Page 43 of Dibs
“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to doubt you, Deac. I love you, and of course, you can pack a bag for me.” I smile at him, and he finally sends me one in return, relief etched in his expression as he flops back in his chair and lets out a breath.
The next day,I obsess, trying to figure out what my big surprise is. I also struggle to find the perfect outfit for it. All Deacon tells me is to dress warmly, so I pick out a soft, pink-ribbed sweater with a plunging neckline, a matching Burberry scarf, and a linen-blend, wide-legged pair of jeans with flat leather booties in a soft brown. Now that my hair is pink again, I’m embracing my former favorite color.
I’ve spent too much time on my hair, nails, and makeup by the time Deacon walks in from work at 3 p.m.
He walks toward me, drops his briefcase, and asks, “Is that red lipstick going to get all over my face when I kiss you, baby?”
I grin. “It’s Color Stay.”
With that, he takes my lips with his and kisses me hard, shoving his tongue past my teeth until our tongues duel. Deacon presses me back against the nearest wall and slides his hands up my belly until he gains access to my breasts and begins to pinch my nipples as the kiss turns hot and desperate.
Finally, he pulls back, wipes a hand over his face, and groans. “If we keep this up, you’ll be late to your surprise. Let me just get changed. Just remember where we left off so we can pick this up again later, will ya?”
I give him an exaggerated wink. “I was just going to get on my knees for you. I’ll remember.”
Desire surges through me, and I try to tame it. I’ve also spent all day trying not to look in the overnight bag that Deaconpacked for me last night for any clues about where we’re going. He’s packed his fancy camera, that much I know, and he comes downstairs after changing into dark jeans and a dark gray sweater with a few pillows and our overnight bags.
“Everything else is ready for us,” Deacon announces. “You got everything you need? Floss? Your fancy face cream? That watermelon lip balm you love so much?”
“Got it all.”
“Face mask? Earplugs in case I snore?” Deacon asks.
“One sec!” I run back and grab my face mask, which is all black and in glitter, and it says, “Fuck Off.” I grab a cozy throw blanket off the bed and then I head back downstairs with a smile.
I’m ready for the surprise.
Before we leave, Deacon slips a little key into my palm and whispers, “Keep that safe.”
He makes me put the face mask on during the drive over, and it’s not terribly far. To Deacon’s credit, he plays my lord and savior Taylor Swift on the drive to wherever we’re going, and I sing along with “Wildest Dreams,” really getting into it, then ask Deacon to play it again.
He’s amused, and he turns it on again as I dance exaggeratedly to it in the front seat with my “Fuck Off” mask on and the world cast in total darkness. I bob my head and use my water bottle as a microphone—yes, I’m overdue for a night of karaoke.
I feel the tires squeal over little pebbles, and I'm almost positive I know where we are now. Deacon kills the engine and comes around to open my door, helping me out of the truck. When he sweeps me up in his arms and carries me, a giggle escapes my lips. I can hear the gentle lapping of the water, so I suspect we’re going to our favorite dock.
When he rips the mask off my face, I’m standing on the dock, pointing at Hans’ boat.
“Surprise! The boat is ours tonight!” Deacon tells me, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “If you’re wondering where I was yesterday, it was here, getting lessons on boating from Hans, filling the kitchen with your favorite drinks and snacks, and getting the place ready for us. Hans was so sweet, he cleaned the place for us before I arrived yesterday.”
“Aww,” is all I can manage, pressing my hand to my rapidly beating heart. Deacon slips back to the car to grab our bags and pillows, and I don’t waste a second jumping from the dock to the boat and doing a celebratory dance when I don’t stumble or trip. Grace isn’t my middle name.
Deacon arrives and tosses me the items that I somehow catch without dropping them into the lake, and he tells me to go down to the cabin to get warm, but I’m not cold. I bring our things downstairs and see that there are candles everywhere, card games on the little coffee table by the comfortable two-person sofa, and the galley is piled high with snacks.
The place is spotless, and I run over to the bed, jump onto it, and flop onto my back. It’s actually very comfortable, moderately soft without a single lump, and I release a happy sigh. I’ve never spent a night in a boat, barely ever been out in one, much less one that’s going to be Deacon’s in several months.
Then the boat starts moving, and I run over to the bridge to take a photo of my man at the controls of the boat. Deacon looks so sexy, all clean-shaven, smelling of my favorite Calvin Klein cologne and his woodsy aftershave. The scent had filled my nose throughout our entire drive here, intoxicating me and making me antsy to make love to him. I’m always ready for him, a stark contrast with my past.
We drop anchor when we get to the center of the lake, and then we meet up on the deck as the last beams of sunlight bow to the dark blues and purples of evening. Deacon lightscandles that the light breeze tries to snuff out. The late autumn chill sneaks up my spine, so Deacon tightens the throw blanket around me and whispers, “Snug as a bug in a rug.”
It's something my dad used to say to me. I’m not sure if I’ve ever told Deacon about it, but the sweetness of the phrase makes me misty-eyed. There’s magic in the air, and the purple LED lights glow bright enough for us to see each other clearly The candlelight scatters shadows across Deacon’s face as he smiles down at me, his arm coming around my shoulders to pull me closer.
“It’s so peaceful here,” I whisper. “Surrounded by the gentle waves, under this purple sky.”
“Hold on,” Deacon tells me. “There’s so much more. It’s just a waiting game.”
I have no idea what he means, but I turn until I’m on my back with my head in his lap as I stare up at the sky. His fingertips dance across the exposed skin of my face and neck. He leans down to kiss my forehead, and tells me, “I love you so much, Aspyn Beckett. We were made for each other. You do know that, right?”
“I know.” I nod in confirmation. “And I love you more than anything. You’ve been patient and loving for so long, and I can’t wait for the rest of our lives.”
