6. Charlie
Chapter 6
Charlie
A warm glow emanated from the windows of my tiny cabin as Deacon pulled up next to my car. We’d spent about an hour at his place, letting the smoke clear out and the hearth cool down before heading back. Most of the time was spent in silence. He’d made me a cup of peppermint tea and honey to sip on as we sat on his leather sofa and watched Casper explore the space.
It was awkward at first. I didn’t know what to say or how to act. Growing up there had rarely been silence in our home, even though it was just my parents and me. Even when it was just Casper and I in our various homes, I was always talking to him, and he was always meowing or chirping back to me.
After a few minutes though, I started to enjoy just sitting with Deacon. There was something comforting about his presence. Or maybe it was the fact that I couldn’t stop the tingling sensation in my arm from where he’d grasped it, preventing me from walking out his front door.
There had been such earnestness in his eyes. A pleading that struck me right to my core and I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. He was such an enigma.
One second it felt like he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough and the next he was urging me to stay.
I felt it in my heart. That something had happened the day of the fire. There was some piece I was missing. I wanted to ask him. To get to the bottom of why he was so hot and cold with me.
But the thought of scaring him off with the question stopped me. As badly as I wanted to know, I couldn’t risk pushing him away. Not now that I felt myself wanting to get closer to him.
Cold air hit my face when he opened his truck door. I watched as he moved swiftly in front of the hood, coming around to my side. Casper stirred in my arms when Deacon opened my door.
“Thank you,” I said, slipping out of the seat.
He gave me a curt nod in response.
Despite the air appearing clear when we walked into the cabin, the smell of smoke still clung to the space.
“It’s not as strong as before, but it still smells smokey. I’m going to put my bedding in the laundry while you work on the fireplace.”
“Okay.”
Casper darted into the kitchen where his automatic feeder was and started feasting while I stripped my bed bare and tossed everything into the washing machine.
Aware of every movement Deacon made, I watched him from the corner of my eye lay down in front of the hearth and scoot himself closer so he could get a good look at what had caused the mess.
I moved to the sofa and asked, “Do you need a flashlight?”
He was silent for a moment, a vein in his neck bulging with the effort of twisting and turning to see up the chimney. When my eyes trailed down the length of his body, I realized just how large he was. His thighs pressed firmly against the fabric of his jeans, and I wondered what it would feel like to have that kind of power beneath me as I straddled his lap. What it might feel like to be beneath him as he rocked his hips against me.
Was he a gentle lover? Or was he the kind of man who rode hard?
“Charlie, are you okay?” I heard him ask.
My gaze snapped to his face that was shadowed from the hearth. I realized then that my breaths had quickened. I was practically panting over the man, and he’d caught me gawking at him.
“Yup!” I squeaked. “Perfectly fine.”
Rising from the sofa, I decided I needed to get some space before I made a total fool out of myself. I went into the kitchen and washed out Casper’s water bowl before refilling it again.
“It looks like part of a bird’s nest fell through the chimney and got stuck about halfway down. I need to grab a tool from my truck. I’ll be right back.”
Not trusting myself to speak, I simply nodded and went back to filling up Casper’s water container.
When the front door was shut and Deacon was out of earshot, I knelt beside Casper and said, “I think I’m in deep trouble with this one, buddy.” He looked up at me before leaning hard against my kneecap. “Do you think he’s one of the good ones?”
When he let out a loud purr, I wasn’t sure if he was telling me yes or trying to ward me away, but I selfishly took it as confirmation that Deacon might have a prickly personality, but that his friend, Sarah, was right. Behind his hard exterior, he was a soft teddy bear on the inside.
Deacon came back through the door with what appeared to be a collapsible grab-stick. Not having a clue what it did, I stayed silent but made my way back to the small living space.
“Let me know if you need any help.”
A small smile pulled at the corners of his lips before he laid on his back and started stretching the stick upward, latching the small pieces together the further up it went. Deacon’s large hand grasped the edge of the hearth as he hoisted himself further into the space.
I swallowed when my mind wandered to what those hands might be capable of doing.
My thoughts were cut short when a scraping sound rustled in the chimney right before a giant pile of sticks and ash came tumbling down, covering Deacon’s face in soot. Eyes squeezed shut, he lurched forward and started coughing wildly.
I hurried to his side. “Oh my gosh! Are you okay?”
He coughed one more time before leaning himself against the hearth. When he looked at me, his bright green eyes seemed even more vivid against the charcoal soot that covered his entire face.
When he scowled, I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of me. When his frown deepened, I laughed harder.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed between laughs. “You should see your face right now. It’s completely covered in ash.”
He raised his palm and before I could say no, he ran his hand over his face, smearing the soot even more. “You’ve only made it worse,” I laughed again and when his eyes settled on me, I saw the frustration rising which only made my giggle fit worsen.
It was the most ridiculous sight I’d ever seen. The way his eyes gleamed pine green against the gray color of the ash made it look like he was a wild animal in the forest peering through the night. Raising his hands, he looked at them with annoyance then grunted in defeat before leaning his head back to rest on the stone hearth.
Eyes closed, he murmured, “Well, I think we’ve found the problem with the chimney.”
I looked to the open fireplace where the bundle of sticks, a thread of twine and some moss laid disassembled. Then I turned back to Deacon. “Thank you for helping me with it.” I bit my bottom lip to refrain from laughing again.
“Stay here, I’m going to get you a washcloth.” Deacon didn’t move as I went to the bathroom and wetted a washcloth.
When I went back to his side, Casper had become curious of all the commotion and was gingerly exploring the open hearth and broken bird’s nest. I lowered to the floor and Deacon reached for the washcloth. I pulled my hand back so he couldn’t reach it. “Let me.”
Something shifted in his gaze like he was hesitant to allow me to help. For a moment I thought he was going to protest, but then he shifted his large frame, so his back was more straight against the stone, giving me better access to his face and neck.
My thigh rested against his as I scooted closer. Swallowing the dryness in my throat, I reached forward with the wet cloth and wiped the ash from his forehead. Deacon sucked in a sharp breath, and I yanked my hand back.
“Are you okay?” I assessed his face for any injury of where the sticks might have struck him, but didn’t see any signs.
Those beautiful eyes grew wide for a moment, darting back and forth between mine. So many unspoken words were written in his expression. Part of me wanted to coax him to tell me something…anything. Questions of my own clanged around in my mind, but my lips stayed shut.
Neither one of us looked away as the silence between us grew. The tension was nearly unbearable when I felt the warmth of Deacon’s calloused hand wrap around mine as he brought my hand and the cloth I still held to his temple.
“Keep going.” His gruff voice sent a cascade of goosebumps over my skin. My arm hung in midair while I looked at him. This giant man sprawled on my living room floor had come back into my life for a reason it seemed.
My mom had always taught me to believe in divine signs. That if I followed my heart, fate would place me right where I was meant to be. As I took in the sight of Deacon’s handsome face with inky lashes fanning over his eyes, a chiseled jawline and dark brows I felt a line go taut between us. It was the same tether that I clung to all those years ago.
The one that kept me alive.
Maybe most would chalk it up to coincidence. It wasn’t like North Carolina was far away from Georgia. The likelihood that we might end up in the same place was a fairly comprehensible thought.
But there was something more at play here. I could feel it as he shifted slightly when I finally settled the cloth on the side of his face and swiped downward, revealing more of his tan skin.
We couldn’t keep existing like this. Acting as passing ships in the night. Noticing one another without truly saying hello.
It…bothered me.
“Are we going to talk about it?” I asked hesitantly.
His gaze flickered like he knew exactly what I was getting at. “What is there to talk about?”
I half-laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. Just the fact that you saved my life seven years ago and when I showed up on your front porch you slammed the door in my face.”
He grimaced and shifted his face away from me. Feeling brave, I slid the cloth under his chin and gently directed him to look back at me. “You don’t think it’s crazy that we both ended up in this tiny town an entire state away from where we first met?”
His deep inhale told me he was growing wary of my questions. “What I think is crazy is that you are attributing us being in the same small town as some sign that means more than it does.” Those green eyes darkened to a shade of glistening emerald. “I moved out here to be alone. To be away from…people. Just because we met once doesn’t mean there is more to the picture. There can’t be more to the picture.”
I hated that tears sprung to the back of my eyes. Honestly, I wasn’t sure why they were there. Deacon spoke the truth. We were just two people who happened to have met in a tragic way who wound up in the same town. It didn’t mean that fate played any part of it. No matter how much my heart yearned for it to be true.
But the seed of doubt he planted in my mind wasn’t as strong as the pull I had toward him.
“You say there can’t be more to it, but if that were true then you wouldn’t react to me the way you have been. Or are you a grumpy asshole with everyone?”
It wasn’t like me to curse at someone. My parents had raised me to be a lady with manners. But Deacon Calhoun got under my skin, and I wanted answers to his vague statements.
His bushy brows rose toward his hairline and my chest lightened at the sight of his half soot covered face in shock.
“I’m not an asshole,” he stated defensively.
I just blinked at him.
His shoulders deflated. “Fine. Maybe I’m not the nicest person you’ve come across. But like I said, I chose this place to be away from people for a reason.”
“And the reason is?” I cocked my head to the side. He wasn’t going to get off that easily.
His lips popped open. “I…” He closed his mouth, and his nostrils flared with frustration.
I sat next to him in silence, waiting for his walls to come down and show me some semblance of the man who rescued me. The one with kind eyes, a tender touch with the need to protect.
A shadow passed over his face as he shifted his gaze downward. “I just need you to trust that I’m not the guy you might think I am. So, whatever you’re trying to do, you just need to stop. It won’t end well for you.”
My heart cracked from his words, the room around us tilting slightly as what he said sunk in. And it was all ridiculous. I was ridiculous for thinking he felt the same way I did–a blossoming curiosity to know him.
It was probably just a trauma reaction in thinking that the thread between us that had kept me alive was more than just a fleeting moment in time. His rejection stung, more than I cared to admit. But I wasn’t going to let it ruin my experience here. I couldn’t.
I sucked in a deep breath. “You’re right. I think I let the loneliness of being away from my home get the best of me.” The emptiness of my words clanged around my mind, but he wasn’t giving an inch, so neither could I.
Letting the washcloth fall from my hand, I reached across us and offered a handshake. “Friends, then?”
His eyes lingered on my face for a moment before they dipped to my lips.
Okayyyy. Maybe I wasn’t crazy in thinking there was something between us. His mixed signals were giving me whiplash. But he’d made himself clear. He didn’t want me to push the subject, so I kept my thoughts to myself.
“Friends,” he grumbled before taking my hand in his and shaking it.
Hours after he’d helped me clean up the hearth and replace the old logs with new ones, I found myself lying in bed unable to stop thinking about the feeling of his palm pressed against mine.
I started to realize that it didn’t matter if Deacon returned my feelings. I was already in too deep and, just like he’d said,I knew this wasn’t going to end well for me.