Deacon wasn’t in the habit of getting tied up in knots over a woman, but there was no denying that he was all twisted up over the new ADA.
There were plenty of women in Haven, so why did he keep going back to the one who was always brushing him off?
And why did she keep brushing him off?
He’d considered the possibility that she had a boyfriend back in Vegas and discarded it for two reasons: one, he was certain that she would have told him if she did; and two, she’d mentioned that he reminded her of an ex-boyfriend. Which forced him to consider the possibility that she honestly wasn’t interested, though he didn’t want to believe that could be true. Because it didn’t seem fair that he could be so tangled up while she was completely unaffected.
So when Ben had mentioned, at their morning pickup game, that a bunch of guys were getting together to enjoy some wings and watch the game at Diggers’ that night, Deacon immediately agreed to join them.
A Saturday night with the guys was just what he needed to get his mind off a certain sexy brunette with dark eyes and kissable lips. And if the opportunity arose to flirt with other pretty girls, well, that would be even better.
Puck drop was scheduled for eight o’clock, but he pulled into the parking lot behind Diggers’ at seven forty-five, giving him just enough time to stop by the reception desk at The Stagecoach Inn and chat with Mariah for a few minutes before heading over to the bar.
“Hey, stranger.” Mariah greeted him with a warm smile. “What brings you around here on a Saturday night?”
He held up a silver hoop earring.
She laughed. “Ohmygod—I was starting to think it was lost forever.”
“Me, too,” he admitted.
The earrings had been a gift from her grandmother—their value more sentimental than monetary, but Deacon and Mariah had combed every inch of his bedroom when she realized she’d lost it, to no avail.
“Where did you find it?” she asked.
“Lodged under the corner of the cabinet in the bathroom.”
She smiled again. “We had some good times in there, too, didn’t we?”
“We did,” he agreed.
“Well, I’m glad to have this back.” She tucked the silver hoop into the pocket of her jacket. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
It struck him suddenly that the whole interaction between them was civil and bland, proving that whatever chemistry had once drawn them together had fizzled out long ago.
“I’m seeing someone.”
The way she blurted out the information made Deacon realize that she thought he was lingering, perhaps in the hope of picking up where they’d left off.
The truth was, he’d been about to say “see you around” and head over to the bar when Sierra walked into the lobby of the hotel.
With a man.
“It’s been a few months now,” Mariah elaborated, when he failed to respond.
“That’s great,” he said, his attention focused on the ADA and her companion.
Were they headed to the desk to check in?
Or did her companion already have a room key in his pocket?
They turned toward the hotel restaurant, and he exhaled a sigh of relief.
They were here for dinner, not a hookup.
But who knew what might happen after a romantic meal and a couple glasses of wine?
Deacon certainly didn’t—and he didn’t want to speculate.
The coat check was located outside of the dining room, and he watched as Sierra’s date helped her remove her coat before handing it to the attendant. She wore a lot of suits in court—pants and matching jackets or sometimes skirts and jackets—but Deacon had never before seen her in a dress before and...wow!
The dress was a wrap style with long sleeves, a short skirt and a deep V neckline. The color was somewhere between gold and brown (maybe bronze?) and the fabric hugged her curves in a way that he’d only dreamed of doing.
There was a comfortable familiarity between her and her date that suggested affection more than attraction. A theory that was given further credence when she hugged the man and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head before they disappeared into the restaurant together.
Old friends, perhaps?
Or was that just wishful thinking on his part?
He vaguely registered the sound of Mariah’s voice and realized she was still talking about the new guy she was seeing, about how great he was, how happy they were together.
“Then I’m happy for you, too,” he said.
The vibration of the phone in his pocket finally dragged his attention away from the door through which Sierra had disappeared. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
Wings R on the table.
That was followed, almost immediately, by another message:
FN Penguins just scored!
He quickly tapped out a reply:
Be there in 2 min.
“It was great to see you, Mariah, but I have to run,” he said, lifting a hand in a wave as he headed toward the exit.
He was no longer in a sociable mood, but he took solace in the fact that he could bang his fist on the table and his buddies would think he was reacting to the game.
Sierra said goodbye to her brother Sunday morning and stood at the front window to watch him drive away. His SUV had barely disappeared from sight when another vehicle pulled into the recently vacated spot on her driveway.
She immediately recognized Deacon’s truck from his visit the previous weekend.
“This is getting to be a habit,” she said, when she responded to his knock on the door.
“Can I come in?”
“You seem to be empty-handed.”
“Should I go to Sweet Caroline’s and come back?”
“No,” she said, stepping away from the door so that he could enter. “I’ve got a cup of tea in the kitchen already.”
“Any chance you’ve got coffee?” he asked.
“Decaf.”
He made a face as he pulled his boots off and left them by the door.
“Is that a no on the coffee?”
“That’s a no,” he confirmed.
“Hot chocolate?”
That seemed to pique his interest. “What kind?”
“The kind that comes in a little pod labeled Hot Chocolate.”
“Well, it can’t be worse than decaf coffee,” he decided.
She popped a pod into the machine and positioned a mug beneath the spout. When the hot chocolate was ready, she set the drink on the island in front of him.
“Now are you going to tell me why you’re here?”
“I was at Diggers’ last night with some friends—one of whom is the drummer for the Cowboy Poets.”
“Who?”
He frowned. “You really haven’t heard of them?”
She shook her head.
“Well, they’re a pretty big deal around here, and tickets to their shows can be hard to come by, but Gavin hooked me up with a pair of tickets for their show Tuesday night.
“It’s at The Vicar’s Vice in Battle Mountain, and I thought you might want to go with me. I know having a first date on Valentine’s Day puts a lot of pressure on the date, but I promise it will be a good show.”
He was asking her to go out with him. On Valentine’s Day.
Her fickle heart fluttered.
She ignored it.
“I appreciate the invitation, but I’m going to have to decline.”
“You already have plans for Valentine’s Day?”
“No,” she admitted. “And I don’t want any, to be honest.”
“How about Friday night, then?” he suggested as an alternative. “Maybe dinner and a movie?”
Another flutter.
“No, thank you,” she said, polite but firm.
He studied her over the rim as he lifted his mug to his lips. “Is your answer going to be the same if I suggest another activity on another day?”
“It is,” she confirmed.
“Because of the guy you were with at The Home Station last night?”
She was startled by the question. “Because I’m not in a place right now to consider any kind of romantic involvement,” she told him. “And, FYI, the guy I was with last night was my brother, who hasn’t had any say about who I date since I went away to college.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“Probably because we don’t really know anything about the other.”
He smiled. “A problem that could be easily remedied if you’d only agree to go out with me.”
Damn, he really was sexy and charming—and far too tempting.
Which was why she needed to shut him down right now, before he proved to be a greater temptation than she could resist.
“Except that I don’t see it as a problem,” she said.
He finished his hot chocolate and carried the empty mug to the sink. “I’ll get out of your way, then.”
She had to bite her tongue to hold back the urge to apologize as she walked him to the door.
Because she was sorry that she’d had to say no when she really wanted to say yes.
Sierra had gotten in the habit of stopping at The Daily Grind on her way to the office in the mornings. Now that her stomach was no longer rebelling against the scent of coffee, she opted for the local café over the bakery because she was less tempted by the muffins and donuts in their display case than she was by the decadent offerings at Sweet Caroline’s.
It was also closer to the courthouse, and that proximity meant it wasn’t unusual for Sierra to see familiar faces there—another lawyer or a judge’s secretary or an administrative assistant and, several times, Deacon. So she wasn’t surprised to see that he was ahead of her in line when she entered the coffee shop Wednesday morning but, unlike the other times their paths had crossed, today he wasn’t alone.
The woman he was with had blond hair cut in long layers that framed a heart-shaped face with porcelain skin, sharp cheekbones, a slightly pointed chin, green-gray eyes with dark lashes and a Cupid’s bow mouth slicked with pink gloss. She was absolutely stunning, and though Sierra felt a stir of something in her gut that might have been envy, she couldn’t deny that they made a gorgeous couple.
Deacon lowered his head to say something to his companion, and she tipped her head back against his shoulder and smiled up at him.
There was an easy affection between them that told Sierra they were close—two people who’d shared more than a single night together. And while she knew it shouldn’t bother her—no doubt he had history with a lot of women in this town—it annoyed her to realize that after she’d turned down his invitation to go out on Valentine’s Day, he’d immediately penciled another name into his calendar.
A completely irrational response, she acknowledged.
She’d told him she wasn’t interested, and he’d taken her at her word. She should be relieved—even happy—that he’d found someone else to smile at, flirt with and deliver boxes of pastries to. Instead, she felt...annoyed. (She settled on that word again because she was unwilling to admit that her feelings might be a little deeper and a little more complicated than that.)
He ordered an extra-large coffee, black; the blonde asked for a decaffeinated, non-fat, sugar-free vanilla latte.
Deacon passed some money across the counter, then dropped his change into the tip jar, and they moved down the line to wait for their drinks to be prepared.
The next customer—a brunette with a ponytail and a weary smile—ordered two extra-large coffees, one black, one with double cream and sugar.
“How’s MG doing?” the woman behind the counter asked cautiously, as she punched in the order.
“He has good days and bad—though more bad than good, it seems these days.”
“It’s gotta be tough for him, to be laid up. And for you, too, Paige.”
The brunette—Paige—nodded and offered her debit card for payment.
The other woman waved it away. “This one’s on me.”
“Thanks, Felicia.” Paige managed a wobbly smile as she moved down the line.
The two women behind Sierra, obviously having heard the same exchange, started whispering to one another. And though she wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, Sierra managed to put together enough pieces to figure out that there had been some kind of accident at the ranch (which ranch? she had no idea, except that it was apparently MG’s ranch) and that he was lucky to be alive.
“Cranberry apple tea, black,” Sierra said, when it was her turn to order.
She paid for her drink and followed Paige to the other end of the counter just as Deacon and his companion got their drinks.
The blonde picked up her to-go cup and kissed his cheek. “Thanks again for last night.”
His smile was warm and sincere. “Anytime.”
It was only when his companion had gone—and Paige was getting her drinks—that he seemed to realize Sierra was standing there, waiting for her beverage.
“Good morning,” he said.
She echoed his greeting coolly.
“Are you in court today?” Deacon asked.
“Not until this afternoon.”
“Can we sit for a few minutes, then?”
Sierra murmured her thanks to the barista as she accepted her tea before turning her attention back to Deacon. “Was there something in particular you wanted to discuss?”
“No,” he admitted. “I just thought it would be nice to have some company with my coffee instead of gulping it down on the run like I do most mornings. And a muffin,” he decided. “Do you want a muffin?”
“No, thank you.”
He went back to the counter, returning a minute later with a banana nut muffin on a plate.
“I didn’t hear you offer to buy your...friend...a muffin,” she noted.
“My friend?” he echoed, uncomprehending.
“The blonde whose lip gloss you’re currently wearing.”
“Oh.” His lips curved as he rubbed a hand over his cheek. “Regan doesn’t eat breakfast. And she’s a lot more than a friend.”
“Yeah, I got that impression,” she acknowledged.
He eyed her speculatively. “Why are you mad at me?”
“I’m not,” she denied.
“You sure sound mad,” he noted. “And your tone is chillier than the weather this morning.”
“I’m mad at myself.”
“Because...” he prompted, tearing off a piece of muffin.
“Because I was actually starting to think that you were a decent guy.”
“And now, because I didn’t offer to buy Regan a muffin, you think I’m not?”
“And because, only three days ago, you invited me to go see the Poet Cowboys with you.”
“Cowboy Poets,” he corrected automatically. “And you turned me down.”
“You’re right,” she acknowledged.
“And you think that I took Regan to the show,” he realized.
“Or maybe you skipped the show,” she allowed.
“But spent the night together.”
“She thanked you for last night.”
“You could have been the one thanking me for last night,” he pointed out, a spark of what she was certain was amusement dancing in his eyes. “After all, I did ask you first.”
“I told you that I wasn’t looking for any romantic entanglements and I meant it.”
He shrugged. “I’m not averse to skipping the romance and going straight to the sex, if that’s your preference.”
“Wouldn’t I have to take a number—like at the deli counter in the grocery store?”
“Not necessary,” he said. “We both seem to have a couple hours free right now.”
“A not-at-all-tempting offer,” she told him.
“I think you are tempted,” he said. “And that’s the real reason that you’re annoyed.”
He wasn’t just arrogant—he was right.
She wasn’t looking to get involved, and certainly not with another man who clearly had no understanding of loyalty or fidelity, and still there was something about Deacon that stirred her up.
Or maybe it was simply an overabundance of hormones running rampant through her system that was responsible for the inexplicable feelings churning in her blood.
“I’m on a dating hiatus,” she reminded him.
“So you said,” he acknowledged. “But seven months seems like an excessive amount of time to get over a not-so-recent breakup that supposedly only bruised your heart.”
“It’s closer to six months now.”
His brows lifted. “The fact that you’re counting suggests that you agree it’s an excessive amount of time.”
“Speaking of time,” she said, desperate to change the topic before she gave anything else away, “I really do need to get to the office.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to finish this conversation another time,” he said.
She nodded, grateful for the reprieve and eager to escape.
Because despite her growing attraction to Deacon Parrish, she knew that nothing could ever come of it. For the next six and a half months, her focus needed to be on taking care of the baby in her womb.
And the absolute last thing she needed was to give her heart to another man who was likely to break it.