Chapter 15 Perfect
Perfect
Deacon
I swirled the dregs of my coffee in the bottom of the heavy ceramic mug. Unlike most of the newer places switching to tin mugs and paper takeaways, this old coffee shop located on the outskirts of Peppergrove stuck to real mugs that felt solid in your hand.
Sitting by the window, I ignored the whirling snow outside in favour of taking stock of the obstacles twisting and turning inside me.
With no definitive action for me to combat them, they simply swirled around in my mind and shredded my thinning patience.
I’d hoped my parents would have come around by now. When my mother called this morning, I was sure of it. But after a few minutes, she simply reiterated her concern and desire to protect me.
We were at a stalemate.
The hollow in my chest understood they might never accept her. As much as I didn’t want to lose them, I wouldn’t let them interfere with my choice. That was all well and good, but the fact I couldn’t shield her from the pain of their rejection infuriated me.
My brothers were good men, but their values and goals aligned with those my parents instilled in us. Faith. Family. Farm. I was with them for the first two, but from there, our paths diverged.
Since I’d left the working of the farm in my brothers’ very capable hands, I’d been at loose ends.
And it was never a good idea for me to be at loose ends.
I had thoughts of what I might do going forward, but so much hinged on Jenny I couldn’t make a move. I had time and money on my side, but eventually I would have to choose a path.
I missed the camaraderie of my brothers-in-arms, but the military was an escape for me, not a calling.
And it came with a price. The nightmares plagued me, especially since I found out what really happened that night.
I’d let them both down.
God, Charlie.
I did know that the centre of everything was Jenny.
Things had been good in the week since Frostival in that we saw each other nearly every day, but she didn’t invite me into her space, and she hadn’t asked to go back to mine.
I spun my empty mug on the Formica table. How did I convince her she was safe with me when I was the one who left her alone and unprotected when she needed me most?
Logically, I let myself off the hook for believing the worst, but logic wouldn’t mend her heart.
And what were these secrets that left her trembling with fear?
What could possibly drive me away from her?
“I’ve been meaning to catch up with you.”
My head snapped up. I took in the infamous moustache and stood with a smile. “Sergeant Elliott. It’s a pleasure to see you.”
I reached to shake his hand, and he grasped it firmly. “Lieutenant. Mind if I join you?”
“Just Deacon is fine.” I sat down and waved to the empty seat across from me.
He didn’t waste any time. “What are your plans?”
My eyebrows rose. “My plans?”
Sitting back in his seat, he crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “With Jenny.”
I sat forward and dipped my chin. “Seriously?”
“Don’t think I’ve ever been more serious,” he mused, that killer moustache twitching. He cleared his throat and looked up, his gaze steady on mine. “I was there.”
The blood drained from my face. “How bad was it?”
His mouth twisted as he shook his head. “Fucking awful. She’s a strong woman.” He paused. “But she shouldn’t have to be.”
“I’ve got her.”
He narrowed his gaze. “You sure about that? Above all else?”
“You know something.”
He nodded slowly. “In my line of work, I get to know a lot of things.”
I nodded slowly, my adrenaline pumping. “Is she in any danger?”
He shook his head. “The biggest threat to that girl right now is you.”
“Then she’s safe.”
He studied me for a moment then dropped his forearms to the table. “You ever thought about a career in law enforcement?”
I didn’t answer, but the Sergeant’s question stayed with me. It was the most practical option.
Perhaps the easiest way forward.
But when had I ever chosen the easy way?
I needed to make some decisions, but first, I was taking my girl to Ayana’s in Mistlevale.
One hour away from Moose Lake, Mistlevale boasted Christmas all year round. Famous for their seasonal but always Christmas window displays, the streets were rarely empty. And Ayana’s, a restaurant with the aesthetic of a sensual snow globe, was the place to go for special occasions.
Sunday afternoon, Jenny and I walked into St. Michael’s, and I watched her hand off a couple of boxes of cookies to the staff. No wonder they loved her.
Abby thanked her and warned us both Ansel and Darlene were fighting a cold. We kept the visit short, and when we left, I turned the truck toward Mistlevale.
“Where are we going? Am I dressed appropriately? You said to dress up.”
My eyes ran down the length of her curvy frame, taking in everything from the high-heeled boots to the slim skirt to the pretty, V-neck, tunic sweater that framed her beautiful face.
With her hair pulled up and swept away from her face, she looked like a queen.
“You’re perfect.”
Unlike on the drive to Sage Ridge, she chattered like a magpie.
This was the Jenny I remembered, not the quiet, withdrawn, shell of a woman who showed no emotion or interest in life.
“Oh my gosh, Deacon,” she exclaimed as I parked the truck along the curb. “If I’d known we were going walking in Mistlevale, I would have worn pants.”
“When you get cold, we’ll head back,” I promised.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured me. Tossing me a smile, she stepped out of the truck and patted her coat. “I’ve got a new coat.”
When she reached back for her hat and prepared to jam it on top of her head, I laughed. “Hold up on the hat, baby, if you don’t want to mess up your pretty hair.”
I rounded the truck and plucked it out of her hand. “We’ll take it with us.”
Then, tucking her hand into the crook of my elbow, I led her down the street and up the cobblestone path to Ayana’s.
She stopped in her tracks. “You need reservations for this place.”
“I have them,” I assured her, dipping my chin to meet her eyes.
She frowned. “I don’t think I’m dressed up enough.”
“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” I murmured.
With her pink cheeks, bright eyes, and jet-black hair smoothly twisted at the back, she was a fantasy stepping out from the pages of one of those books she liked to read.
Beauty, innocence, and the promise of sensuality.
“I’ve never been here.” She chewed her bottom lip as doubt cast a shadow over her pretty features. “I don’t know that I belong here, Deacon.”
“You, Jenny, belong anywhere and everywhere you want to go,” I grunted, prodding her forward and opening the door.
A pretty woman with a long, blond ponytail stood behind the hostess stand. “Hello, welcome to Ayana’s!” She offered a friendly smile.
I nodded. “Reservations for two under Raine.”
She ran her finger down the listing while Jenny stared around in awe.
“First time with us?”
Jenny started and offered a quick smile. “Yes.”
The blond nodded and looked around. “My Nan designed it. It’s like Mrs. Claus’ boudoir.”
Jenny laughed. “Exactly! I was thinking snow globe, but it wasn’t quite…”
“Right?” the blond exclaimed without letting her finish. “Coat check is down the hall, and then I can seat you.”
“Thank you.” I nodded and placed my palm at the small of Jenny’s back.
God, how I wanted to guide her in just this way for the rest of our lives.
At the coat check I waited until she unzipped her coat before drawing it down her arms. Maybe she wanted a dressier coat for outings such as this one.
I wanted to give her everything.
She dipped her chin, exposing the gentle curve of her elegant neck.
Moving forward, I brushed my lips over the sweet spot, my dick jerking in my pants at the soft hitch in her breath.
“Ready?” I asked roughly.
“Mhm,” she squeaked and walked back toward the hostess, the sway of her hips under her soft sweater inviting me to squeeze.
It was getting increasingly difficult to hold off, and I was beginning to question my motives.
And sanity.
The hostess picked up two menus and perused the map of tables. “I’m going to put you in the corner where you can see everything. Best seat in the house.”
“Oh, thank you, but that’s not necessary,” Jenny protested.
“It’s my pleasure. This way, please.” The blond smiled widely as she left us at our table. “Enjoy!”
Jenny’s eyes followed her as she bounced away to slide into a booth next to a tall, swarthy man with a scruffy chin. A sweet, little girl kneeled on the bench beside him, a mass of colouring books spread out in front of her.
“The crayon looks like a toothpick in his big hand,” Jenny mused.
“He looks like your type,” I commented.
Her eyes blew wide and then she laughed. “Considering you have that same dark, broody, bad boy look, that bodes well for you.”
I grinned. “You’re saying I’m your type.”
“No.” She shook her head, her eyes sober. “Deacon Raine is my type. That’s it.”
“Good. Because Jenny Davis is mine. What are you going to have?”
She opened her menu, a frown line forming between her brows. “Are you sure you can afford this?”
I chuckled. “We won’t be eating here every night, but I’m more than okay to take you out for a nice dinner whenever you want.”
She closed her menu. “I don’t need fancy dinners and gifts, Deacon.”
“Maybe not, but you deserve them.”
She opened her mouth to protest further, but I reached over and opened her menu. “If you don’t order for yourself, I will.”
“Bossy,” she snapped.
“You have no idea how much I want to boss you around,” I retorted quietly, no longer as surprised by her changing moods.
I’d earned every single one of them.
Her big, blue eyes flew up to search mine.
Whatever she saw had her drawing back. “Uh oh,” she breathed.
I laughed. “You’ll be more than okay, baby.”
“You weren’t like that before—” She winced and gave her head a shake as if to dislodge a painful memory.
I swallowed past the tightness in my throat. Jenny knowing I’d been with other women, understanding I was different than she remembered, that had to hurt.
I couldn’t imagine being in her position without plowing my fist through a wall.
She chewed her lip, her brow furrowed.
I reached across the table and covered her hand. “I was like that with you, but I was also just a twenty-one-year-old kid and way out of my league with the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”
She tilted her head, her eyes curious. “You’re not out of your league anymore?”
“I am out of my league,” I stated. “I just don’t care. I want what I want. And that’s you. Us.”
She twisted her mouth to the side in disbelief.
I shook my head. “You don’t see what I see.”
She snorted. “You don’t see, period. You live in a la-la world where fairytales come true and families live happily ever after.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Need I remind you where I’ve been the past ten years?”
“No.” She dipped her chin momentarily, then pressed on. “But you grew up in the perfect family. You got an education, saw the world, had adventures.”
I nodded. “I had opportunities.”
“Yes.”
“I also saw the worst of humanity.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“Jenny,” I called, waiting until she gave me her eyes. “I don’t believe in happily ever after. I believe in us.”
Her sweet lips parted, a response barely formed when our food arrived.
She looked down at the plates sliding across the table, and her face lit up at the beauty of its presentation.
An hour later, she sat back and patted her tummy. “So good.”
I smiled. “Glad you liked it. Should we walk it off?”
“I’d like that.”
“There’s a chocolatier shop not too far from here. We’ll get a hot chocolate before heading home.”
Our server dropped our bill on the corner of our table and told us she’d be back in a few minutes.
I tugged my wallet out of my pocket and flipped it open to get my card.
“What’s that?” Jenny asked tightly.
I glanced down to see the picture I’d carried for the better part of a decade.
Saying nothing, I passed over my wallet, the same one she bought me so many Christmases ago.
She looked at the picture of herself, one she’d probably never seen, and I wondered if she remembered the day I took it.
“Do you remember?” I asked, my voice gruff.
She nodded slowly, her finger touching the bottom of the picture. “This was the happiest day of my life.”
Her words hit me like a sledgehammer.
We’d been at the beach all day with her friends. She wore a black, one-piece swimsuit that covered every inch of skin from an inch below her collarbone to the tops of her thighs. And she was still the sexiest woman on the beach.
We went home and showered off the sand, then I made love to her in our bed.
After, we sat on our tiny back patio. She had her feet tucked in my lap and a soft, satisfied smile on her face.
I snapped the picture without thinking, never knowing it would become my greatest treasure, a touchstone to make it through the toughest of days.
It was a nothing special day, one of many we spent exactly so.
But it was perfect.
Throat tight, I replied roughly, “I was happy, too.”
Her face flushed, a red tide of fear and doubt rising to turn her away from me.
“We’re going to have so many happy days, baby. The best is coming. This,” I tapped the picture, “isn’t it. I promise.”