Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Deacon
As my arms wheeled and I fell like a skater dropping into a half pipe, I saw the front-page headlines flash before my eyes: “Deacon Harrow. Dead at 27. Eaten by Crocodiles.”
What a way to go. I saw the in memoriams now. Mostly remembered for roles I didn’t really care about and a career I’d just fallen into instead of the music of my soul . . .
That thought swiftly tumbled away as Dove launched forward and caught me by the wrist as my designer loafers scratched down the concrete bowl and splashed into the swampy water below.
She landed roughly on her stomach, eliciting a groan of pain, and I wondered if she might've bruised a rib on the hard lip of the croc moat. But despite the hard fall, she didn't let go of my hand.
“Hang on,” she gritted out, face turning bright red as all the blood rushed to her head.
There were many times in my life when being 6’3” had been a curse: flying on airplanes, walking under low ceiling fans, and now, apparently, dangling above crocodile-infested water. I lifted my feet up wildly, scrambling up the slippery side but getting no traction.
“They're going to bite my legs off, aren't they?” I asked, voice frantic and pathetic as I looked up at Dove. Way to be the suave action hero, Deacon. “They're going to drown me in this disgusting water. I’ve seen Crocodile Hunter . I know what death rolls are. They’re going to death roll me, aren’t they— why are you laughing at me?”
I looked up to Dove's shoulders bobbing up and down, a wide smile on her pitying face even as she strained to hold me aloft. “There’s a fence in the reeds,” she explained, biting her lips together to keep from laughing more. “They can't get to you from here.”
I twisted my neck around and spied the carefully hidden wrought-iron poles placed at varying heights an inch apart through the swamp grasses.
“Oh, thank all the sweet, sweet crocodilian gods,” I said.
“I told you I wouldn’t put you in harm’s way,” Dove chided.
“I thought you meant I was safe with you, not from the crocodiles,” I replied tightly, straining to hang on. I needed to tell Ricardo to add more rock climbing into my workout regimen. My fingers were killing me. “But I appreciate the clarification now that I just squealed at you like a scared little piglet.”
“Come on, even piglets aren’t that shrill,” Dove countered with a laugh. Oh, she was never going to let me live this down, was she? Clearly smug with my current predicament, Dove gave my wrist a tug. “I still don't want you getting some crazy bacterial infection from that water, though, so let's get you up, okay?”
“Okay,” I said with a deep breath. “Did the fall at least look cool? Like a Legolas slide down the wall and a daring grab for the ledge?”
“You looked nothing like Legolas, unfortunately,” she said. Her glasses slid down her nose until she was looking at me over them. “Well . . . maybe Legolas our teenage baboon, but I don’t think that’s what you were going for.”
“Dammit!”
With a laugh, Dove reached down with her other hand and took my free one. I climbed my wobbling loafers up the side and used my leverage to barrel roll over the edge . . . and land directly on top of Dove. My body fused with hers, my hips nestled against her, and fuck, I tried really hard not to think about all the places we joined. Crocodiles long forgotten, all I could think about was how electrifying it felt to have her under me, her head bracketed by my arms, her full lips parted in surprise.
I stared down at her mud-speckled face. “Thank you for saving me,” I murmured, my chest rising and falling in panting breaths as the adrenaline started to leave my system.
“I told you I'd keep you safe with me,” she whispered.
I clenched my jaw with restraint, wanting so badly to kiss her for saying that.
The truth was, Dove Lachlan had always made me feel safe, not just from physical harm but safe to let my guard down, to be vulnerable, to be the scariest, most honest version of myself.
“You know,” I said with a laugh, my chest rising and falling against hers. “I’m always playing the emotionally distant hero, but in real life, it’s you who gets all the great heroic one-liners.”
Dove beamed up at me, the warmth in her eyes so beautiful and rare that I wanted to bottle it up and hold onto it forever. For one crazy second, I lowered my head to kiss her, but when Dove winced, I remembered the way she'd come crashing down on the concrete.
“You're hurt.”
I scrambled off her and pulled her to a stand. “I'm fine,” she said, rubbing her side. “It’s just a little bruise. No big deal.”
I frantically lifted the hem of her shirt, and she laughed as she shoved it down. “Deacon, really, I’m fine.”
“Just let me see.” I tugged on her shirt again, and Dove released the hem with a roll of her eyes.
She held her arms out to the sides. “Are you a doctor now?”
“No, but I’ve played one before,” I teased, lifting her shirt another inch and exposing a strip of bare skin. “May I?”
“Be my guest.”
Careful so as not to touch her injured side, I revealed the soft curves of her torso and the lower band of her sport bra. A red-and-blue bruise bloomed just above her navel, spreading all the way up to the band on her bra. “Damn.”
“It's fine,” she assured me. “I'll just go ice it after I close up for the day.”
“You should go ice it now,” I instructed.
“I don’t take advice from TV doctors.”
“Touché.” I huffed as I studied the purpling wound. “Thank you for heroically saving me from what I thought was near death but was actually just a potential staph infection.”
Without thinking, I leaned in and kissed her bruise. You really need to stop kissing her bare skin! But I couldn’t help myself. Not when it came to Dove. Her skin pebbled with goose bumps in the wake of my lips as I lowered her shirt back down.
“You're, uh, welcome,” she said rather breathlessly.
The way she looked up into my eyes, the way she held my gaze, I could've sworn she wanted me to kiss her. But maybe I was projecting. Maybe all of this was in my head. She'd said she loathed me only a few weeks ago after all. I couldn't just kiss her. But she wasn't moving, her gaze oscillating between my eyes and my lips that had just kissed her soft, warm skin . . .
Before I could move, her radio scratched to life.
Heron's voice sounded. “Savannah to birds, I just finished up at the giraffes. Do you need any help down at the crocs?”
Dove picked up her radio. “Nah, we’re all good. We're just leaving now.”
Both Heron and Mom immediately answered her. “Who's we ?”
Dove grimaced before replying, “Sorry, just me and my empty buckets. Leaving now.”
“Roger,” Heron replied in a suspicious voice.
Dove looked at me and pointed uphill. “You're going to have to go that way and cut through the Peckish Peacock so they don't catch us together on the cameras,” she ordered.
“Ah yes, I’m well versed in evading cameras.” I nodded sagely as Dove laughed.
I was about to step through the gate when she added, “Oh, um, I was going to ask—” and hope bloomed in my chest again.
“Yeah?”
“I was thinking I could get a photo of you with our shingleback skinks tomorrow.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I could use it for my WAZA proposal for the new Almadran skink breeding program. And you could give it to Cody if he wanted to use it for anything?”
The offer showed how far the two of us had come in only a matter of weeks. I wondered if all of these little tasks and chores she was asking for my help with were because she actually needed my help or because she just wanted an excuse to spend more time together. I hoped the latter. Still, a photoshoot wasn't the offer I’d been hoping for. What am I hoping for? I didn't dare say even to myself.
“That's a great idea, director,” I said, giving her a salute as I wandered off uphill, avoiding the cameras, before any disappointment showed on my face.