Deacon Johns

by Ciana Stone

  “I can understand that. It’s why I encouraged Matty to come here and buy the blacksmith business. If he’s not going to be a SEAL, he should start with something he knows and is comfortable with. Before he joined the service, he learned from the smith on the reservation and he loved working the forge. Every time he’d go home on leave, he’d spend time with the old smith.”

  “And you?” Deacon asked. “Do you love it?”

  Mica looked at the dancers on the floor, feigning interest. “It’s more for Matty than me, but I do enjoy metalwork.”

  “But?”

  She looked at him and felt a momentary stab of discomfort. Was it her imagination or could he see through her ruse? “But nothing. It just takes time to get accustomed to a new place.”

  “Where were you before you moved here? And don’t say the reservation.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that would be a lie.”

  “Oh? And you know that how?”

  “From the way you speak and conduct yourself. From your appreciation of fine whiskey. You’re trying very hard to fit in here, to be the girl from the reservation, but you’re not that at all. You may have started there, but I’d bet a month’s pay that you didn’t stay.”

  Damn. He’s good. Mica had a decision to make and no time to ponder, so she went on instinct and her gut. “You’re right. I didn’t. I left as soon as I could, got an education, a job, and tried to pretend I hadn’t grown up there.”

  “Then why come here?”

  “For Matty.”

  “That’s one.”

  “One what?”

  “Lie.”

  Mica almost denied it, but she couldn’t allow herself to get into an argument with him. Particularly in a public place. Nor could she face the look on his face, that expression that told her he knew she was keeping secrets. So, she took the coward’s way out. “Excuse me.” She tore away from him and hurried outside.

  She had just reached her truck when he caught up with her, took her arm, and stopped her. “Don’t.” She looked at his hand on her arm and then up at him.

  “Why?”

  “Truth?”

  “Always.”

  “Because you get to me.” She shook free of his grasp and challenged him with her eyes. “And yes, I get that you already know that, but you asked for truth so here it is. My past is mine and not of consequence or interest to anyone other than me. As are my reasons for being here.

  “I’m not the only one with secrets. I just spent the evening with three people who carry enough secrets to fill a book. But they’re your secrets and I respect that. If the day ever comes when you want to share, I’d be honored to listen, but until when or if that day comes, I’ll respect your privacy and expect the same from you.

  “Finally, I didn’t lie. I did come here for Matty. Okay, for me as well, but I could have gone to a number of places. Places where, as you so astutely pointed out, I would blend in. But Matty couldn’t. Something broke inside him during a mission. He saw children die and it wounded something vital inside him. It damaged his purity.

  “I know that probably sounds silly to a veteran like you, someone who’s seen all the horrible things people do to one another in war, but Matty isn’t like you. Yes, he’s this giant of a man, all brawn and muscle and probably one of the best ever at kicking down doors and maybe even instilling terror in his enemies. But inside he’s the most gentle person you can imagine.

  “He’s good. Genuinely good, through and through. He has a purity of spirit that’s rare and beautiful and something happened to damage that, and I thought maybe here he could find it again. And maybe something was leading me here because Etta is here and you’re here and you’re two people he honestly trusts.

  “So, call me what you want, and think what you want, but don’t ever for one instant presume to know how I feel about—”

  Nothing could have prepared her for the shock when he interrupted her diatribe by reaching out to take hold of her. He put his hand behind her neck, reeled her in, and silenced her with a kiss. For the first time in her life, she literally trembled. Nothing in her life had ever prepared her for the emotions that kiss evoked.

  This was a kiss unlike anything she’d experienced. Deacon took without force. He was in charge. There was no mistake about it. Yet he gave as equally as he took and what he gave had her temperature rising in under two seconds. His free arm circled her body and hitched her up snug against him and her temperature jumped a few more notches.

  He claimed and promised with the kiss, claimed her as his and promised pleasures she was eager to know. Mica knew beyond all doubt that he was dominant in the true sense of the word. This wasn’t a man who would the play at a BDSM lifestyle, but a man who didn’t know how to be anything other than alpha, to command and dominate. For the first time in her life, she wondered how it would feel to submit to such a man.

  So, she surrendered to the kiss and to him, but not with passivity. That simply wasn’t in her nature. Her hands moved to his sides, fingers digging in, clutching tightly as she pressed against him.

  Deacon waltzed her backward into the door of her truck and rodeoed her up against it, still locked in the kiss. Mica wound her legs around his waist and his hands moved beneath her ass, supporting and squeezing. She didn’t even bother to try to stifle the moan that rose up her throat. Had he asked, she’d have stripped naked right there for him.

  “Deacon?”

  That sound did it. Etta’s voice ended the kiss. Deacon released her and once her feet were on the ground, he answered with his eyes still on Mica. “Yeah?”

  “We’re headed out. You want a ride?”

  “I do.”

  “Okay, meet you at the car.”

  “Yep.”

  Mica’s gaze was prisoner to his and remained so when Etta walked away. She saw his expression change and knew before he spoke, she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

  “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.”

  “Inappropriate?” That was an odd choice of words, at least to her. “Why?”

  “You’re too young.”

  That shocked her speechless. Of all the excuses in the world, he was going to play the age card? What kind of man did that? Men didn’t turn down women because of their age. In fact, older men were always eager to get their hands on a younger woman.

  “I wasn’t too young a minute ago.”

  “Yes, you were. I just forgot myself.”

  “And what?”

  “And indulged in fantasy.”

  Mica didn’t know what to make of that. “And you don’t like fantasy?”

  “Oh yes, I do. But sadly, fantasy is always just that—something that isn’t real. Good night, Mica. Drive safely.”

  Mica watched him walk away and stood there for a long time after that. What just happened? She knew she wasn’t alone in that kiss. He wanted her. So what if he was older? Age didn’t matter. At least to her.

  But apparently it did to him. Why? Her natural determination returned, and she opened her truck door to get in. Fantasy, he said. Fine, if he saw her as a fantasy, then she would give him fantasy enough to make his dick explode from wanting her.

  Because, as her father was fond of saying about her, come hell or high, water she was always determined to get what she wanted.

  And she wanted Deacon Johns.

  Chapter Six

  Deacon tried to talk himself out of the foul mood that had claimed him an hour ago when Etta sniped, “Screw you, Deacon,” and marched off. He’d watched her go, trying to stem his own anger. Maybe he should have gone after her and tried to smooth things out, but the truth was, he was tired of explaining himself and justifying his actions. He was a grown man, of mature years no less, and the days of him defending his behavior were long gone.

  He walked outside and took a seat on the porch swing. Twilight was a pretty time and he enjoyed watching the day fade into night. This evening the sky was streaked with a gray that brought so
mething else to mind.

  Mica’s eyes.

  Deacon muttered a curse. It’d been several weeks since that night at the Honky Tonk bar. He should be over it by now. They’d only shared a kiss, after all. But what a kiss. As much as it troubled him, he couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. Or her.

  He’d lived a good while and aside from his ex-wife, no woman had ever gotten under his skin this way. But why? Was she that much more attractive or sexy than any of the other women he saw from time to time? What was it about her?

  Yeah, it’s time to admit that, isn’t it?

  Damn, sometimes his conscience had Etta’s voice, which was extremely annoying. But he knew that question came from the fact that he had been avoiding doing that very thing. Admitting that Mica Gray Horse got to him. She was sexy, talented, intelligent, personable, good at listening, damn good at kissing, and above all that, she was a mystery.

  Just his luck. Deacon always fell for mysteries. He loved stewing on them, figuring them out, uncovering the truth behind the mystery and coming to understand how and why they began.

  What she’d said to him that night came back to him again, and not for the first time.

  “…you get to me. But then you already know that, but you asked for truth so here it is. My past is mine and not of consequence or interest to anyone other than me. As are my reasons for being here.

  “I’m not the only one with secrets. I just spent the evening with three people who carry enough secrets to fill a book. But they’re your secrets and I respect that. If the day ever comes when you want to share, I’d be honored to listen, but until and if that day comes, I’ll respect your privacy and expect the same from you.”

  She’d hit the nail on the head with her words. He, Etta, and JJ all had secrets they kept locked securely away. Perhaps they trusted one another—no, that was wrong. He and JJ trusted Etta to keep their secrets, and maybe he trusted JJ now as well, but he damn sure wouldn’t offer up the skeletons in his closet for public viewing.

  It didn’t matter that she had secrets. Again, he liked uncovering truths, so the fact that she kept things hidden intrigued him. It did matter that she was attracted to him and bold enough to tell him. He almost wished she hadn’t.

  Maybe if she had kept that particular bit of knowledge to herself, and had not shown her humanity in the way she cared for her brother, maybe he wouldn’t have acted impulsively and kissed her.

  He knew it was wrong, even as he initiated the kiss. But the desire he felt was stronger than his good sense at that moment, and however wrong it was, he had enjoyed it. And God help him, he wanted more.

  That didn’t mean he would have it. Sometimes a man had to forgo what he wanted and do what was right. That’s what he and Etta had been arguing about. She didn’t see that it was a question of right and wrong. Nor did she see a problem with their difference in age.

  He, however, did. He’d seen men his age hook up with younger women. It worked for a time, then the blush faded from the bloom and the women started to see those men for what they were. Older. Not as fresh, vibrant, and energetic as the women, and therefore, not as appealing as the women originally thought.

  It typically didn’t end well, and he’d be damned if he would wind up being one of those middle-aged men who let himself be led around by his dick and made a fool.

  He’d spoken those very words to Etta and she said he didn’t have to worry about being made a fool because he already was if he let some silly attitude like that keep him from pursuing a relationship with the first woman who’d really interested him since he got divorced.

  That’s what had precipitated the latest argument and why she’d stomped off, leaving him feeling disgruntled and angry that he couldn’t get Mica out of his mind.

  His phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket. It was Mathias.

  “Hello?”

  “Commander Johns? It’s Mathias Gray Horse.”

  “Good to hear your voice again, Mathias. What can I do for you?”

  “Come to dinner on Sunday? My sister’s a pretty good cook.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t impose—”

  “It’s not an imposition if you’re asked.”

  Despite his reluctance to be in the same room with Mica again, Deacon didn’t see a way to gracefully refuse. “I’d be honored. What can I bring?”

  “Just yourself. We eat at one.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “No, thank you, Mathias. See you Sunday.”

  “Great.” He grumbled after he ended the call. Just when his life had started to get easy, she showed up.

  Which reminded him, he’d put in a request for intel on Mathias and his sister, ostensibly because Etta thought Mathias might benefit from therapy. Admiral Angel had sent her a file on Mathias, but Deacon thought they needed information on the pair since Mathias left the service.

  He placed a call and waited for an answer. “It’s Deacon. Do you have that information I requested? Yeah, you have my address and email. Thanks.”

  The information wouldn’t arrive before tomorrow’s dinner, but he’d have it within a week and then maybe he’d start to unravel the mystery of Mica Gray Horse.

  It didn’t dawn on him until he’d gotten up, gone in the house, and started the shower that he was actively trying to solve the Mica riddle. When it did hit him, he sat down on the edge of the tub, put his elbows on his knees, and lowered his head into his hands.

  Despite his resolve, she’d gotten to him. Now what?

  *****

  Mica and Etta carried the takeout containers into the kitchen and put them in the trash. Etta and JJ had stopped by the Honky Tonk and picked up food for dinner. Mica offered to pay, or at least for her and Mathias’ meals, but Etta refused to take her money.

  “We’re going over to the shop,” JJ announced from the door. “I haven’t had a chance to take a look at it yet.”

  “Fine. I’ll hang here with Mica.” Etta walked over and gave him a kiss.

  “Want anything?” Mica asked after JJ left.

  “No, thanks. I’m good.” Etta leaned on the kitchen counter and watched as Mica tidied up. “Need help?”

  “No, just sit and talk to me while I fix the coffee pot for the morning and wash up what’s in the sink.”

  “Did the Dawsons leave all of the furniture?” Etta asked.

  “Yes. Awful, isn’t it? I’m going to get rid of most of it. I thought I’d check with the thrift shop to see if they know of anyone who needs furniture.”

  “I can’t say I blame you. I mean, it’s okay, but obviously isn’t your taste.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Things like your dish towels, cutlery, and glasses. All top quality. You obviously have expensive taste. Classy as well.”

  “Well, thank you and yes, I do like nice things. I’d really like to redo this entire place—just gut it and start over, but I don’t know anyone who does that kind of work.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “I do?”

  “Well, sort of. Hannah’s husband, Bryson, built Sanctuary. He owns his own company and is pretty amazing.”

  “I definitely need to talk to him.”

  “I imagine it would be costly.”

  That statement prompted Mica to change the subject. “Speaking of Hannah, have she and Cody always lived here?”

  “Yes, as far as I know. Why?”

  Mica shrugged. “Growing up on the reservation, all I ever did was dream of leaving so I guess it seems odd for two vibrant women like them to be happy staying in the small town of their childhood and not going out and exploring the world.”

  “I suppose, but then as someone who’s seen a lot of the world and a lot of the bad in it, I think there’s a certain appeal to small town life.”

  With the conversation turned to talk of people Mica had met, like Charli Judd, who she really liked, and others she had not, she finished her chores.

  When
Mica finished, she turned to Etta. “Okay, that’s it. Let’s go sit and relax.”

  “That sounds good.”

  They returned to the family room, kicked off their shoes and sat on the couch. “I’m grateful to you and JJ. It means a lot to Matty to have JJ pay a visit.”

  “JJ wanted to. Me too. And I’m sorry it’s taken so long to get JJ over here. Time gets away from me sometimes. It’s hard to believe it’s been three weeks since we had dinner at the Honky Tonk.”

  “I know. Still, I appreciate you coming over.”

  “Well, it’s not just for Matty, you know.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that more than you can imagine. It’s nice to have a friend.”

  “Amen to that. Especially after the last couple of weeks.”

  That surprised Mica. How had she not picked up that something was wrong? She was normally pretty intuitive about that sort of thing. She and Etta had gotten together a number of times in the last few weeks. They’d started running together three mornings a week, alternating between Mica going to the Sanctuary and Etta coming to town. On the mornings they ran in town, they had breakfast at the diner.

  They also had shared a couple of lunches and phone calls. Twice Mica had spotted Deacon as they finished their run at Sanctuary. She’d waved and he’d returned the gesture, but he sure hadn’t smiled. She was trying not to be discouraged by that.

  And this wasn’t about her and Deacon. “I’m sorry. You haven’t mentioned anything being wrong. Is it bad?”

  “Not really. I’ve just been at odds with Deacon for a while and I hate that.”

  “I know you and he are good friends, or at least I assume so from the dynamics I’ve observed. Do you find yourself at odds often?”

  “Are you sure you didn’t major in psychology?” Etta asked and then chuckled. “Sorry, you’re just very perceptive. But to answer the question, no, we don’t often argue.”

  “Is it rude to ask why you’re arguing now?”

  “Rude, no, but I can’t betray his confidence so let’s just say that he and I don’t always see eye to eye on things.”

  “Well, what two people do?”

  “Good point. Okay, my turn. At the risk of being too nosey, what was that I saw that night in the Honky Tonk parking lot? I’ve been dying to ask.”