My first snow in the mountains.
“Probably best to get those pumpkins in tonight,” Deacon stated and I looked back to him. “Mountain freeze this time of year can come with a thaw. And repeat. Those pumpkins could be goo in days.”
I turned my head and stared at the cornucopia of autumn delights I’d arranged up my front walk. Real pumpkins. Strings of kickass electronic luminarias. The awesomest Halloween decoration I’d ever seen that I’d found in a gift shop in town: a stuffed, cackling witch on a broomstick decorated with leaves and glittery twine that Deke had mounted on my door.
I turned back to Deacon. “I’ll take them in.”
He nodded and asked, “You got any questions?”
I shook my head.
He looked over that head to my house and muttered, “You got ’em, you got answers a lot easier than callin’ me.”
Deke was in my house so he was absolutely right.
“The guys were great. It looks phenomenal. Thanks so much,” I told him.
His attention came back to me. “Our job, Justice, but glad you like how it turned out.”
Oh, I liked how it turned out.
It was perfect.
I grinned at him.
“Gotta get home to my wife,” he stated, and with the flurries falling around us, the space lit by my outdoor lights, with an abruptness that was startling, I saw life flash bright in his eyes in such a way, I felt my heart squeeze.
Death resurrected, right there for me to witness.
So that was who the call was from.
God, this man existed. He did his thing during the day, going through the motions.
His life began again every time he went home.
That so totally needed to be a song.
“And you gotta get outta this cold or Deke’s gonna kick my ass,” he finished, a (very) small smile playing at his attractive mouth.
Deke was bigger than this guy. Even so, I wasn’t sure it’d be easy for my man to kick Deacon Gates’s ass.
Or anyone to do it.
“Right, thanks again, Deacon,” I said.
He jerked his head to the house. “Inside, Justice. And you’re welcome.”
He moved to his truck.
I moved up the walk, bending to gather a few pumpkins on the way.
I stopped at the front door and turned back, juggling pumpkins to lift a hand to wave.
Deacon was down the lane, his SUV shrouded by dark. I couldn’t see if he waved back.
But I doubted he did.
He was on a mission.
Go home so his life could begin again.
I opened the door on that thought, felt the wave of warmth hit me, squatted and put the pumpkins on the floor by the side of the door.
I didn’t go back for more. I couldn’t see Deke but if he knew I’d gathered all the pumpkins without him helping, this would not make him happy.
As I closed the door on the cold behind me, I took in all that lay before me.
This was obviously not the first time I saw it. I’d watched it all coming together. And that day, as the finishing touches were done, the guys going around sweeping and vacuuming (I still had a cleaning service scheduled to come in the next day and do a full clean—the dudes tidied but they were dudes so they weren’t real good at it), I’d not once but several times wandered around, taking it all in.
Though now it was vacant and quiet and I could do it without distractions or getting in anyone’s way.
It was everything I imagined it to be and more. This more coming from the long copper hood over the center fireplace that was a showstopper. It also came from a set of wide, open-backed stairs set at the landing to the right. The treads of those stairs were the only thing in the house carpeted—thick, cream wool wrapped around each tread. The elegant yet rustic railings were pure artistry. And the inviting widened swirl bottom landing was something I couldn’t envision from looking at the plans. Something that was startlingly beautiful in reality.
All building materials had been taken away but my garage was still filled, now with furniture and décor my designer had been sending, deliveries I’d been getting from hitting go on weeks of online shipping, bags of stuff I’d been buying.
It was now Tuesday, a week and a few days after Deke and I went to dinner with Max and Nina.
Tomorrow morning it was the cleaning service and me unearthing purchases from bags and boxes. Tomorrow evening, Deke had arranged for the guys to come around and carry in the furniture that had been delivered.
And my house would start becoming a home.
The only pall on this was that Deke was scheduled to hit another job Max was working on tomorrow. I would no longer have him at my house all day.
Weirdly, we didn’t get on each other’s nerves with all the time we spent together. Granted, he was working and I also was doing my thing so we weren’t in each other’s presence 24/7, but we spent a lot of time together.
More weirdly (but this weird was wonderful), the way that was felt like it wasn’t going to change. Not that what we had was new and we were in the throes of that—when every second you spent with a lover was fresh and exciting so you wanted to spend every second you had with them.
No, it seemed more like this could be us. Was us. We could be that couple who worked together (if we had a business we both could do together), spending nearly every waking and sleeping moment in each other’s company, that coming natural, being easy, never getting old.
I’d already found that we could do our thing, me going shopping with the girls or into town to get food or a mani/pedi. But there was a settling when I got back.
Not like I couldn’t wait to get back, hated to be away from my man.
Just that, when I was with Deke, everything that was me settled into the fact I was back where I belonged.