by Jo Willow
“Bree, I appreciate the offer and you’re right. Pierce is a teddy bear and any woman would be lucky to have him...”
“Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming on? You’re into bad boys aren’t you? You don’t look the type, but I can feel for you. Grant was a bad boy and I fell hard.”
Whoa. Back up the truck. Grant? A bad boy? Cow milking, beekeeping Grant? I’m sorry but I almost blew nasty tasting lemonade out of my nose. I kept it together and kept on churning.
Bree was watching me closely.
“Believe me, I know it’s hard to believe NOW, but you should have known him when we first got married. All that black wavy hair and those blue eyes. He filled his Levis out too, let me tell you.”
Oh god. Please don’t. And yet, she continued.
“He rode a motorcycle and wore a heavy denim jacket like James Dean.”
I could see it now. Rebel Without a Cow.
“The first time my folks heard that thing pull up, they locked me in my room. Daddy had a fight with him out in the middle of the yard and told him it would be a cold day in hell before his daughter took off with a hoodlum on one of those death traps.”
She finished her lemonade and poured another. Bourbon included. I kept on churning.
“The next week, he drove up in his dad’s Chevy Impala. Freshly washed and everything. He took me to the drive-in and, well...”
“That’s okay Bree. I don’t need the details, I get the picture.”
“Yes. Well. The thing is, we were married a year later. So I understand all about your bad boy infatuation thing.”
I took a deep breath and let it out.
“Bree, I do not have a bad boy complex. My ex was the biggest nerd you’d ever care to meet. Bad boys mean nothing but trouble to me. I usually avoid them.”
“Even Grant?”
She had me there. Grant was like Pierce in a way. Bad boy? I still doubted it.
“I can see you trying to work it out Dor’, but I swear it’s true. If Grant can change, so can Deacon. He wants to you know. He’s ready to settle down with you.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I sincerely do. And damn it, I want some babies before I get too old to enjoy them! I’m entitled to grandbabies. I put up with those three without killing them or shipping them off to boarding schools, I think I deserve a reward!”
Now I was tickled. Drunk Bree was loose-lipped Bree.
“Were they that bad?”
“That bad? They took everything apart and fought constantly. Deacon talked Anton into jumping off the garage roof once by tying a red towel around his neck. He told him it had special powers and he could fly. The dumb ass kid believed him. Three hours I spent in the E.R. waiting for them to set his broken arm. Pierce wrecked two cars while trying to learn how to drive, and they all snuck out once they hit their teen years. They’d sneak back in at one or two in the morning and assumed we never knew. Yeah right. Wait until you have my grandbabies. You’ll see what I mean. You develop the hearing of a bat and eyes in the back of your head. Nothing gets by you. Nothing.”
Things were ramping up and as much fun as I was having, whatever was in the churn was getting harder to move around.
“Uh, Bree? This feels like sludge. It doesn’t want to move.”
Her eyes lit up and she clapped her hands.
“Oh goody! It’s done. Now come in and help me drain and mold.”
We moved inside and tried to do exactly that without destroying her kitchen floor. She was right. Buttermilk tasted like something left outside in the heat for a day or two. No thanks. The butter was a pretty light yellow though and putting into molds was actually kinda fun. I’d most definitely pick up a cow when I got the dream farm. Now I knew how to get my own milk, cream, and butter. Maybe I could sell the buttermilk. Or maybe Spock would like it. I didn’t care, I was learning new skills and reveling in the experience.
Once we got our mess cleaned up, I put on a pot of coffee. Before three of you stand up and say, “That’s a myth. Coffee does not sober people up”. I know that. But it was something to do and it felt like the prudent thing to do, so I did it. Besides, if she was drinking that, she wasn’t drinking the lemonade. If Grant or Deacon walked in to a tipsy Bree, they’d wonder how that happened and I wasn’t in for the recounting of what I’d learned. Some secrets are best kept between us pioneer women.
Two hours and three cups of coffee later, things were settling down. Bree was frying chicken and I was mashing potatoes and we were both grooving to the Stones trying to get Satisfaction. Again, I know how they feel.
The back door opened just about the time a sleepy looking Deacon came shuffling around the corner. If he was carrying a teddy bear he could not have been cuter. He was rubbing his eyes and scratching his tummy and I just wanted to lick him, he looked so sweet. When he saw me and smiled, another brick fell out of my wall. Damn it. I needed a better brick mason. Then the asshat spoke.
“Ahh... don’t you look all domestic and stuff. Mashing potatoes in the kitchen with mom. You’re gonna make one hell of a wife Dorothy.”
Now what in the hell did he mean by that? Did he mean HIS wife or A wife? He was standing behind me kissing me on the neck before I had a chance to ask and I almost dropped my pot of potatoes. He’d slipped his arms around my waist and he was still warm and toasty from his nap. Before I knew what I was doing, my head was flopped over to the side and he was chuckling under my ear.
“See? You can’t help yourself. Why don’t you just admit you’re mine and we can move on.
I jumped forward and he laughed again. His father was laughing as well as he washed his hands in the sink and the kitchen felt way too crowded all of a sudden. Bree nudged him with her elbow, saving me the trouble of whacking him with a potato masher.
“Deacon make yourself useful and set the table. Grant? Pour the milk.”
They moved like they had no options and I liked that. I had much I could learn from Bree Sloan. I wanted to be her when I grew up and got my shit together.
The four of us settled down to eat dinner and I thought it would be awkward but it wasn’t. Grant asked Deke about work and Deke questioned his folks about the farm. Several times he reached over and squeezed my hand before he winked and resumed eating. This Deacon I could get used to. This was more like my friend Deke, not my new boyfriend, Voldemort. The meal was fun and comfortable.
Afterwards, Deacon and I volunteered to clean the kitchen and we shooed his parents out onto the back porch for some quiet time together. I washed and he dried and it stayed quiet for a minute or two before he spoke softly in a serious tone.
“Dor’ do you think you’ll ever forgive me?”
I knew what he was asking, he didn’t have to spell it out.
“I already have. You’re not asking the right question.”
“What should I be asking?”
“The question is, will I ever trust you again? The jury’s still out on that one.”
“Trust is a hard one, I agree. The only people I’ve ever trusted were my family and you. Oh - and Miranda.”
“Well see, you just proved you have shit instincts in the trust department.”
“I can’t trust you?”
I casually sprayed him with the sink sprayer and continued.
“You shouldn’t trust Miranda.”
He put down the plate he was drying, wiped off the shirt I’d drenched and turned to face me.
“That’s the second time you’ve eluded to that. If there’s something I should know, I wish you’d tell me.”
I dried my hands, folded my arms across my chest and turned to face him so that we could make solid eye contact.
“She wants you Deacon. As in Mrs. Miranda Sloan. She’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen, including sabotage of you and me. She warned me off you in a hurtful way and made her intentions perfectly clear. You think she’s just your P.A., but she doesn’t see it that way. The things you let her do only solidifies the belief that eventually
you’ll realize you feel the same way. If you don’t, then you’re not doing her any favors.”
“Are you jealous?”
I narrowed my eyes and wished I had a superpower. Like a death ray or fire breathing.
“I just told you that your secretary told me I was nothing to you but a piece of ass and you’d break my heart, and THAT’S what you come away with? Maybe the two of you are made for each other after all. Go for it. Would you hand me that glass please?”
I went back to washing dishes and he stood there thinking.
“You’re serious. She said hurtful things to you.”
“She did. And you blew them off. Now, I’m done. I warned you and that’s all that I can do.”
“Would you rather I replace her?”
“I honestly don’t give a flip what you do. Replace, screw her, marry her, I could care less.”
“You’re lying again, I can tell. You care a great deal. You care about everything that concerns me and you always have. That’s why you’re mine.”
“Will you quit talking about me like I’m a damned toothbrush? How can you say ‘I’m yours’? We haven’t even talked about whatever this is. How do you know how I feel? Have you even stopped to ask and then actually listened to what I’ve said?”
He took my sudsy hands and spun me around until my back was against the counter. He pulled my hands around his neck and put his around my waist. Then he pushed me hard against the counter and gave me one of those open-mouthed-hotter-than-hell electric kisses that made my legs wobble and my insides liquify. I kissed him back. My aggression made him growl and I liked that so much I did it again. The sense of power I got was almost overwhelming. I made him do that and I couldn’t help but do cartwheels in my head. Take THAT Miranda, you evil skank.
At some point in the festivities, his hands were on my ass and he was pulling me even closer. I didn’t realize this however, until his hand was sliding down my leg and he hooked it behind my knee. Then he slowly pulled it up around his waist.
I knew where this was going. It may have been three years, but certain mechanical aspects of the act don’t change and Anton gave me strict orders. Do not sleep with him. Okay, technically this wasn’t sleeping, but I knew what he meant. I took his bottom lip between my teeth and nipped him gently before I pulled back. He moaned but allowed it.
“Why are you pulling away? I know you want me and you have to know I want you, I mean, come on.”
He kissed me again and I kissed him just as aggressively before I pulled back yet again. If this continued, I’d be having to explain myself to Anton tomorrow when I did the walk of shame back to my room.
I took a step away from him to regroup and that’s when I noticed my blouse was unbuttoned. How did he do that without me noticing? His eyes were glued to my chest and I had a flashback of Hamm on his knees. I almost laughed, but I reeled it in. Something told me that laughing at a man in the throes of passion was probably a major faux pas.
I scrambled to rebutton my blouse and he reached over to help. I slapped his hands away while I giggled and he smiled in return.
“What? I undid them, the least I can do is button you back up. Nice bra by the way. Lace. I love you in lace Dorothy.”
Something about the way he said that made me want to check and see if the butter was melting. Maybe I was attracted to bad boys and never realized it until now. What if I was easy and just didn’t know it? It’s not like I’d had enough partners to be able to tell... and just as I was about to step off that cliff, I remembered that if I was easy, I sure as hell wouldn’t be going through a three year dry spell. Crisis averted.
“Dorothy, what are you thinking babe?”
“I was wondering if it’s you or if I’m easy.”
Nice. Why is it that if I’m gonna say something absolutely stupid or incendiary, I’m gonna say it to Deke? I. Am. Hopeless.
He started trailing kisses up my neck until he hit that spot under my ear that always made my thoughts scramble. His hands were kneading my hips and he was pushing me back against the counter again.
“You’re not easy baby, you’re mine. This is how you’re supposed to act when you belong to someone.”
“It is?”
I was breathing so heavy, I didn’t even recognize my own voice.
“Uh-huh. Why don’t we go upstairs where it’s private and I’ll explain it to you.”
“Uhm... okay.”
No wait. Upstairs contained bedrooms and a bathroom. All places where people get naked. The sneaky asshat. This was going to take a lot of willpower on my part, even more once we got home and we didn’t have the threat of his parents walking in unexpectedly. For three long years, nothing. Now, I had one of the top ten wealthiest bachelors in the country trying to coax me upstairs by promising me explanations and a tour of his room. I was royally screwed.
“Deacon, we can’t. Not here. It’s your folks house and I’d feel cheap.”
He stopped immediately and took a step back, pushing his hand up through his hair.
“Dorothy, I’m sorry. I would never do anything to make you feel cheap, I swear it. I don’t know how to explain myself except to say that now that I know what I want, I don’t want to wait for it. We had so much together and this feels right. It feels like something we should have been doing all along. Don’t you feel it? Am I alone here?”
Dang. I knew we had to talk, but I thought I had time. It seems the timer just went off. I could have lied, not that he wouldn’t see right thru it, but that wasn’t the point. How could I demand honesty from him when I wasn’t prepared to give it at such a crucial moment? In my heart, I knew I couldn’t, so I did what was right.
“You’re not alone. I feel it and you know I feel it. I couldn’t react the way I do every time you kiss me or touch me if I didn’t. I want this to be real Deacon and I believe you when you say it is. But for how long? Your track record speaks for itself and if I can only have you a handful of times and then you dump me, I’d rather keep my friend and deal with the ‘what if’s’.”
I couldn’t read the emotion that was in his eyes, but I braced myself for what was coming next.
“Are you always going to hold my past against me?”
“It has nothing to do with your past. It has to do with our past. I don’t think you know how much you hurt me. How you broke me. No man has ever made me feel the way you made me feel, good and bad. I’ll tell you now, I don’t think I could survive it if you made me feel loved and then walked away from me. Losing your friendship was one thing, but losing your love might just do me in.”
He looked nervous. Every ounce of self-confidence he was famous for was gone. I’d stripped him bare and he was standing before me confused. I could see it.
I waited to see what he’d say in response. I must have looked just as nervous as he was because this was it. He knew exactly where my head was at.
He reached out and took my hands and squeezed before he released them.
“Alright. I understand.”
“No way. Not again. You make these vague comments and leave me wondering what the hell you meant. Tell me exactly what you understand Deacon.”
“I understand that you’re mine and I’ll have to try harder to convince you. Because no matter what you believe Dorothy, you ARE mine. Start with that at the center of your thoughts and your universe and build out from there. You’ll get to where I am eventually and I’ll be ready.”
I don’t know if I was more relieved or angry that we were back to me being a possession.
“So you’re not giving up?”
He laughed once and stood shaking his head.
“Do you not know me at all? I said you were mine. I’ve never claimed a woman before in my life and I’m glad I’ll never have to again. I’ve got the one I want and she wants me too. Why would I give up? I simply have to prove you can take another chance on me. I can do that. How hard can it be?”
“Out here with the cows? It should be no problem at all. Back
in the city with those cows? It might be harder than you think. Miranda alone is going to make your life hell over this. Not to mention all the women in your little black book. What happens when we’re at another event and Sylvia shows up? Think you can resist her... talents?”
“I’m holding out for your...talents. I’m good.”
I wanted to believe him. It sounded good on paper, but when the rubber met the road? Only time would tell.
I kissed him and smiled. Then let the water out of the sink. I wondered what I’d be dreaming about tonight.
Chapter Eleven
Before I tell you about the fresh hell I went home to, let me tell you about my wonderful weekend with the Sloans.
The entire weekend felt strangely like one long double date. The four of us did the chores, took turns cooking meals, and played games or watched movies at night. Deacon held my hand, stole kisses, and walked me to my bedroom door each night before kissing me goodnight. It felt like some weird dream sequence like in a TV show, where at the end of the series the main character wakes up and the whole damned thing was a dream? Yeah. Like that. I kept pinching myself to make sure it was real. Deacon caught me a few times and had a look on his face that I understood. I knew he was wondering if I was into self-harming, but try explaining the reality of what I was doing. Let him think what he wanted. The thing is, I knew what we were doing the whole time it was happening. Bree and Grant knew it too and I’m thankful no one said the words to define it. We were falling head-over-heels for one another and as each day bled into the next, I realized Deacon was right. I was his. Would I tell him that? No freakin’ way. Not yet anyway. It was easy to be love in such an idyllic setting. I was curious what would happen once the real world had it’s way with us. I couldn’t imagine the trouble that Miranda alone could wreak. So I refrained from saying the words or doing the deed, just like Anton advised. But it was hard. Deacon behaved as well and seemed to take his cues from me.
Then reality set in. Monday morning reared it’s ugly head and I knew I had to go home. I felt much better and I was ready to kick start my life again. Even though Deacon was off for the rest of the week, he elected to go back with me. He said it would give us more time together. He said it would help others acclimate to our new relationship. He said it would be a piece of cake, because we’d be standing together in this. He lied. I don’t think he meant to, but sometimes that’s the way things go down.