boyfriend over.”
Addie pales, looking so upset by the joke I’m about to apologize and assure her I’m only kidding when her grin pops back into place. “Good thing I have no plans to bring a boy over any time soon. And that I’m not easily embarrassed. Later, Deacon. See you inside, Mom.” She turns, trotting up the porch, her words leaving me feeling strangely deflated.
She us
ed to blush bright red at the drop of a hat. Of all my girls, Adriana was always the most sensitive, but sometime in the past year, that’s changed. She’s changed so much that sometimes I feel like I’m running to catch up with this confident new person she’s becoming. This person with a secret boyfriend she apparently has no intention of introducing me to in the near future.
“You okay?” Deacon shifts closer, stepping into the glow from the streetlamp.
I nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah. It’s just hard. She used to tell me everything and need her Mama so much, and now…” I glance back at the house, dropping my voice. “Now she’s in a relationship she doesn’t talk about, and keeps secrets from me constantly, and I wonder if we’ll ever be close like that again.”
“You will be. She loves you, and girls always need their mothers.” He sighs. “It’s boys you have to worry about. They’ll head off into the world, fall in love, and forget all about the old man who raised them.”
I lean into him, nudging his arm with my shoulder. “You’re not an old man.”
“I feel like one sometimes. Like when the twins are lecturing me on how to work that stupid SnapTalk app they like to use instead of calling. Or Caleb has to install the new operating system on my computer after I’ve crashed the damn thing five times.”
I smile. “Okay, so maybe you are an old man. But you’re a sexy old man, so at least you’ve got that going for you.”
Deacon laughs, a low rumble that makes my skin hum as he draws me into his arms. “Good. Glad I’m not a complete lost cause.”
“Not even a little bit.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “You’re growing on me, Mr. Hunter. Thanks for being so wonderful tonight.”
“Just being a decent human being.”
“You were much more than decent,” I insist. “You were generous and patient and calm in the face of teenage girl tears. You deserve a medal for courage under fire during a shit show of a first date.”
“Does that mean I get a second one?” he asks, his eyes flashing. “I’d really like to see more of you.”
“I’d like to see more of you, too,” I breathe, my heart fluttering in my throat as memories of how close we got to banging in my kitchen flicker on my mental screen. “Is tomorrow night too soon?”
“Tomorrow night is perfect,” he says. “I’ll pick you up at six? We’ll grab dinner?”
I lift a shoulder and arch a brow. “Or I could come to your place for dinner. Addie will be home tomorrow night so we wouldn’t have privacy here, but I hear your kids are already at college, so…”
He shakes his head. “No, ma’am. I need to take you out. That’s the only way I’m keeping my hands off of you long enough to eat.”
“Well, eating is kind of overrated, isn’t it?”
“Not all eating,” he says with a bob of his brows that makes his meaning clear.
“Gross.” I huff and roll my eyes, but I’m smiling when I say, “I’m a lady on the street, Mr. Hunter. Save your dirty jokes for my kitchen, where they belong.”
His laugh is a deep, easy rumble that warms me all over, so cozy that it doesn’t seem strange when he bends down, pressing an oh-so-tender kiss to my forehead.
It’s an affectionate kiss, not a hungry kiss. Unprecedented for us, but…I like it.
I like it so much that when he says, “Let me take you out. I want to buy you a meal, look at your pretty face across the table, and torture myself a little dreaming about what I’m going to do to you when I get you back to my place,” I nod.
“Okay.” I hold his gaze, my pulse pumping faster. “But pick me up in the diner parking lot at the end of the block, okay? I’ll meet you there. I don’t want Addie getting any ideas.”
“Ideas about you dating again? Because I think that ship has already sailed.”
“No, ideas about me being gone for a significant amount of time. I’ll tell her I’m going for coffee with my friend Mina or something, that way she won’t know when I’m getting back and will hopefully stay put in her room studying instead of sneaking out to meet whoever she’s been meeting.”
Deacon frowns. “If you need to stay home with her, I understand. We can meet up another time.”
“No, she’s eighteen. She’s fine to be home alone,” I say, before adding in a softer voice, “besides, I want to see you again.”
“I want to see you again, too.” He draws me closer, kissing me one last time. But it doesn’t feel like a goodbye kiss. It feels like hello and the start of something new.
CHAPTER 14
DEACON
She’s all I can think about.
All day long, as I help Dad fix a hole in the fence at the back of the property and make a run to town for groceries and gasoline for the tractor, my thoughts are a million miles away.
Or twenty-two miles away, to be precise, at the Better Way shelter, where Violet is busy supervising cat socialization. She sends me pictures of the skittish-looking and downright irate cats, along with captions that have me laughing aloud more than once. They also give me an excuse to keep scrolling back through our texts to the picture she sent me this morning, the selfie of her pointing, eyes comically wide, to the kitchen counter where I came so close to being inside her.
I’m pretty sure my kitchen is haunted by the ghost of almost-nookie past, she’d typed beneath. Excited to see you tonight.
Excited doesn’t begin to cover it.
I’m out of my head. Out of my mind. Drunk with anticipation and dizzy with wanting her. I’m an addict in desperate need of a fix.
But I want more than a one-night stand. There’s no way I’m getting enough of Violet in one night. That’s why we’re going to go out and enjoy each other’s company before I take her home and devote myself to making her come. I’m going to prove to her that we can have fun together with our clothes on—even if it kills us.
And it just might. I’ve never heard of anyone dying of lust, but it feels possible.
The hours crawl by at sloth speed until fire ants are crawling beneath my skin. I’m sporting a semi most of the afternoon, and by the time I jump in the shower at four, I’m in a dire state. I almost jerk off under the hot spray—just to take the edge off before I’m exposed to Violet’s explosive sex vibe again—but in the end, some sick part of me insists on suffering.
I don’t want to come in my own hand to fantasies of Violet. I want to come buried inside her, with her legs wrapped around my waist and her kiss on my lips and those sexy sounds she makes lighting me up the way no music ever has.
And I love music. Music is the one thing in my life that has never let me down.
I’ve had my share of shit days on the job and dud sessions at the gym, and I won’t even get started on failed relationships—familial and romantic. But the moment I pick up my guitar, I’m there in my happy place, where there’s nothing but the strings beneath my fingers and the melody in the air. My guitar has saved my life a few times, right after my divorce and later, when I was deployed and missing the twins so much it felt like someone had carved out some vital organ. Playing my favorite songs always brought me back from the edge.
But there’s something about Violet’s sigh in my ear, her hum of pleasure against my skin. It reaches down deep inside of me, to a place not even music has ever touched.
It should scare me, I guess. For the sake of my sanity, I should probably avoid this woman like a court marshal. Instead, I dress in my best black button-down and a pair of dark wash jeans and push the speed limit all the way to Santa Rosa.
I get to the diner parking lot fifteen minutes early, but she’s already there, standing outside the front door, cupping a coffee in her hands, looking good enough to eat in a fuzzy short-sleeved pink sweater, jeans, and cowgirl boots. Beating back a sudden fantasy of Violet in those boots and nothing else, I step down from the truck and cross the lot to meet her.
She spots me coming, and a smile breaks out across her face, a firework lighting up the night sky, so bright and beautiful it makes m
y heart skip a beat. She’s clearly happy to see me, and I haven’t been this thrilled to wrap a woman up in my arms in way too damned long.
“You’re early,” she says, drawing me in for a welcome hug with one arm, all the places where she’s seductively soft pressing against me, making me question my sanity all over again.
Why the hell did I insist on dinner again? I’m starting to think I have a masochistic streak I haven’t fully explored until now.
“I hope that’s all right.” I leave my arm around her waist, fingers teasing at the place where the small of her back becomes the curve of her ass. I’m quickly falling in love with this place. I want to kiss it and bite it and mold my fingers over the sweet curve while she’s riding me, urging her on with my hand.
“It’s perfect,” she says. “You can help me finish my hot chocolate.”
“Having dessert before dinner?” I lift a brow as I accept the warm mug.
“Yeah, I’m wild like that,” she says, her eyes dancing. “Sometimes I’ll have nothing but dessert for dinner. Just a bowl of oatmeal cookie dough with extra almonds and raisins mixed in, and a big glass of milk.”
I hum around my sip of salty-sweet cocoa. “Raw egg in there, too?”
“Sometimes.” She flips her hair over her shoulder. “If I really want to live on the edge.”
“Scandalous.” I take another drink, shaking my head in mock judgment. “And you look like such a nice girl, too.”
“I’m a woman, Mr. Hunter, not a girl.”
I sigh, gaze sweeping up and down her curves as she reclaims her cocoa and tips it back, draining the last inch of sweetness. “Yes, you are. I’ve been thinking about that all day, Ms. Boden.”
Her lips quirk as she swallows. “Yeah? About what a grown-up I am?”
“Something like that,” I agree.
“I’ve been thinking about what a grown-up you are, too.” Her tongue sweeps across her bottom lip with a shameless sensuality that makes me thicker for the seventy-millionth time today. “So are you sure you wouldn’t rather get grilled cheese and French fries to go and head straight back to your place?”