Scott read the conversational tone and not the other, clearly, for he replied affably through a mouth full of pizza, “It’s a compliment, bro.”

Deke said nothing but I saw Scott’s expression shift so I peered up at my man, catching the tail end of the look he’d sent to Scott. Even fading, I read it and felt a tingle trail down my spine.

I did not share with Scott I didn’t mind a little razzing about anything, and through that sharing the same with all the boys. Boys who I was facing at least another week of them being in my house. Including razzing me and Deke about hooking up and the way we did. Because I really didn’t mind it. I’d grown up around men, these men being my dad’s band and his friends. I knew how it was.

I didn’t share because, for whatever reason he had, Deke didn’t like it. Most likely he didn’t like it because he thought it might bother me. Therefore he wanted it shut down so he shut it down and it wouldn’t be cool for him to make that point and me to contradict it.

I did not have a problem with this. It was my lion protecting me, even against things that I didn’t need protected from.

You didn’t mess with a lion, especially my lion, who was so badass he could shut someone down with a look.

I reached for a slice of pepperoni and did it trying not to smile.

Deke reached for the same.

I decided to eat one slice with the boys and take my next slice to my music room so not only was the client not there, hanging with them, but also the client who one of their own was banging wasn’t there, making things weird for everybody.

I had floors. Nearly had stairs. There was now more than one working toilet in my house. And I was edging in on having a kitchen.

None of this sucked.

Still, I ate my slice, grabbed my next one, gave my man a look that included a small smile, and wandered to my music room, wishing it was just Deke and me, sandwiches and La-La Land treats with the occasional Bubba mixed in.

But it wasn’t.

Whatever.

I had afternoon Crock-Pot plans that would lead to nesting.

So I had good waiting for me.

All I needed to make it better was to coax Krys into coming with me.

* * * * *

“Jesus,” Deke called as I struggled in the door with some of my many purchases.

It was late.

The guys were gone.

But Deke was doing his usual overtime.

And I saw I not only had my built-in hutch, I had my stone backsplashes and patterned copper oven back.

So I was smiling hugely even as I dumped my bags with a loud thump to the floor and announced, “Crock-Pots are heavy.”

Deke moved to me, asking, “How much you still got out there?”

“Um…a lot,” I shared.

We’d just say Deluxe Home Store had a good day.

And I had plastic spoons that were actually awesome spoon/scrapers that Lauren talked me into getting—in three colors.

Amongst other things.

Deke stopped close. “You leave anything in the store?”

“Barely.”

“Krys good?”

I kept smiling. “Yup. And Breanne was perfect her first time shopping. And Lauren is the master homewares shopper. And I’m more than good. I’m nesting and I just knew that copper oven back would be the bomb.”

Deke grinned down at me but the grin slid from his face, his expression turning serious just as his voice dipped. “Jussy, just to say, you got a lot of shit to haul in, you grab a coupla bags, get inside and tell your man you got a lot of shit to haul in. Then I go out and get it. Yeah?”

“Deke, I can carry in—”

I stopped talking when he gave me a look. It wasn’t the kind of look that he gave Scott, but it shut me up all the same.

He knew I got him when the seriousness of his face lightened, he bent in, gave me a lip brush then pulled away and moved away, ambling to the door.

I decided to take only a few bags to the laundry room at a time, though I only got my few bags in there. Deke brought the ones in from the truck while I was doing this and when we both went back to the great room, he grabbed all the handles of the ones I’d dropped to the floor and took them there for me.

In the time we’d been together, we had not gotten into past relationships. This last week, we just…were. I was either working or setting up my music room while Deke worked. We did dinner. We had sex. We slept. We woke up together. And repeat.

But I didn’t think this was about some woman training him how to be the man of the house.

This was about him growing up from two-years-old being the man of the family with his mother, even when they didn’t live in their own house.

The man Deke was demonstrating he was going to be for me made me happy. Ecstatically so. It wasn’t that I couldn’t haul my own bags. It was that he got something out of doing it for me that was sweet, taking care of me even in minor ways that were only minor for me. For Deke, they had a deeper meaning.

But this came with the reminder that what I’d lost with my dad passing, Deke had lost with his mom too. Knowing she’d never see the fruits of the upbringing she gave her son, doing this miraculously even as life beat them down. Understanding the kind of man she’d made. Having her look at me and me being able to share with just my manner how much she gave through her son.

“Feelin’ Rosalinda’s then a drink at Bubba’s,” Deke declared as he walked back into the great room. “You in?”

I pulled myself out of my thoughts and nodded, asking, “You wanna shower here or go to the trailer?”