Page 52 of Deacon

I stand in the center, hands folded.

Maybe he won’t come.

Or maybe he will—that’s more nerve-wracking.

I think back to the night I spent with him. We started as strangers. But when we woke up, I think we became something else I can’t name. And I liked it. I felt safe in his arms.

That’s unexpected.

My eyes follow the vines and flowers I painted on my bed frame, over the dried flowers, cedar, and lavender, the jars full of rocks and shells.

The Appalachian Mountains, the soft green hills, the snakelike rivers, were my safe place. Now, my safe place is boxed and paintedonto my furniture. I’m roaming in my heart, ready to let the wind pull me up and blow me away.

Somehow, instead, I ended up in the bed of a man who looks just like the men I’ve been running from all my life.

I turn on the radio so the house isn’t dead quiet. Then, I wash up in the bathroom and braid my hair down my back. The air has a little chill to it, so I pick out jeans, boots, and my fern-green sweater.

Something crunches on the driveway. I frown, freezing.

That doesn’t sound like a truck.

I put my boots on and go downstairs. Through the front window, I see Deacon Ryder on his dark horse, so tall, he’s a shadow against the sunset.

My stomach swoops. He’s rough but so damn handsome. And he didn’t forget he was coming for me.

Heart thumping, I push open the front door. He dismounts and heads toward the porch, stopping at the bottom step. He takes off his hat and slaps it on his thigh. A puff of dirt comes off it. He looks good, windswept, like he was riding hard. They were probably working all day up at Ryder Ranch.

I slip out onto the porch. I should be afraid of being alone with him, but I’m not, and I’m worried that means something. Things are moving fast.

“You look pretty,” he says.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “I didn’t realize you were going to pick me up on a horse.”

“That a problem?” He turns to look at Bones. “I can hold you right up here in front of me.”

“It’s fine,” I say quickly. “I’ll go get an overnight bag.”

“Pack light,” he says.

It doesn’t occur to me what that means until I’m heading back downstairs with my messenger bag over my shoulder. Was the implication that I shouldn’t bother to pack many clothes because I’ll be naked?

He’s standing by Bones, waiting. I let him lift me up, and then he’s behind me, holding me against his warm chest. He clicks his tongue,and Bones prances sideways before turning to head up the hill where our property lines touch.

I’m glad for his iron arm over my body, because Bones runs like the devil is on his tail. He seems to love it, but I’m shaken, especially when he scales the low portion of the fence easily and gallops down the hill on the other side.

I swear, my teeth are chattering from fear when we pull up in the driveway of Ryder Ranch. Deacon slides down, unbothered. He glances up and sees my face, and a line appears on his forehead.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” he asks.

I nod. “Just a little cold.”

He lifts me down effortlessly. I feel him, a warm, thick slab of muscle against my body. Then, I’m on my feet, and he’s hollering for someone in the barn to come get his horse. Andy appears. His eyes glint as they run over me, but he doesn’t seem surprised. I stand awkwardly while they confer in the overhead light.

The man takes Bones’ reins and disappears into the barn. Deacon comes back to me, his hand on my waist, and ushers me up the stairs and into the house.

I’m swept off my feet. One minute, he’s showing up to my house on a horse called Bones. The next, he’s got me in his house and he’s taking my jacket. I look down at him, on one knee, pulling my boot off, and realize I like this.

Nobody has ever taken care of me before.

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