Second Chance Hero

by Rebecca Sherwin

  “Lizzie, were you in the office yesterday?”

  “I just had to make sure it was the right brunette.”

  “Did you tell Jenna?”

  “I can't remember the details.” She shakes her head, “I mean we all look the same, I can't remember what I say to who.”

  “Okay. Well, of all the girls of that type,” I hesitate, unsure if I’m adding fuel to the fire, “you were the worst lay and the most boring. Stay away from Jenna.”

  I drop the box of cakes she refuses to take back into the bin as I walk away and look back to see her watching me. I’ve never regretted having ‘trait girls’ so much in the five years I’ve used them. I always knew Lizzie was a little crazy, but it was her quirkiness that reminded me of Jenna. I guess I was oblivious to the crazy-factor, and I know she’s the reason Jenna is now someone’s fiancé.

  “Where is she?” I ask Esteban as he lets me in and I take the bags through in to the kitchen. The family isn’t here yet, only Esteban, and Mindy who’s at the stove cooking.

  “She’s having a shower. Que tal?”

  “Everything’s fine.”

  “I’m old, but I’m not loco. I know last night wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  Mindy laughs, but I know it’s because she’s worried her husband has crossed a line.

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  “Did you fight?”

  I’m not going to get out of this. Mindy stands at the other side of the counter and leans on her elbows.

  “What happened?”

  “There are... girls.” I start, “I don't think they’re pleased that Jenna and I are hanging out. One of them said something to her yesterday and I didn’t know. By the time I found out, five minutes ago, it was too late.”

  “It’s never too late.” Mindy says, turning to the fridge and handing me a bottle. I bite the cap off and take a drink.

  “I already told her. I’m not giving up until she’s Mrs...?”

  “Jones.”

  “Jenna Jones?” They nod. Jesus, “Will she be down soon?”

  “Just go up.” Mindy waves me away.

  “But-”

  “You’re adults. Go.”

  I practically run to the stairs, and up them, before they have a chance to change their minds. I hear the shower running, and my feet follow the sound; I can't help it. I have to be near her. Especially if she’s already in the shower. I’m pulling my sweatshirt off as I walk down the hallway and open the bathroom door.

  She’s in the cubicle, facing away from me and lathering shampoo in her hair. I follow the soapy trail from her neck, down her back, over her incredible behind, and down the inside of her legs. She raises her face to the water and the shampoo rinses off her in waves, her hair falling down her back.

  I carry on watching as she squirts conditioner in her hand and combs her hair slowly with her fingers. She turns around and I’m prepared to be busted, but her eyes are closed and she looks stunning. I can't explain how this girl wipes out every other girl I’ve ever seen naked. Her body is a work of art; curved in the right places, tight and smooth, with a perfect sun-kissed tone and a naturally beautiful face that I could look at all day. I take off my jeans and t-shirt, closing the door and locking it before walking towards the cubicle. I open the door and Jenna gasps as the cold air hits her. Her eyes fly open and she attempts to cover herself up. I step inside, shut the door and back Jenna into the tiled wall, my arms either side of her head.

  Chapter 24

  Jenna

  Oh my god. I’ve slipped over in the shower, died instantly and gone to heaven.

  He’s in the shower with me, and as I watch the water pour over him, I’ve never been so grateful for my habit to forget to lock doors. Or that Deacon is in my life; after everything I’ve done, everything I keep doing, he still follows me into the shower in his incredible naked glory, and looks at me in a way that makes my insides burn.

  “I was just thinking about you.” I confess, taking my arms away from my body and gripping his forearms as they stretch past me.

  “You were thinking about me?” He raises one eyebrow, “In the shower?”

  I nod, biting my bottom lip as I unabashedly eye his body, watching the drops of water as they fall from his hair and branch out, each one caressing a different muscle on their way down his sculpted form.

  “What did you think about me doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  He narrows his eyes, and I make a mental note to reward him for keeping his eyes on mine and not on my body.

  “Maybe I was thinking about what I was doing.”

  “With me?” He clears his throat. Apparently he wants details. Game on.

  “I was thinking about what I want to do to you, Deac.”

  He takes a deep breath, and I copy, attracting his attention to my expanding chest, licking my bottom lip when I breathe out.

  “What do you want to do to me, Jen?”

  “I don't think I can tell you.” I lean forward, press my lips to his chest and circle his nipple with my tongue, “I think I have to show you.”

  Deacon groans on a loud exhale as I take his nipple between my teeth and I feel him harden swiftly between us. His fists my hair and pulls my lips up to his, forcing my mouth open with his hungry tongue. He pushes me back into the wall, my back hitting the cold tiles and I catch my breath, losing the control I wanted over this.

  “You taking control isn’t what I was thinking.” I breathe, forcing myself to break away from his expert mouth, and I make quick work on his neck, warm and wet from the steaming water.

  “I guess you’ll have to tell me then, baby.”

  “You want me to tell you?” I stand back and take hold of him with both hands, stroking him from the root up, “You want me to tell you I was in the shower thinking about having your big hard cock in my hands? How I was thinking about how good you feel, how I love the sounds you make when I’m touching you?”

  As if on cue, Deacon growls low in the back of his throat as I take his balls in my hand, rolling them between my fingers, while my hand tightens around his shaft. Deac’s hand in my hair tightens and I feel a shot of pain, which only fuels my hunger for him.

  I sink to my knees fluidly, looking up at him as the water sprays on my face. My mouth opens over the crown and I tease him with my tongue, dropping my hand to my lap.

  “Jenna.”

  I take Deacon in my mouth as far as I can, hollowing my cheeks and sucking him, cherishing the quick burst of saltiness that I’m rewarded with. I take him back again as he thickens and throbs against my tongue. I’ve wanted to do this for weeks – wanted to feel him come apart because of me. I wanted to give him this, but it gives me as much pleasure to have him in my mouth, rasping my name and pulling my hair, and I moan, closing my eyes and revelling in the feel of him. I feel the sound vibrate through Deacon’s body and he leans over, bracing himself on the wall and watching me.

  “You’ve got such a greedy mouth.” He breathes as I suck hard, pressing my tongue flat to the thick vein on the underside of his shaft, “Like that. Don't stop.”

  I follow his commands, sucking harder and teasing him with my tongue when I pull back for air.

  “Jenna, stop.” He bites, but I can feel his body tighten, ready to release and I continue my assault, “You’ve made your point. Fuck.”

  With a gentle graze of my teeth, he comes, the first spurt hitting the back of my throat and I swallow it down. I milk him dry and sit back on my knees looking up at him; he’s still hard, gasping for breath and his eyes are closed. I scramble to my feet, wrap my arms around his neck and pull him to me, my mouth devouring his, as he parts his lips for my tongue, and picks me up, urging me to wrap my legs around him. He slides through my wetness before I know it’s coming and I grip his shoulders, holding my breath like I always do when he’s inside me; the size of him fills me, and every time I’m convinced I can't take it.

  “Oh, god.” I bite down on his shoulder as he pushes deepe
r inside me and keeps me held tightly to him.

  “You’re cold.”

  He holds me under the water and kisses and nips at my neck, holding still inside me.

  “Please.” I beg, “Take me.”

  “In your bed.”

  With a display of easy strength he shuts off the water and climbs out of the shower, still holding me in place and grabs two towels off the rack before opening the bathroom door, peeking out and carrying me to my room. I shriek as he throws me on the bed and my thighs hit the mattress, my feet on the floor. Deacon’s hovering over me, his hands gripping the top of my legs.

  “Auntie Jenna!”

  Holy shit. Deacon puts his hand over my mouth, stopping me from screaming in shock.

  “She’s downstairs.” He whispers and then he’s gone.

  I sit up in time to see him walking out of the door with a towel around his hips. I can't make out what he says to Phillipa but the sound stops and I climb off the bed, scrubbing at my body to dry off.

  “Dinner’s ready,” Deacon says and I turn my head to see him watching from my doorway, his head cocked to one side, as I put my underwear on.

  “Great,” I roll my eyes and reach for my bra.

  Deac beats me to it and holds it open for me to slide my arms into. He brushes my hair over my shoulder as he does the clasps up, and getting dressed has never been such a turn on.

  “Don't make plans for Thursday.” He says, pressing three kisses on my shoulder before turning me back to face him and looking at me at arm’s length, “I have to get some work done this week, but I’m taking you somewhere on Thursday.”

  ~

  “Jenna!” Jonas calls up the stairs as I’m pulling on my trusty plimsolls, “There’s someone here for you!”

  I smile at myself in the mirror, excited about where Deacon is taking me today. I’ve spent the last three days in the shop; I’ve finished stripping the walls and know exactly what I’ll make for the fete on Sunday.

  I skip down the stairs, stopping on the second to last when I notice a suited dark-haired woman facing away from me, looking at a collage on the wall. I spot Jonas in the kitchen looking between her and me. I frown at him, wondering why he let this stranger into the house, and why she’s here for me. He shrugs and turns away to help Dad with something.

  “Can I help you?” I ask, standing up straight in my jeans and t-shirt and meeting her at the doorway of the lounge. I gesture for her to walk through and follow her in.

  “My name is April Matthews.” She extends her hand and I take it, “Your fiancé arranged for me to come and meet you today.”

  What?

  “Oh?” I take a few steps away from her, “He didn’t mention that I would have any visitors.”

  “He employed me as your wedding planner.” She smiles like I should have known, “He asked me to just come and see what sort of things you get up to. See if I can get some ideas for your wedding.”

  “Sorry?”

  She ignores my confusion and circles me like a predator, and I count four times she walks around me, assessing me from head to toe. She tugs sharply on my t-shirt and I step back to balance myself. Then she pulls back the waistband of my jeans, looking at the label in the back.

  “I think we could find a dress to fit you.” She sneers, stepping round to face me, “We can arrange a make-up artist and a hairstylist. Kip said you want to dye your hair back to its original blonde for the big day, no expense spared.”

  She claps her hands in excitement, but I’m close to tears. I don't understand why Kip has sent this woman round to my parent’s house without me knowing. And now she’s implying I’m not going to fit easily into a wedding dress. I don't want to dye my hair blonde. And I had been quite pleased with today’s make-up until she decided I need professional help.

  “I don't need a wedding planner.” I choke through my trembling lip.

  “Kip said you’re really busy with the cake shops, and you’d need some help to get things planned so quickly.”

  Why has he told her about my shops? And he’s set a date?

  “He’s told you the date?” I ask.

  April glares at me. What is this woman’s problem?

  “No.” She barks, “He’s given us a three month deadline. He said you want to be married by Christmas.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes,” She frowns, “Yes?”

  “I think Jenna would like some time to decide what she wants.”

  Dad is standing in the lounge, and Jonas is behind the sofa in the dining room, looking as confused as me.

  “I’m just doing my job, Mr. Rivera.” April smiles sweetly at my dad, but I see in his face he isn’t buying it. Why has she taken such a dislike to someone she’s supposed to be helping? I didn’t know she was coming here to help me plan my wedding, but shouldn’t she be professional, or at least have an understanding of why I’m so confused?

  “I’m sure you are. If you have business card perhaps you could leave one with Jenna and she’ll get back to you when she has decided what she wants to do.”

  “No problem.” She chirps, digging in her pocket and producing a business card. She hands it to my dad and doesn’t look back at me as she thanks him and he sees her out.

  “What was that about?” Jonas asks, picking up his tea.

  “I-”

  I cry. I don't know why; Kip is pushing with this wedding thing and something feels off. And he has employed a wedding planner who clearly has an issue with me, to follow me around. Maybe she makes all women she’s employed to help feel self-conscious about themselves before what’s supposed to be the happiest day of their life. That can't be normal, she clearly had a problem with me.

  Jonas hops over the sofa and takes me in his arms as I put my hands over my face and cry, my self esteem firmly bashed.

  “Jen?”

  It’s Deacon. Jonas tries to let go, but I grip his jumper and keep my face hidden by my hands on his chest. What am I supposed to tell him? The last thing I want to talk about on a rare day spent together is my engagement. One I don't want to be a part of, and only agreed to because I was so angry with Deacon. When, as usual, there was an explanation, I just didn’t make the time to listen to it.

  “Jen, what happened?”

  “Nothing,” I step back and smile my appreciation at my brother, “I stubbed my toe.”

  He frowns, but says nothing and I see the conflict in my dad’s and Jonas’ eyes. They don't want to lie to Deacon; I don't want to. I’ll tell him, just not now.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, noticing Deac is driving the BMW towards Ashton and not the usual Foster, after we’ve been driving for forty minutes.

  “Shopping,” he looks at me quickly, a childish grin on his face and I reach over to hold his hand.

  “You’re taking me shopping?”

  “Yes.” He laughs and I swoon at the sound. So carefree and sexy, “Something wrong with shopping?”

  “Nope.” I smile, shaking my head, most of the feelings from earlier drifting to the back of my mind.

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “You say that a lot.” I giggle, because being around him, just us being together, has me feeling giggly and giddy.

  Deac pulls the car into the car park of an industrial estate and parks up outside a warehouse.

  “What are we buying?” I ask as he unfolds himself out of the car, “Stolen equities?”

  He raises a hand as I attempt to get out of the car. Maybe we’re just stopping off here before wherever we’re really going. I cross my arms, assuming he’s got to go inside for business but he opens my door and holds his hand out for me to climb out. I take his hand and step out of the car, kissing the back of his hand before he tucks me under his arm, and leads me towards the warehouse.

  “Is this where I die?” I ask, wrapping my arm around his waist.

  “Yep.” He bends down to whisper in my ear and it’s a challenge trying to walk when he’s so close, his warm breath tick
ling my senses as he whispers, “I could ravish you until you can't take any more. I’d be quite happy to fuck you senseless.”

  “Sounds promising.” I say swallowing, as we reach the steel double doors.

  Deacon swings them open and I’ve never been a firmer believer of appearances deceiving. It’s a building shop.

  “We’re shopping for building supplies?” I ask, looking around at the building with shelving from ceiling to floor and aisles of supplies.

  “What’s with all the meaningless questions?” he mirrors what I said to him in a very different tone weeks ago, and bumps his hip into mine.

  He pulls a sheet of paper and a pencil out of his pocket and unfolds the page, revealing a mini replica of the drawing he made of my shop.

  “You can pick out what you want in here. I’ll get the details and get it ordered. I can start it next week. I get all my supplies here.”

  And someone here must have bat ears, because a spritely old man with a beer belly and receding hairline appears in front of us, his smile from ear to ear.

  “Afternoon Mr. Reid,” He greets, shaking Deacon’s hand. Even his hands mesmerise me; you can tell from afar he has a strong handshake, dexterous fingers...Jesus.

  “This is Jenna. Jenna this is Scott, he’s my go to.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I say shaking his hand.

  Deac leads me away from Scott and we walk along the length of the warehouse, before he grabs my hand and pulls me down an aisle full of work wear.

  “I’ve got this fantasy.” He says, spinning me and pressing me against one of the shelves, “Close your eyes.”

  I giggle in anticipation and shut my eyes, waiting in silence to see what Deac is up to. I feel his hand on mine, and then a rough material slide up my arm, settling on my shoulder; Deacon holds the back of my neck, pulls me off the shelf and slips the material up the other arm. He pulls whatever he’s just put on me tight around my chest and pulls me to him, kissing me quickly on the lips. And then he’s gone again and I’m left with tingling lips and a deep yearning in my belly. I hear his boots on the floor as he approaches and wraps something around my waist; it’s heavy. And then after another silence, he tugs at my ponytail, freeing my hair and puts something on my head.