Chapter Six Alexandra
As I made my way across the parking lot to my car, I couldn’t fight off the butterflies I felt in my stomach. I had never been apprehensive about doing a homebound job before. It didn’t take much to realize what it was about this job, or who it was, that made me anxious.
While I might’ve been looking forward to working with Willow, I was most definitely not looking forward to seeing her father again.
Sure, we had found some sort of middle ground a few days before, but David, or Deacon, didn’t impress me as the kind of man who stayed on an even keel.
Our first meeting had been both physically and emotionally volatile.
I could only imagine that it wouldn’t be long before we were coming to verbal blows again…
maybe even physical ones—at least on his end.
Once I got to my car, I turned the radio to an upbeat song and tried desperately to ignore the voices of doubt in my head.
Instead, I tried to focus on some of the visualization techniques my late mother had taught me.
My father had jokingly called my mother “Mary Sunshine” for her ability to see the positive in even the hardest of situations.
Instead of Deacon occupying my thoughts, I focused on Willow.
She needed me, so I had to be strong for her.
When I pulled up outside the pawnshop, a nervous shudder ricocheted through my body at the sight of Deacon waiting on me. Turning to Atticus who was riding shotgun, I said, “Are you ready for your first homebound lesson?”
At his happy yip, I laughed. After quickly turning off the car, I grabbed my bag. With my eyes firmly on Deacon, I fumbled with the door handle for a few seconds before I was able to throw it open. Holding it open, I called, “Come, Atticus.”
Once Atticus was out of the car, we started walking to Deacon. His gaze flicked from mine to Atticus. “You brought your dog?”
“Atticus is a therapy dog, so he accompanies me to school.” At Deacon’s frown, I replied, “I didn’t want to waste time by dropping him off at my house. However, if you would prefer I didn’t bring him, I’ll be a little later.”
“I suppose it’s fine.”
“If it makes any difference, Willow will be thrilled to see him. She really loved having him in class.”
Deacon grunted. “I’m aware of that.”
“You are?”
Jabbing a finger at Atticus, Deacon said, “He’s the reason why I got her a puppy.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Anyway, I’m glad to see you.”
“You are?” I questioned, unable to hide my surprise.
Was he implying what I thought he was? Was I going to have to set him straight that while flattered, we would only ever have a working relationship?
“Yeah, Willow’s been pestering the hell out of me all day about when you would get here.”
“Oh,” I murmured.
The shit-eating grin that stretched across Deacon’s face caused warmth to flood my cheeks. I stared down at the floor, silently willing it to open up and swallow me and my embarrassment.
Deacon’s finger on my chin caused me to jump. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me coming on to you, Miss Evans.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that,” I murmured.
“But don’t think it’s because of something decent within my character. You’re not my type.”
I sputtered with indignation at his words. “That’s good to hear since you’re most certainly not my type either.”
Deacon merely grinned. “You know Rev told me to tread easy when it came to you. He thinks you’re some delicate little flower I could crush. But he’s wrong.”
“Is that right?”
He nodded. “You’re a tough little thing when you have to be.”
“Life has done that to me,” I replied, before I could stop myself.
“Doesn’t it to everyone?”
The tone of his words surprised me. I realized that within his statement there was insight to Deacon’s own character. I couldn’t help wondering what life had done to him. But I had the feeling I would come closer to unearthing a buried treasure in my backyard than learning Deacon’s secrets.
“I appreciate you meeting me today.” I stared pointedly at him. “I hope I’m not taking you away from your job.”
“No, you’re not.”
“What is it that you do exactly?”
Motioning his hand to the pawn shop, Deacon’s lips curled in a smirk. “I would think my profession as an entrepreneur would be evident.”
“Yes, but it’s the type of businesses that you own that concerns me. After all, Ed Wigington, who owns the tire shop, doesn’t have to keep his son home from my class.”
“I co-own the pawn shop with my brothers along with Raiders Gym downtown.”
“That’s the one where boxers and MMA fighters train.”
“It is.”
From my Uncle Paul, I knew a hell of a lot more went on there than just training. Allegedly it was the legitimate front for gambling on fights. Deacon must’ve been reading my mind because he said, “No, Miss Evans, it’s not the type of place someone like you would frequent.”
“So you don’t deny the rumors that a lot of illegal stuff goes down there?”
With a teasing smile, he held up one hand. “I plead the fifth.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
“Would it be so surprising if I told you that most of the upstanding citizens of this town have tainted reputations?”
“I’m not concerned with anyone’s reputations other than yours at the moment and how that reputation affects Willow.”
Deacon surprised me by suddenly closing the gap between us. My breath fell in harsh pants as he loomed over me. I fought the urge to take a step back. He cocked his brows at me. “Are you insinuating that I’m involved in shady dealings?”
“Maybe.”
“I told you the other day not to stick your nose into my business.”
“I’m not.”
“Doesn’t seem like it to me.”
“I’m just concerned that’s all. Somehow I can’t get it out of my mind that you’re like a modern day Jesse James.”
Deacon’s dark eyes shone with amusement. “You think I’m an outlaw?”
Shaking my head, I countered, “Oh, I know you’re one.”
“Kinda makes you hot, doesn’t it?”
“Excuse me?” I demanded, taking a step back.
“Good girls always cream their panties over outlaws.”
“You flatter yourself. I’m certainly not…
” I gulped. “creaming my panties over you.” Of course, the words were a blatant lie.
The proximity of him, coupled with his words and his overpowering manly scent, caused moisture to dampen my panties.
When he continued to stare at me like the Big Bad Wolf apprising his next meal, I shook my head.
“I thought you said I didn’t have to worry about you coming on to me. Not your type, remember?”
With a wink, Deacon replied, “Maybe I lied. I’m not known for being very trustworthy when it comes to women.”
“Once again, that’s not surprising.”
“Although most of the girls down at the Lounge would give me glowing reviews.” He flashed me a grin. “That would be the gentleman’s club that my brothers and I own a stake in.”
Knowing that he expected a rise out of me at the mention of strippers, I merely replied, “Aren’t you the Donald Trump of Eastman?”
With a shake of his head, Deacon gave a bark of a laugh. “You know, I might actually be able to tolerate you, Miss Evans.”
“The feeling is mutual, Jesse James,” I replied.
He held open the clubhouse door for me. “Mmm, I love it when a chick gives me a nickname.”
Ignoring him, I headed inside. It momentarily felt like returning to the scene of the crime after our altercation from the other day. With the jukebox blaring a Heavy Metal tune in my ears, I surveyed the much smaller crowd.
“Are you planning on me teaching Willow here?” I asked, trying not to sound horrified. I couldn’t imagine trying to teach phonetics over the music and clanking of beer glasses.
Deacon laughed. “No, White-Bred, I’m not going to expect you to work in the middle of all this bullshit.”
“Thank you for being so considerate,” I replied tersely. I chose to ignore the fact he had once again called me white-bred.
“Actually, it was my mother’s idea. She thought it might be better if you guys had a place of your own to work. Some shit about making it seem more like real school, so she made us fix up one of the guest rooms.”
I bit back a smile at the words about his mother.
It was amusing thinking of any woman barking out orders and him scurrying around to obey her.
But I was sure if there was any woman who could bark orders at Deacon, Liz Malloy was that woman, and I admired the hell out of her for it. “That should be fine.”
Across the room from us, Willow sat at one of the round tables.
Swathed in a frilly pink boa, a glittering pink tiara sat on her head.
Seated with her were two young men in their late teens or early twenties who wore a similar cut like Deacon had.
The table was set for a tea party. What caused me to do a double take was the fact that the two men also sported boas and tiaras.
When they met my gaze, they both appeared to be in the seventh ring of hell.
Deacon chuckled at what must have been my bewildered expression. “They’re prospects for the club, so they have to do whatever we order them to do.”
“And today’s order of business was a tea party?”
With a shrug, Deacon replied, “Willow wanted one.”
Adjusting my bag on my shoulder, I eyed him. “And why aren’t you a part of the party?”
Smirking, Deacon replied, “While I might play princesses with Willow at home, there’s no way in hell I would do it in front of my men.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “You play princesses?”
Deacon flashed me a cocky grin. “I prefer the blue crown and boa because it brings out my eyes.”
A laugh burst from my lips. “Is that right?”
“It is.”
Glancing from him to the prospects, I said, “Let me guess. If you wore it in front of everyone, it would ruin your outlaw reputation.”
“Precisely.”
At that moment, Willow bounded over to us. “Miss Alex!” she squealed, before throwing her arms around my waist. Mine and Deacon’s conversation was forgotten with Willow’s enthusiastic greeting.
“Hi sweetheart. How are you?” I asked, as I squeezed her back.
“Good. I’ve been waiting all day to see you. I finished all the work you left me.”
“You did?” I asked with surprise. While some of the worksheets were review activities of what we had been doing, I’d never expected her to finish so fast.
“Uh-huh. I’ll go get them.”
As Willow sprinted away, Deacon chuckled “You bring out the fucking chatterbox in her.”
“If you stepped inside my classroom, you’d say I brought it out in all kids since they never seem to stop talking,” I joked.
The amusement slipped from Deacon’s expression. “I wish she talked to me like that.”
A pang reverberated through my chest at both his words and the longing in his eyes. “Doesn’t she talk to you?”
“She does. But not as much as my mother. Or to you.”
“Maybe it’s because she’s missing her mother and searching for a mother figure.”
“Maybe.” Deacon’s expression darkened. “Her shrink seems to think it’s because she can’t trust men because of issues in her past.”
An ache burned through my chest at the thoughts of Willow being hurt. “Do they think the abuse was emotionally or…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish that sentence.
“Both,” he gritted out. As his fists clenched at his sides, he replied, “The only saving grace is there wasn’t anything sexual.”
“Thank God for small mercies.”
After absently scratching the back of his neck, he cocked his brow at me. “What can I do to get her to talk to me more?” At what must’ve been my questioning expression, Deacon grunted. “And yes, I play games and shit with her like the shrink suggested.”
“When you’re playing games with her, are you completely and totally there with her in the moment?”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Deacon demanded.
“Are you distracted, or are you focused on her?”
“You have no idea what all I’ve got on my plate right now.”
“While I can understand that, Willow can’t. You have to give her your undivided attention.”
Deacon appeared to be weighing my words. “Fine. I can do that.”
“Besides games, you can color with her.” At his skeptical expression, I replied, “Art is very therapeutic. If you want to know more about her life before she came to you, then get her to draw it.”
“I’m not sure I want to know about that,” he gritted out.
“That’s understandable. So maybe just stick to asking her to draw happy things.”
Scratching the stubble on his chin, Deacon replied, “I can do that.”
I smiled. “Even if she doesn’t talk to you, she’s a very good listener.”
“What the hell would a man like me talk about with her?” he demanded, as he swept his hands to his hips.
His usual scowl was back, and he looked at me like I had asked him to solve a difficult equation, rather than something as simple as talking to his daughter.
“Tell her about when you were her age.”
Sneering, he replied, “Those aren’t happy little stories to share, Miss Evans. I wouldn’t want to give her nightmares.”
The intensity of his stare, along with the tormented look in his eyes, caused me to look away. “I’m sure if you just sit down and try, the right words will come to you,” I said softly.
At the sight of Willow, he grumbled, “We’ll see.”
As I watched his retreating form I couldn’t help but wonder about all the demons he held within him. Willow interrupted my thoughts by skipping up to me with a handful of papers.
“Are you ready to see our classroom?” she asked.
“I’d love to.”
With a squeal, she grabbed my hand and then dragged me across the room. We reached a long hallway that was filled with doors on both the right and left sides. When we got to the fourth on the right, she flung it open. “What do you think?”
I gazed around the room. There were two old desks in the middle—one larger one for me and a smaller one for Willow.
I don’t know how he had managed it, but Deacon had set up a white board on an easel.
There was even a multicolored rug on the floor for story time.
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “It’s wonderful.
Your daddy did a great job setting it up. ”
As Willow beamed at my praise, I motioned to her desk. “Now, I think it’s time we got to work.”