Charming Fiona

by Jessica Prince

  “I missed you.” Her voice was like gravel, emotion making her words thick.

  Hearing that was a solid punch to the gut, leaving me breathless. “Missed you too, baby,” I replied, my words rough and jagged. “I’m so goddamn sorry.”

  She pulled back quickly, taking my face in her hands as she scowled up at me. “Never do that again. Ever. If we fight, we go to bed together. Even if we’re on separate sides and not talking, I don’t care.”

  Wrapping my fingers around her wrists, I removed her hands from my cheeks and leaned in closer. “Never again. I swear. I’ve been fucking miserable without you.”

  Her eyes grew glassy and bright with unshed tears. “Me too.”

  “Now kiss me.”

  She might have been the one to initiate the kiss, but the instant her lips touched mine I took control, tangling one of my hands in her hair and grabbing her lush, perfect ass with the other. When she opened her mouth on a moan to give me access, I nearly lost control. I growled and deepened the kiss, thrusting my tongue into her mouth and stroking it against hers. Pulling her tighter against me, I groaned into Fiona’s mouth when her tits pressed against my chest. I felt like I’d been missing this, missing us, for a goddamned lifetime, not just a few days. It wasn’t until I felt her against me again that I realized how essential she was. It was as if I’d been missing a limb without her, and now I was whole once more.

  We were both breathing hard when I finally pulled back, but I didn’t let her go. With one arm still firmly around her waist, I grabbed her wine and handed it to her before getting my beer and leading us into the living room. Fiona’s sofa didn’t look nearly as comfortable as mine, but it would do for now. At least until I got her back home.

  I took a seat, pulling her down right beside me so that most of her chest was pressing into my side, then propped my feet on the coffee table. “Okay, so you wanted to know the deal with my dad.”

  When she tried to pull away, I squeezed her waist tighter.

  “Uh, Deac? Is this really the best position for this talk?”

  Her face was barely two inches away when I looked down at her and smiled. “Feels pretty perfect to me.”

  She scrunched her face adorably. “It’s kind of awkward. Your face is really close.”

  I tipped my head down a bit farther and pressed my lips against hers in a hard, quick kiss. “I know. That’s the point.”

  “Fine,” she said with a roll of her eyes and a little sigh. Facing forward, she lifted her wineglass and sipped. “So tell me what’s going on with you and Nolan.”

  At her request, I dove in and opened myself up, showing her absolutely everything. I told her everything I’d told Grayson earlier that day, how I always felt second best, how I resented my father and brother, how it crushed me when she and Grayson started seeing each other. From the way her cheeks turned pink and her eyes teared up, I knew it was almost as painful for her to hear as it was for me to say.

  “Deacon,” she breathed when I finally reached the end. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Not your fault, sweetheart,” I said softly, winding a strand of her deep red hair around my finger. “It is what it is.”

  “But it shouldn’t be,” she declared forcefully. “What you’ve done with The Black Sheep… how can he not see how amazing it is?”

  That was a question I’d asked myself a million times. “I’ve given up trying to figure that out. I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin at the party, and I really shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I don’t know if things between me and Dad will ever be better than they are now, but I promise you, I’ll never take it out on your again. You have my word.”

  She went silent and dropped her cheek to my chest, deep in thought. After about a minute, she snapped, “I don’t accept that.”

  I leaned back and put a finger under her chin to lift her face to mine. “Don’t accept what?”

  Her expression was one of fierce determination. “That your relationship with your dad is what it’s always going to be. I don’t accept that. I know you guys. I know how much Nolan loves you and Grayson, and how much you love them. It doesn’t have to be this way. If you’d just talk instead of fight, maybe you two could fix things.”

  Everything she said sounded good—in theory. But I wasn’t going to hold my breath. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up, baby. You’ll just end up disappointed.”

  Her gaze drifted to the side, going unfocused. “Maybe,” she mumbled a while later. “But it’s worth the risk.”

  “Hey,” I called, wanting her attention back on me. “Why’s this so important to you?”

  She looked at me like I’d just said something stupid. “Because you’re important to me. When you hurt, I hurt. And I’ll do whatever I can to make it better for you. That’s what you do when you love someone.”

  Jesus, she was killing me. “I love you too, baby.”

  She smiled up at me with that bright, gorgeous smile, and I knew down to my bones that we were back to us. And I’d never been more thankful for anything in my life.

  “Around the world and back again,” she said softly.

  “To Jupiter and back again.”

  That time, she was the one to lift up and give me a kiss. “Good. Now take me home.”

  I didn’t have to be told twice.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Fiona

  It was the Sunday after mine and Deacon’s heart-to-heart, and things couldn’t have possibly been any better. After telling him to take me home, he’d promptly shot off the couch and headed to my bedroom. By the time I caught up with him, all of my luggage was laying open on my bed, and Deacon was leaning over the top drawer of my dresser. In one go, he scooped the entire contents into his arms and dumped the load into one of the suitcases. Then he did the same with the second drawer. And the third.

  It wasn’t until the dresser was empty and he moved to the closet, haphazardly throwing all my expensive dresses and blouses on top of the growing pile, hangers and all, that he looked at me and stated, “Baby, you handle all the bathroom shit. I got this. Anything that doesn’t fit in these bags, we’ll come back for later.”

  His order went in one ear and out the other as I stood frozen, watching in complete shock. “Uh, honey? What’s happening right now?”

  Deacon’s response wasn’t exactly an answer, even though it kind of was. “When we have free time, we’ll go through everything else. If there’s something you’re really attached to, we’ll find a place for it at home. If not, we’ll have a yard sale. You like your furniture better than mine, then we’ll talk and come up with a compromise. But just a heads up, I’m pretty sure my shit’s more comfortable. I don’t mind trading out, but I’m not down with redecorating every two or three years just because you get a wild hair. Make sure you pick the set you can live with for the long haul.”

  My mouth had been hanging open the entire time he spoke. Once he was finished, I managed to find my voice and asked, “So… are you saying that I’m moving in with you?”

  He tossed another armful of designer clothes into a bag and turned to face me, his hands on his hips. “Is this place home?”

  “Huh?”

  One hand shot out, waving to encompass the room around us. “This place. Does it feel like home to you?”

  “Well….”

  “Baby, there isn’t a single ounce of you anywhere in these four walls. This place is sterile. You’re not. So my question is, does this house feel like home for you?”

  Gah! Sometimes he was too damn intuitive for his own good. “It was an investment,” I found myself answering honestly. “I figured, at my age and with my income, the smart thing to do was own property.”

  Deacon’s face went soft. “Does my place feel like an investment?”

  “Of course not,” I declared. “I love your house. It’s inviting and cozy and warm. It’s homey. This”—I looked around at my white walls—“isn’t homey.”

  He smiled so big it took
up his whole face. “Then you’re moving in with me. It’s settled.”

  And it was. All of my clothing, toiletries, and about half my shoes went back to his place—now our place—that night. True to his word, he’d taken me back the next evening, and the one after. I had everything I needed to be fully moved in with Deacon. All that was left was selling off everything I didn’t want—which was most of it—and putting my house on the market. I couldn’t believe how easy it had been.

  This time around, coming home to him every night felt different. We might not have slept apart before, but having all of my belongings mingled with his under one roof, and knowing his home was also mine, made it even better.

  I’d been walking on air all week. Everything was absolutely freaking perfect. There wasn’t anything that could get me down—well, except for the teeny fact that I’d put together a family dinner and had failed to mention it to my boyfriend.

  Whoops.

  And there was less than an hour before our families started arriving.

  Deacon had spent his day off camped out in front of the TV watching whatever game he could find, so occupied that he didn’t notice me running around the house like a madwoman, cleaning up, prepping, and then cooking dinner before finally getting myself all dolled up. Unless he needed another beer, or needed to pee, he hadn’t even left the couch.

  I opted for comfortable yet fashionable when I picked my outfit for the evening: my favorite pair of faded skinny jeans, a loose-weave cream-colored sweater threaded through with a tiny bit of gold that drooped off one shoulder, a gold camisole underneath, and a pair of tan suede booties with a fat three-inch heel.

  Walking out of the bedroom and down the hall, I decided it was time to bite the bullet. The pork tenderloin I’d put in the slow cooker earlier that morning was almost done. The green beans had been blanched, seasoned, and almondine-d—which I was pretty sure wasn’t a word, but whatever. The timer had just gone off on the oven for the potatoes, so all that was left to do was inform Deacon. The one thing I’d been dreading so much I quite literally waited until the last minute.

  “Honey?” I said softly once I reached the living room.

  Deacon’s beer came to his lips, his eyes never leaving the TV, as he asked, “Yeah, baby?”

  “Well… dinner’s almost ready.”

  “Awesome,” he returned, still entranced by the game. “I’m starving. Whatever you made smells delicious.”

  “It’s pork tenderloin, green beans almondine, and au gratin potatoes.”

  “Wow, sweetheart. You really went all out,” he said, still talking to the television.

  “Thanks. Oh, and there’s just one last thing.”

  That finally got his attention, and he shifted his gaze to me. His eyes traveled the length of my body, shining with approval at my clothing choice. “Yeah? What’s that? And why’re you all dressed up?”

  “It’s nothing, really. No big deal. It’s just that our parents are coming to dinner,” I blurted, then spun around and bolted to the kitchen, calling over my shoulder, “I’ll just let you get back to your game.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” The noises of the ball game went silent, and his footsteps echoed behind me as I leaned over and pulled the casserole dish from the oven. “What the hell do you mean, our parents are coming to dinner?”

  Setting the dish on a pad, I tossed the potholders aside and started preparing the salad I was going to serve with our meal. “I mean I invited everyone for dinner.”

  “You invited them,” he said incredulously.

  “Yep.”

  “To dinner.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Your parents and mine.”

  “That’s typically what our parents means, honey.”

  “Fee,” he growled in a warning tone. “Put the goddamn croutons on the counter and look at me.”

  Well, damn. With a hard exhale, I dropped the bag of croutons and lifted my gaze to his, pulling my lips between my teeth.

  “Why did you invite our parents to dinner?”

  I gave him a look that said it all, but just in case he didn’t get the message, I told him, “You know why, Deacon.”

  With a sigh, he asked, “When did you set this thing up?”

  “Um….” I bit down on my bottom lip, hesitant to answer. “Thursday?”

  The muscle in Deacon’s cheek jumped. “Are you kidding me? The day after you moved in with me? You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

  “Look, Deac, I know I should’ve told you earlier, but this needs to happen. The issues between you and Nolan have been going on for too long.” I attempted a smile, hoping it would soften him up. It didn’t work very well. “And if it helps, it’s not just our parents. Grayson and Lola are coming too, and I think your folks are bringing your nana. It’s a family dinner,” I chirped happily.

  “Nana’s coming?” he barked. I couldn’t really blame him for his reaction to that. His nana was kind of a nut. Looking up at the ceiling, Deacon muttered, “Fucking Christ. There goes the neighborhood,” toward the heavens before tipping his head back down. “And when exactly is this family dinner supposed to happen?” The doorbell chimed at that very moment. “Ah, fuck me,” he grunted.

  “Hey.” I closed the distance between us and placed my hands on his chest. “It’s going to be okay. No matter what happens, no matter what’s said, I’m here. Okay? I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll have your back no matter what, because I love you, and I believe in you. That’s all that matter, Deacon. You and me, what we have, that’s all that matters.”

  The doorbell rang again, but Deacon ignored it and wrapped his arms around me, bringing his forehead down to rest against mine. “I love you,” he said fiercely. “I love you so damn much.”

  “Good.” I smiled. “Now answer the door, and I’ll finish the salad.”

  He pressed a quick kiss against my lips and let me go. I’d gone back to finishing the salad when I heard Grayson’s voice.

  “For God’s sake. How long were you planning on making us wait out here? It’s cold as hell. I think my balls just burrowed up into my stomach for warmth.”

  I smiled down at the tomato I was slicing as Deacon replied, “And how’s that’s different from where they normally are?”

  “You two can stand here having your pissing match for as long as you want, but can you at least let me inside first?” I heard Lola snark. A few seconds later, she came waddling around the corner. “Thank God,” she breathed once she caught sight of the spread all around the counters. “I haven’t eaten in about three hours. I’m seriously hangry right now, and if I don’t eat soon, I can’t be held responsible for what I do to my husband. Or his brother, for that matter.”

  She lifted herself onto a barstool—not an easy feat with that baby belly in the way—while I giggled and pushed the bruschetta I’d made as an appetizer across the counter to her.

  “How are you feeling?”

  She let out a sigh of relief and pounced on the bruschetta like a lion on a wounded gazelle, talking with her mouth full. “The doctor loosened up on my bed rest. I’m allowed to get up and around for a little longer, but I have to take it easy, which means no work until I deliver. So basically I’m going out of my mind. And Grayson’s been hovering twenty-four/seven. I love the guy, but at this point I don’t think there’s a jury in this country that would convict me for murdering him hard.”

  My head fell back on a long laugh. “You don’t have much longer, honey.”

  “I hope not. I’m going stir-crazy, and I’m bored out of my mind. You know I love you, and I’d do anything for you, but to be honest, I mainly came tonight because there’s a 99 percent chance for some drama happening, and I need a little entertainment.”

  I gave my friend a fierce scowl. “There isn’t going to be any drama. Sorry to disappoint, but tonight’s just going to be a nice, quiet family dinner.”

  Another knock came at the door. A moment later I heard Deacon’s grandm
other, clear as day. “Heard our sweet little Fiona’s moved in with you. I’m all for living in sin, my boy, but don’t knock her up before you put a ring on it. Take my word, the pullout method is a crock. You’re father here’s living proof of that.”

  Lola snorted.

  I rolled my eyes skyward.

  Apparently I’d spoken too soon.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Deacon

  We hadn’t made it farther than the front entrance and I was already I was praying for this family dinner to be over.

  From Nana’s introduction, it was obvious that she was in the mood to stir shit up, something she was unbelievably good at.

  “Hey, Nana. Good to see you.” I leaned down and kissed her papery cheek.

  “Good to be seen. Means I haven’t kicked the bucket in my sleep yet.”

  “Mom,” my father said in a chastising tone.

  Nana’s head jerked in his direction. “Don’t you use that tone with me. I could take you when you were a kid, and I can still take you now. I might be old, but I’m spry. I won’t hesitate to put you over my knee.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from busting up. Grayson and my mother barely managed to suppress their snorts of laughter as Dad muttered a quiet curse. “Lord, deliver me.”

  “Oh, I’ll deliver you, all right. Keep pushing,” Nana warned before looking back at me. “Boy, you’d think I didn’t raise you with any manners, keeping an old woman like me standing inside the doorway.”

  “So sorry,” I said. “Come on in. Can I get you anything, Nan? Champagne? Maybe a palm frond to fan you with?”

  She shot me a killing look. “Such a smartass. Where’s that girlfriend of yours? I like her better than you.”

  My lips twitched as I fought my grin. “The kitchen.”

  She and my mother went to join Fee and Lola in the kitchen, leaving me with Grayson and my dad. Gray gave me a look that spoke volumes. He was there to have my back.