WHILE DEACON FINISHED up in Hazel’s room, Loretta dried her hair, then grilled the flank steak and made the strawberry and almond salad. She saw Deacon pass by with his tools and head out the front door, so she assumed he was wrapping up. When he came back in, he headed into the hall bathroom, and when he came out, he made his way into the kitchen.

“All done?”

“Yeah. That new window is secure now. No air or water leaks. I also put in a new frame, because the one surrounding the window was shot. The paint around the frame has to dry. I’ll come back Monday to rehang the drapes.”

“That’s not necessary. I can handle that part.”

“I don’t mind taking care of it.”

“Okay. Thanks so much, Deacon. I know Hazel will be thrilled.”

“Not a big deal.”

“Ready to eat? And how about that beer?”

“Yes to both.”

Loretta brought out beer and a pitcher of sangria she’d made earlier. Deacon helped her take all the food to the table.

“This is really nice of you, Loretta, but I’m beginning to feel like you think you need to feed me every time I’m here.”

She laughed. “No. It’s just a total coincidence that I’m hungry every time you’re here.”

“That makes me feel a little better.”

“Good. Then let’s eat—without guilt.”

She had sliced the flank steak into thin portions, making it easy to layer it onto the plate or even add it to the salad, depending upon preference. It was a nice, lean meal, and the guac and salsa were a spicy bonus.

Deacon took a large bite of the steak and salad, followed by a long swallow of beer.

“So tell me, did you fix this healthy food for me, or for yourself?”

“I fix what I like to eat. I try to fix healthy food for Hazel. Tom was a big fan of burgers or fatty steaks at every meal, and I’m trying to change her diet.”

He nodded. “I like a cheeseburger and a good juicy steak, but you know what they say.”

“I have a weakness for those, too, but yeah, everything in moderation. I want my daughter growing up making decent choices. Or at least knowing what a vegetable is.”

He laughed. “That’s really all you can do. And this is great food, Loretta. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I’m looking forward to having fresh vegetables to add to the table.”

“You’re off to a strong start. You’ve already got a few tomatoes growing.”

“Having a nice sunny spot on the back porch helped, but they really needed to get into the ground. Hazel wanted me to wait until she got back so she could help me plant them, but I just couldn’t wait any longer to start the garden.”

“Hopefully she’s having some fun with her dad.”

Loretta let out a snort.

“So . . . she’s not having fun?”

“I doubt it. He doesn’t see her on his regular visitation schedule. He only asked for her because he wanted her to come with him on a campaign run. He’s using her for photo ops.”

“Ouch. I’m sorry.”

“So am I. Hazel loves her dad and wants nothing more than to spend time with him. Real time, not him parading her around campaign stops. I keep hoping he’ll change, that he’ll realize what a treasure of a daughter he has before it’s too late.”

Deacon laid down his fork. “And?”

She shook her head. “It hasn’t happened yet, and I’m giving up hope that it will. His new wife is pregnant, and she’s from a political family, so his head is already into building the new dynasty, but he knows the optics mean he can’t ignore Hazel. He has to periodically show her off to prove he’s a good father. But I already know he won’t spend a second of non-camera time with her while she’s there. When they’re not in front of the camera, she’ll be with the nanny, and she’ll come home disappointed as usual.”

Deacon grimaced. “What a dick. I’m sorry he’s not a better father.”

She scooped a chip into the guacamole. “So am I. Hazel deserves better.”

“She’s an awesome kid, Loretta. You’ve done an amazing job raising her.”

She lifted her gaze to Deacon. “Thank you. At least she’s happier here than she was in Dallas. More relaxed. And God knows she’s having a lot more fun.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He resumed eating, and Loretta felt bad for burdening him with her woes about Tom.

“Was it rough on her? On you?”

She frowned. “Was what rough?”

“The marriage.”

Her stomach twinged as the question bordered on very dangerous territory. “You don’t want to hear about that, Deacon.”

He took a swallow of beer and laid the bottle on the table. “I asked, didn’t I?”

He had, but she wondered why. “In the beginning, it was fine. I had this dream of what I thought it could be, that I had made a decent match. And Tom was a good enough guy to start out. I admit I wasn’t madly, passionately in love with him. Not like—”

She stopped herself before she admitted something she shouldn’t, something that would hurt him.

“Not like what?”

“Not like I felt I should have been. My parents pushed the relationship, and so did his. I guess I fell in line. When he asked me to marry him, I said yes because it seemed only natural, part of the plan.”

His gaze showed interest, not condemnation. God knew he had the right to condemn her for the choices she had made.

“But not your plan.”

She let out a short laugh. “I’m not sure I ever got to be part of the plan. It was more of a whirlwind. I wanted to get my degree, and that’s where my head was. We got married midway through college, and after that we lived in an apartment on campus until after graduation. Tom went to law school, and I taught school for a couple of years until Hazel was born. After that I took some time off to care for her. When he got his law degree, we moved to Dallas, and he went to work at one of the big firms and started moving up the ladder pretty quickly. I wanted to go back to teaching, but he wanted me to be there for him for all his important social events. He was going places in a hurry, and he needed constant reassurance and a wife who intended to stand by him.”

“So you had to give up your career for his.”

“I didn’t see it at the time because I was trying to be supportive, but yes. I had Hazel, and she was such a joy to be around. The last few years, though, were tough. Tom was running for city council and working nonstop. He was barely at home. I tried to talk to him about spending time with Hazel, at least, and he told me his career was the most important thing in his life and Hazel and I were just going to have to understand that.”

“What the hell? She’s a child. How was she supposed to understand the lack of her dad’s presence in her life?”

“Exactly. But Tom is all about Tom and his needs and wants. No one else matters. It took me a long time to figure it out, but once I came to the conclusion that no amount of reasoning with him was going to change who he was, I got out. And he had already chosen wife number two anyway. Someone with better political connections. So Hazel and I leaving him didn’t hurt him any, other than the family money he had to part with in the settlement.”

“I hope you gouged him in the divorce. The Simmons family has plenty of money.”

She shrugged. “I don’t care about him or his money. I made sure there was money put aside for Hazel for her future and for college, and enough to set us up here with a decent house and land. I wanted to start my own business, because I’d given years of my life to seeing to his needs. And of course he pays child support until Hazel is eighteen. I made sure Hazel was provided for no matter what. Other than that, I just wanted out.”

“I’m sorry it was such a shit show for you.”

“Which was my fault and no one else’s. I’m just sorry Hazel is paying for it. She’s such an amazing kid.”

“Other than having an ass for a father, I don’t think she’s suffering, because she has a great mom.”

She blinked back tears. “You have to stop doing that, Deacon.”

“Stop what?”

“Telling me how great I am. You know what I did to you. What I did to us. You should hate me.”

He pushed his plate to the side and picked up his beer. He studied her, and she waited for the condemnation. God knows she deserved it—had prepared herself for whatever wrath he was going to rain down on her.

“For a long time after you broke up with me, I did hate you. I was hurt, and then I was pissed. What we had together was really good, and I couldn’t understand how your feelings could turn on a dime like that.”

She started to say something, but held it back. Nothing she could say could explain what she’d done. And it was Deacon’s time to talk.

“But you can’t hold on to shit like that. It’ll eat you alive. I let go of that anger a long time ago, Loretta. You need to let go of it, too.”

She was surprised that he wasn’t yelling at her and, in fact, was telling her to let go of any negative feelings she might have over her marriage to Tom. “I’m not angry.”

“No, but you’re dwelling on it.”

She had dwelled on it for a lot of years. And she couldn’t believe he hadn’t taken this opportunity to really let her have it for what she’d done to him. “I don’t think you just let go of something monumental that happened in your past—erase it as if it didn’t happen.”

“I didn’t say I erased it. I know it happened. Every time I look at you I remember. Every time I’m around you I’m reminded of what you and I had together. Of what might have been. But if I let bitterness enter the equation, it’ll choke me until I can’t breathe. And what good will that do me? I can’t change what happened. Neither can you. We were both kids back then. Kids don’t always make the best choices. You did what you thought was right at the time. Maybe if we’d stayed together it would have been great. And maybe we wouldn’t have ended up staying together. Who the hell knows, Loretta? I don’t. Do you?”

She stared at him, shocked by this philosophical, almost Zen-like being he had become. “I guess not. I had always pictured you as being so profoundly pissed at me. It was one of the things that gave me pause before I moved back here.”

His lips curved. “You expected me and my posse to hunt you down as soon as you came back to town so I could hit you with twelve years of suppressed anger and resentment?”

“Okay, when you put it like that it sounds kind of ridiculous. But I didn’t know how you felt. The last thing I remember was you being really angry.”

He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I was really angry. When I was nineteen. That was a long time ago. And when you came back to town? I’ll freely admit I wasn’t all that happy to see you. Out of sight, out of mind and all that, ya know? I’d made peace with the decision you’d made. Years had passed. I was over you. And then you came back. I can’t say I was all that thrilled to see you again.”

“I understand that.” Though Deacon had never truly left her mind. She’d thought about him a lot after the divorce, especially when she’d made the decision to return to Hope. She knew it wasn’t going to be a happy reunion between them, and maybe she had expected him to hunt her down and yell at her.

That hadn’t happened, of course, and she’d felt ridiculous for even thinking it would.

“I just wanted you to know how sorry I am for the callous way I treated you.”

He shrugged. “Like I said, it’s in the past, and I’m over it.”

Somehow she didn’t think those wounds were as healed as he wanted her to believe. Leaving him had hurt her. Thinking about how she’d done it still hurt her. She remembered the look on his face when she’d told him it was over, that she didn’t love him anymore. The pain and confusion in his eyes was something she’d never forget. And walking away from him was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

That first year at college in Texas, all she’d thought about was Deacon. She’d developed a relationship with Tom, but a part of her was still threaded to Deacon. She was homesick and miserable and her heart ached for the boy she’d loved and hurt. How could she explain to him that she had broken up with him out of a sense of duty? That made her seem so weak.

Seem? Ha. She had been weak back then. A docile, obedient daughter who’d done what she was told. Who’d become a docile, obedient wife. At least for a time.

“I’ve changed.”

He looked up from his plate. “Into what?”

“A different person than I was before.”

“I liked who you were before just fine.”

She shook her head. “Back then I let other people make decisions for me. I’m not making excuses for what I did to you, Deacon, or laying the blame on anyone but myself. But I didn’t have the strength—or maybe it’s the backbone—back then to stand up for what I wanted. It took a lot of years for me to find that inner strength, to learn to say no to being manipulated into doing things that aren’t good for me or for my daughter.”

He nodded. “Glad you were able to do that. It’ll help Hazel become a strong woman someday.”

She smiled. “Hazel was born with an inner strength. I don’t think that’ll ever change. She’s very self-assured and knows exactly what she wants—and what she doesn’t want. I don’t think anyone will be able to deter her.”

“I can see that about her. She got you to bring Otis home, didn’t she?”

She looked over to where Otis was asleep on the living room floor, then smiled. “Yes, she did.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever have to worry about Hazel.”

She dragged in a deep breath, then let it out. “I think there will be a million times when I’ll worry about Hazel. Like this week while she’s with her dad.”

“Nothing you can do about her relationship with him. You’ll just have to let her work that out on her own.”

“I know. It just makes me sad for her.”

“All you can do is be there for her and let her know that you love her. She’ll eventually grow up and realize her dad is a dick.”

The thought of it filled her with an aching sadness. “Yes, she will.”

He stood and grabbed his plate and his empty bottle of beer. “You can’t fix everything, Loretta. Sometimes you just have to let things happen.”

She got up and followed him into the kitchen, allowing his words to soak in. Was that what she’d been trying to do? Fix the past, and maybe the present, too?

If so, Deacon was right. She needed to stop it. It was counterproductive.

They did the dishes together in companionable silence. She was thinking about their dinner conversation. Maybe he was, too. She wondered if he was upset that she’d brought up the past. A lot of guys buried it and never wanted it dug up again.

She’d brought it up, but they hadn’t really talked about it in depth. It had been more like circling around the topic without hitting it head-on. They’d ended up talking more about her marriage than their past. And maybe that had been Deacon’s way of avoiding such a touchy topic between them.

One of the things she’d worked on as part of building her strength and self-esteem was not shying away from uncomfortable subjects. Maybe tonight wasn’t the night to push Deacon any further on the past, but at some point, they’d have to talk it over further. Because he might say he’d put it aside, but she knew better.

The past wasn’t dead and buried between them just yet.

“Another beer?” she asked after she put away the last pot.

“Sure.”

She pulled a beer out of the fridge, then poured herself a refill of sangria.

“Let’s sit out back,” she said. “Otis can run off some energy that way.”

They stepped outside. There wasn’t much out here yet, but she had ideas for it. Right now it was just a slab of cement, a few chairs and a table. But the landscape back here just called for something better.

She settled in and watched as Otis grabbed on to one of the thick rope toys they’d bought for him. He shook his head back and forth, growling with ferocious fervor, occasionally bonking himself on the head with the rope as he let go of it.

She laughed.

“He’s entertaining, isn’t he?” Deacon said.

“Never a dull moment with that dog.”

Deacon looked around. “This is a great backyard. Tall trees, lots of shade, and a good view of your land. You can see the chicken coop and the garden from here.”

“Yes, it was one of the selling points for me. I’m going to put in border flowers around the perimeter as soon as I build . . . something here, besides this plain old cement slab.”

“What you need is a deck,” Deacon said.

“You think so? I was just thinking about expanding the concrete.”

Deacon stood, beer in hand, and wandered the edge of her small patio. “Nah. You have such a nice view. You need a deck to increase your sight line. Great place to host barbecues, and you have the space for it.” He walked it out, extending the space by about twenty feet. “You could take it this far and not have to dig up any of your foliage—and still have plenty of space for stairs leading down the side to the vegetable garden.”

She thought about it, how a deck would look filled with patio furniture and a nice new grill instead of the secondhand charcoaler she’d picked up in the interim. She could put a couple of cushioned chaises on a deck, along with a table, a few more chairs, and some pretty throw pillows. She could really make it an entertaining space for herself and her friends.

“I like that idea. What would it take to make that happen?”

He arched a brow. “You want me to build a deck for you?”

“Of course, you’re plenty busy enough. It would be your company, if you have the time and you don’t feel this job is too small or not worth your time.”

“It’s not too small.”

“Then you could do up a design and a bid for it, right?”

“Reid could draw up a design. I’d want to bring him out here to look over the space. Then we’d give you a bid.”

She nodded. “Okay, why don’t you do that.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks.” She could already see it in her mind. Pretty, finished, and colorful. She wanted to furniture shop right now. “How long would it take to build?”

He thought about it for a minute. “About four weeks.”

“Not too bad at all.” She looked around, envisioning how it would all look, then shifted her attention to Deacon. “Is this how you drum up new business? You visit people’s houses and dream up additions, then make us lust after them until we fork over all our money to make it happen?”

He laughed. “Yeah, that’s me. Forcing the fine people of Hope to renovate against their will.”

“I thought so.”

Otis reappeared from the back of the property, dragging a large tree limb. He dropped it at Deacon’s feet.

Deacon looked at Otis. “Dude. That is not a fetching stick. Try again.”

Otis cocked his head to the side, his tongue lolling to the side of his mouth, his tail wagging rapidly. He stared at the tree branch, then at Deacon.

“Nope.” Deacon motioned with his hand toward the woods. “Go find a smaller stick.”

Otis ran off.

“Do you think he has any idea what you just said?”

“Doubtful. But to him, it’s a game.”

“I just hope he doesn’t come back with an entire tree this time.”

Deacon laughed, then got up. “Maybe I better go wander in that direction to see what he’s up to.”

She stood. “I’ll go with you.”

“You sure you’re up for a walk in the woods? It’s getting dark.”

“I’ve got a flashlight.”

He nodded. “They draw bugs, but it’s good to carry one with you just in case. Got any bug repellent?”

“Yes.”

“Get that, too. There’ll be mosquitos and chiggers in the woods. Maybe ticks.”

She nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

She dashed into the house and went into the kitchen. She had stored the flashlight in one of the bottom drawers, and she found the bug repellent under the sink.

“I only have lotion,” she said as she pushed through the screen door.

He grimaced. “It’s not girly stuff, is it?”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I mean it’s not perfumey.”

“No. It’s unscented.”

“Good.”

He took the bug repellent bottle and lotioned up his arms, then his neck.

“Your turn,” he said, pouring some onto his hands. He crouched down to apply it to her exposed legs.

Well. This was unexpected. He rubbed it in along her calves and ankles. She tried not to be affected by the feel of his hands smoothing along her legs, but this was the first time he’d touched her in years, and she was definitely affected.

“Hold out your arms.”

She did, and she felt the cool lotion on her shoulders. She was grateful she’d chosen a repellent that didn’t have an unpleasant scent, and even more thrilled that Deacon decided he’d rub the repellent into her arms as well.

She could hear him breathing; could feel the warmth of his breath against her neck as he stepped behind her to apply the repellent onto her shoulders. She shuddered as he moved to the other arm.

“Lift your hair.”

She had a ponytail holder on her wrist, so she grabbed it and wound her hair up into a messy half ponytail, half bun high on top of her head.

“How do women learn to do that so fast?” he asked, his voice going low and gruff as he massaged some of the lotion into her neck.

“Years of experience.”

“It’s cute.”

She liked that he thought anything about her was cute. “Thanks.”

“Let’s go figure out what Otis is doing in the woods.”

“Okay.”

He held the flashlight and led the way as they walked toward the woods. She’d explored a bit back here when she first looked at the place, but since then hadn’t bothered. She knew it was deeply wooded with thick trees and bushes. She had wandered in far enough before she purchased the property to realize two things: One, she wouldn’t have to mow it, and two, one of these days she’d have to clear it out—but not right away.

“Be careful.”

She looked down where Deacon was pointing to see two fallen limbs crisscrossed over each other. Because of the denseness of the trees in here and how fast they were losing daylight, it was getting hard to see. If Deacon hadn’t pointed them out she probably would have tripped over them.

About twenty feet farther, there was a fallen tree trunk. “Someone needs to come in here with a Bobcat and clear this land.”

“Yeah, it’s on my list for someday. Just not right away.”

They climbed over the trunk. Deacon took her hand to assist her, but didn’t let go of it as they moved deeper into the woodland.

“Dammit.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He pushed his way past several thin, low-hanging branches. “Should have brought my machete. You need a path in here, at least.”

“It’s easier to see in the daylight.”

“Won’t help you much if you need to go hunting for your dog. Or a missing goat or chicken. Or something that comes onto your land at night that you need to shoot.”

She stopped, and since he was holding her hand, he stopped as well. “Uh, something I need to shoot?”

“Yeah. Like a possum or a skunk or something coming after your chickens.”

“I am not going to shoot an unarmed critter.”

He laughed. “City girl.”

“I know how to use firearms. I am not a city girl.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes. But I’m not keeping guns in the house. Not with Hazel around.”

Deacon went quiet for a few seconds, then said, “She should learn to handle firearms safely.”

Loretta opened her mouth to object, but Deacon held up his hand. “You’re not living in the big city anymore, Loretta, and Hazel’s going to be around other kids whose parents might have shotguns and rifles and handguns just lying around. Education about them is much better than ignorance.”

“You’re right about that. I’ll have to teach her to shoot. And all about gun safety.”

Something else to add to her list of things to educate her daughter about. Living on a farm in a small town was often a lot different than living in a condo in the city. And she needed to remember that.

Loretta heard barking. “He’s up this way.”

Deacon took her hand again and led the way. It was pitch-dark now, and thickening clouds obscured the moon, making it even harder for them to maneuver their way through the heavy bushes and brambles. Deacon still hadn’t turned the flashlight on. No doubt to keep the bugs away.

“Can’t we just whistle for him?”

“We could, but I’d like to know what he’s barking at.”

They finally made their way through the woods. “We’ve hit the fence line,” Deacon said.

There was Otis, head tilted back, barking at a cat that was sitting on the other side of the fence. Otis was jumping up and down trying to get at the cat, who sat completely calm as he observed Otis.

“That cat is mocking Otis,” Loretta said.

“Of course he is. He knows damn well Otis isn’t going to jump that fence or he’d have already done it. So he knows he’s safe. Now he’s just egging him on.”

Loretta sighed. “Well, at least Otis is getting plenty of exercise.”

Deacon let out a short whistle, and Otis whipped his head around in attention.

“Let’s go home, boy.”

And just like that, the dog was at Deacon’s side, as if the two of them had some kind of psychic bond.

They wound their way back through the woods and to the house, where Otis completely emptied his water bowl in about ten seconds, then went over to Loretta and drooled all over her shoes.

Deacon shook his head and went to get the water hose so he could refill the water bowl.

“You have him on a flea and tick medication, right?”

She nodded. “One of the first things I did when we got him, because of the woods on the property.”

Otis had already started drinking again as soon as Deacon began to refill the bowl.

“Worked up a thirst on your hunt tonight, didn’t you?” Deacon asked, then leaned over to scratch Otis’s ears.

“Another beer?” she asked.

“No, I’m good. But I could use something cold to drink.”

“Let’s go inside where it’s cooler. Come on, Otis.”

Otis followed them as they went inside. He went right to the cold tiles in the kitchen, turned in a circle, dropped to his stomach and laid his head on his paws, and went right to sleep.

Loretta moved around him to get to the refrigerator and poured two glasses of iced tea.

“Will this keep you awake?” she asked as she handed one to him.

“Not much keeps me awake after a hard day of work.”

“I’m sorry. If you’re tired—”

He laughed. “Loretta, it’s barely dark outside. I don’t go to bed at nine o’clock.”

“Okay. I didn’t want to keep you if there was someplace you needed to be. Or if you were tired, or if you had, like . . . a date or something.”

He gave her a look she could only fathom as direct and interested. “No date. No place else I need to be. You trying to get rid of me?”

“No. It’s actually kind of lonely here without Hazel’s constant noise. Maybe I’m trying to keep you here awhile longer to stave off that incessant quiet.”

“Then I’ll stay awhile longer.”

She had to admit she was grateful for that. While she loved the remoteness of the farm, the past day or so without Hazel had made her realize just how remote it really was out here.

And then Otis started to snore.

“Not too quiet, though, is it?”

She laughed. “He doesn’t sleep in my room.”

“That’s probably a good thing.”

“You want to watch TV or something?” she asked.

“Sure.”

They went into the living room and sat on the sofa. She grabbed the remote and handed it to him. He handed it back to her.

“You find something. I’ll be good with whatever you choose.”

That was unusual. Tom had always chosen the shows. It was only when he was late coming home or out of town that she got to watch what she wanted.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She shrugged and randomly searched, deciding on a West Coast baseball game.

He looked over at her. “Oh, now you’re just placating me.”

She laughed. “I like baseball, and you know that.”

“That’s right. You do like baseball.”

“I came to all your games. I played on the softball team.”

“I remember. I went to your games, too.”

Her lips lifted. “Yes, you did. You used to throw peanut shells at me through the dugout cage.”

“Until your dad would yell at me that I was messing with your concentration. Your dad yelled at me about a lot of things.”

“Which never bothered you.”

“Not really. I was only interested in what you thought.”

Her lips curved. “I liked the attention from you. You always showed up.”

He smiled. “You were good at first base. I was better.”

She had kicked off her tennis shoes. She flipped around on the sofa and pulled her feet up. “That’s bullshit. I was much better—more limber, and therefore had a longer reach. You know damn well I was better.”

Deacon liked seeing Loretta riled up instead of watching every word she said, as if one wrong word would send him into some kind of rage or make him leave.

“Think so?”

“I know so.”

“Still have your glove?”

“They’ll bury me in it.”

He liked that answer. “I play in a summer league. Maybe you can put that arm where your mouth is.”

She gaped at him. “I haven’t played in years.”

He shrugged. “Then maybe you’re not as good as you thought.”

“Screw that. I’m in. When’s the next game?”

“We practice Sunday afternoons, which would be tomorrow if you can make it. Games are on Tuesday nights. Usually someone is out of town or can’t make it because they’re working late, so we always need bodies. They’d love to have you—if you’re any good, of course.”

“Oh, I’m still good. I might be rusty, but I’m still good. And I can make practice tomorrow.”

He liked seeing that fire ignite within her. He didn’t exactly know everything that had gone down in her marriage, but he’d bet Tom hadn’t built up Loretta’s self-esteem any. He’d also bet he hadn’t played with her, either, hadn’t explored Loretta’s fun side. Deacon had always known Loretta as someone who enjoyed life to the fullest. Maybe she’d lost some of that over the years.

He intended to rectify that. Not only in mother, but in daughter, too. He settled in to watch the game on TV, satisfied he was off to a strong start by inviting her to join the softball league.

“Dammit, Deacon.”

He pulled his attention away from the game. “What?”

“Well, now it’s dark outside, and I want to go dig out my glove and warm up my arm.”

He laughed. “I can come over before practice tomorrow and warm you up.”

“Would you? I don’t want to walk in there completely cold.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks. Remember when we’d play catch over at your dad’s farm?”

“Yes. And you always told me I stood too far away and you couldn’t throw that far.”

She cocked her head to the side. “You have a faulty memory. It doesn’t matter how far away you stand. I can throw the ball just fine.”

“I guess we’ll see tomorrow, won’t we, champ?”

“I guess we will.”

He could see her mind working as she tapped her fingers on her knees while she watched the game. Finally, she stood. “I need a glass of wine. You want something?”

“A water would be good, thanks.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He watched her walk off, and he could tell by the way she moved she was riled up now. Good. He enjoyed seeing her a little edgy.

She came back with a full glass of wine in her hand.

“Sure it wouldn’t have been better to bring the whole bottle and a straw?”

“Oh, aren’t you the funny one?”

“Usually.”

She took a long, deep swallow of wine, then another. Deacon felt the tension in her body as she sat next to him. Maybe something was on her mind and she needed the wine to get it out. He watched the game, figuring she’d either say it or not.

When she emptied the glass, she set it on the table, then shifted to face him. “You should kiss me now.”

Not much shocked Deacon, but that had. “What?”

“Kiss me, Deacon. It’s not like you don’t know how.”

“I know how, Loretta. I’m just trying to figure out why you’d ask me.”

“Because there’s this tension between us, and we should eliminate it.”

He studied her, squinting a little so he could zero in on her features. “Are you drunk?”

“Of course not. Not yet, anyway.”

His gaze scanned her empty glass. “That’s why you poured the oversized glass. A courage drink.”

“Maybe a little.”

He stood, then took her by the hands and hauled her off the sofa. “Loretta, if you wanted me to kiss you, all you had to do was ask.”

He slid his hand around her neck to cup her nape, drew her mouth to his, and paused.

Her gaze lifted, and he remembered what it was like to be drawn in by her sweet amber eyes.

“You sure you want this?”

She pressed her palms against his chest. “Oh yes.”

Yeah. So did he.

He pressed his mouth against hers.