Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
It was late when Deacon pulled in behind West Restoration.
His meeting had run late. Usually he would have just stayed out of town another night, but it turned out, two days away from Alex was more than he could handle.
He’d called, told her he wouldn’t make dinner, but she’d promised to wait up for him.
The breathlessness to her voice when he spoke to her, that husky edge of hers, had near done him in.
That alone had driven him to get in his car, to drive straight over here, despite the hour.
He needed her. And he sure as hell wouldn’t leave her wanting.
Going away, especially after what happened with Emily, had not been ideal.
He’d wanted nothing more than to take Alex home and show her how much he cared, convince her to trust him, to forget their snide comments.
Hell, he’d needed it for himself—the doubt on her face, the hurt she’d tried to hide had nearly killed him.
Climbing out of his car, he walked around the side of the workshop, where he’d hidden his car, and looked over to his sisters’ cottage. The place was dark—both had turned in for the night. He glanced up and saw pale yellow light illuminated the front windows of Alex’s apartment. Thank God.
Being Alex’s landlord meant he had a key to her place, and he’d told her to lock up, that he’d let himself in. He took the external stairs to her front door and used his key.
“Alex?” He shut the door behind him and moved into the kitchen. No sign of her.
But when he moved into the small adjoining living room, he saw her.
On her side, hand tucked under her chin, asleep on the couch.
Jesus, he’d missed her more than he thought possible.
The more time they spent together, the more of herself she revealed, the deeper his already intense feelings became.
She was wearing nothing but a baggy Guns N’ Roses tank top that skimmed the tops of her thighs and looked unbelievably sexy.
Her smooth, bare legs were stretched out, toenails painted blue, and right then, he thought the cute silver toe ring she wore might be the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
The woman was temptation and innocence all at the same time.
She also looked utterly wiped out.
As badly as he wanted her, he didn’t have the heart to wake her. He knew firsthand what a restless sleeper she could be. What those dreams did to her, how they shook her.
She looked so peaceful. Cursing under his breath, he thrust his fingers through his hair. He could wait till tomorrow, right? One more night wouldn’t kill him.
Fuck.
Her scent, unique to Alex, spicy and alluring, filled the small apartment and hit him in the gut.
The roar of need increased along with the swirl of emotion only Alex had managed to evoke in him.
He needed to leave before he changed his mind and acted like the selfish bastard she already thought he was.
Walking to the kitchen as quietly as he could, he grabbed a pen and jotted down a note so she knew he hadn’t stood her up, then took the blanket off the back of the couch and placed it over her. He took one last long look at his sleeping beauty and let himself out.
Every step away from her felt heavy, wrong on every level, but he knew how hard they’d all been working. West Restoration had begun to make a name for itself, and he would never stand in the way of their success, despite what he’d told Alex.
When he reached the bottom step, his gaze moved to the workshop’s side door, and that old familiar pain lanced through his chest.
God, the way he’d felt going to his father that day, the pain that had sliced across his old man’s face when he’d told him what he’d seen.
Deacon had thought he was doing the right thing.
He’d been angry and hurt, and still in shock, after finding his mother with another man.
Jacob West had been heartbroken, humiliated.
His own son discovering what he hadn’t seen himself was too much for his pride to recover from.
His parents separated after that, and he and his father had begun to drift apart. Maybe his mother would have left on her own, eventually, maybe she wouldn’t. He’d opened his mouth, and because of that, his dad had lost the woman he loved and his sisters had grown up without their mother.
He’d blamed himself. As he’d gotten older, his relationship with his father had only gone from bad to worse.
But when he dropped the bomb that he was going to business school instead of working at the garage and one day taking it over—things had completely fallen apart.
They’d never recovered from it. Never made their peace, and now it was too late.
Before he realized what he was doing, he had the keys for Alex’s apartment in his hand.
Spare keys for the garage and the cottage were on the key ring as well, and he unlocked the door.
The place was pitch-black, but he knew every square foot; it was as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.
He went straight to the security system flashing beside the door and disengaged the alarm, then, shutting the door behind him, flicked on the overhead lights.
This place. The smell. The memories. He’d had some of the best times of his life in this workshop.
He’d also suffered some of the worst. The fight with his father that he’d been too damn stubborn to forget.
He’d held onto every angry word and let it fuel him, push him to succeed, to show his father how wrong he was, that he could make something of himself.
So much wasted time.
Shoving the keys in his pocket, he moved across the concrete floor to the back of the room.
There in the far corner, covered in canvas to keep off the dust, was his father’s 1965 Pontiac GTO.
Jacob had left it to him in his will, along with this building.
He wasn’t stupid enough to miss the significance.
It was an apology. His father’s way of saying, “I’m sorry.
” He’d left in Deacon’s hands the care and protection of those things most precious to him.
His beloved car and, more importantly, the welfare of his daughters and their maddening best friend.
It was too late to say he was sorry, but he’d make sure his sisters—and Alex—were taken care of.
The old bastard always did get the last word.
Gripping the heavy canvas, he dragged it back, revealing the old girl in all her glory.
The car was exquisite. Jacob had done it all himself, every inch painstakingly restored.
Giving this to Deacon was as good as an I love you, son.
I’m proud of you. Two things he’d been desperate to hear for such a long time.
They’d let their stupid pride keep them apart, and he was still struggling with the guilt six months later.
Which was why the car was still here and not in the parking garage under his apartment.
Running his hand over the sleek cherry-red paint, he smiled as memories flooded him. Him and his sisters, Alex.
All the kids piled in the thing, waiting to go for a spin. Jacob telling them to wash their hands. “No food or drink in my baby,” he always barked before they headed out.
The sound of someone coming down the stairs washed away the memory, and he turned in time to see Alex walking through the door.
She smiled when she saw him—it was hesitant, almost shy, and the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “I found your note.” She held it up and waved it around.
“So I see. How did you know I was still here?”
“I saw your car out my bedroom window.” She crossed her arms. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
He swallowed past the lump in his throat and fought to hold his ground, not to grab her then and there and show her just how much he’d missed her.
“You looked so peaceful. I didn’t have the heart.
” She moved out from behind the car that had been concealing the lower half of her body, and he nearly swallowed his tongue. “You, ah…you got the boots then?”
She nodded. “Yup. I woke up to find them on my doorstep the morning after you left. Poor Martin must have gotten up at the crack of dawn to get them to me unnoticed.”
She kept moving toward him. That Guns N’ Roses tank, now that she was standing, was still barely long enough to cover her panties.
And those boots, the ones he’d seen her drooling over, the ones he’d wanted to see her in and nothing else, looked amazing, like he knew they would.
His cock was hard as iron, straining against the zipper of his trousers. “Do you like them?”
She shook her head. “Nope.” Then a wicked grin tilted up one side of those lush lips. “I love them.”
The woman was capable of running circles around him, fucking owned him and didn’t even realize it.
“Stop,” he rasped. “Not another step.” Her brows shot up, but she did what he asked.
He spun his finger in a circle, silently asking her to turn around for him, and to his delight she complied without question. “Stunning.”
Her back was to him, but he didn’t miss her soft moan.
His little viper was as hot for him as he was for her. Unable to keep his hands off her another minute, he moved up behind her and rested his hands on the gentle flare of her hips. “I’ve been fantasizing about you in those boots ever since you picked them up.”
“You have?”
She sounded breathless, needy, and it cranked up his own need.
He was too far gone, had missed her too much to wait.
Gripping the hem of her tank, he lifted it over her head and tossed it on the roof of the car.
She sucked in a startled breath. “Oh, yes.” He coasted his fingers over bare skin, across her ribs, and up to her firm breasts.
A perfect handful. He massaged the soft mounds, pinching her nipples, tugging gently on her sensitive flesh.
“Deke…please,” she whispered.