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 something 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.”
Mica didn’t see any point in lying. “Just what it looked like.”
“It looked like you were both into it.”
“I can’t speak for him, but I most certainly was.”
Etta angled to face Mica. “Okay, nosey me, but I’ve always been curious. There was a time I had a major crush on Deacon. Not that he’d ever give me the time of day in that respect and that’s okay because we became family and I needed that more than anything. But still, he’s fine in all capital letters and I’d be willing to bet that he’s pretty darn capable in the kissing department.”
“Capable? No,” Mica said and then smiled. “Amazing? Oh my God, yes.”
“Yeah?”
Mica’s smile faded. “Yeah, really amazing. But he made it clear that wasn’t going to happen again.”
“Oh? Why?”
“Because I’m too young.”
“Deacon has a thing about that.”
“Age?”
“Differences in age. He won’t go out with women who are young enough to be his daughter.”
“Well, how old is he, anyway?”
“Fifty-two.”
“Then age can’t be the real issue.”
“No?”
“No. I’ll be forty next month.”
Etta shrugged. “He probably thinks you’re younger than that. To be honest, I thought you were too when I first saw you. You can easily pass for someone in her late twenties or early thirties.”
“It’s the Native blood.”
“Are both of your parents Native American? I only ask because your coloring would suggest otherwise.”
“No, my mother is one of the whitest women in America.”
“Your tone suggests that you and your mother aren’t close.”
“We’re not. She walked out on us when I was five and Matty was three.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been hard for your father.”
Mica loathed the rush of hatred the mention of her father provoked and tried to keep it from showing on her face. “No, nothing much mattered to him but where he was going to score his next bottle. I hated her for leaving, but then one day I grew up and understood. She was a silly, rich, white girl who fell for a handsome Native and thought it so romantic that they eloped a week after meeting.
“Only it wasn’t so romantic anymore when her family cut her off right after Matty was born and she couldn’t get our father to hold down a steady job. She wasn’t a great mom back then, but she wasn’t a monster either. I guess she did the best she could until finally she couldn’t take it.
“Her parents offered to let her come home. On one condition. She came alone.”
“And she took it?”
Mica nodded. “Indeed, she did. Without a backward glance. That’s when she graduated to monster. We never heard from her again.”
“I’m sorry, Mica.”
“Don’t be. Because of my parents, I learned to be strong and stand on my own. Maybe I wouldn’t have if things had been different.”
“Still, it had to have been difficult for—”
“We’re back.” JJ’s voice interrupted the conversation.
Mica got up and gestured for JJ to sit beside Etta. Mathias took his customary seat in the recliner adjacent to the sofa that was angled toward the fireplace.
“Mica, you and Matty have some amazing art,” JJ commented. “Matty’s ironwork is crazy good and Deacon was right about your blades. Not only are they works of art, but the quality is top notch. You have a couple I’d really like to talk to you about buying.”
“Sure, but for now, how about you tell me your favorite and we’ll consider it a gift.”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course.”
“Well, in that case, the eight-inch hunting knife with the stag handle?”
“Good choice.” Matty nodded. “I’ll go get it.”
“You don’t have to do that,” JJ protested.
“No, you don’t. I’ll run and get it,” Mica added.
“I’ll do it,” Matty insisted, rose, and left the room.
“He’s a lot quieter than I remember,” JJ said when the door closed. “What happened must have been bad.”
Mica nodded. “I hate asking for help, but I really think he needs it. He won’t open up to me. I think he’s trying to protect me. But he needs someone he can trust and you all and Commander Johns are the only people I know that he does trust so, I guess I am asking.”
“And we’re going to help him.” Etta said. “I’ve already spoken to Rear Admiral Angel and we’re going to work something out.”
“Thank you.” Mica felt tears well up and quickly blinked them away. She didn’t cry and it shocked her that she now fought to keep from weeping.
It had been a very long time since she’d experienced genuine human kindness from strangers. Her life had been one of maneuvering for power, profit, or both. Kindness was perceived as a weakness.
Not, it appeared, by the people here and for the first in a very long time, she experienced a moment of real gratitude. If these people could help Matty, then coming here was worth it.