“But did you not do it because—?”

“I didn’t do it because, my hands on you, that tended to lead to something.”

I stared at him. “I’m pretty sure you can control your base instincts.”

“I can. But my dick has a mind of its own around you. Don’t need to be fightin’ gettin’ hard while a ten-year-old kid is interrogatin’ me about my life.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, getting it.

“Or when I’m walkin’ down the aisle in a grocery store.”

I started grinning.

Deacon watched my mouth, muttering, “I see she gets me.”

“I get you.”

His eyes came to mine. “I’ll get over that, woman, I get used to you.”

He was teasing.

“Then I’ll have to keep giving it to you good so you don’t,” I retorted.

His thumb slid over my lips again with his eyes watching as he said, “She likes me hard.”

“Absolutely.”

His eyes came back to mine and they were dancing.

I leaned in and touched my lips to his.

When I pulled back, I asked, “When’s your birthday?”

“September thirtieth,” he answered instantly.

That would have washed over me too, in a happy way, but it didn’t (well, it did, just that I was shocked).

“Seriously?”

His brows drew together. “No boundaries,”

I couldn’t believe this.

He knew it. I knew when he growled, “Not lyin’, woman.”

“Baby,” was all I could get out.

“What?” he clipped.

I wanted to start giggling.

I didn’t.

Instead, I said, “That’s my birthday too.”

He stared. Then he grinned.

And all was right in the world.

“No shit?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Meant for me, Cassie,” he murmured. “I know ’cause eight years from the day God put me on earth, he put you here for me.”

He was so wrong.

“No,” I disagreed. “Eight years before I got to this earth, he put you here for me.”

His eyes started dancing again before that light faded and his expression got serious.

“Got one more thing to ask of you.”

“Shoot.”

He took his hand from my jaw to wrap his arm around me again and both held me close.

“Need you to talk to someone about watchin’ Glacier Lily. Need to go to Iowa, see my folks, mend what I broke, and when I do, I want you to be with me.”

Yes.

Yes.

It was back.

I felt glee.

“I’m there whenever you’re ready,” I replied immediately.

“Fuck, I love you,” he returned on a powerful arm squeeze.

“Love you more.”

“That’s doubtful.”

I screwed my eyes up at him. “I totally love you more.”

He held my gaze. Then his went to the porch ceiling.

“She can argue about who loves who more.”

“I so love you more,” I retorted.

He looked back at me.

Then he whispered, “Beautiful war.”

Beautiful war.

It was indeed.

I didn’t get the chance to agree.

Deacon slid his hand up into my hair, pulled me to him, and kissed me.

He gave it all to me.

I gave it back.

And we made out in Deacon’s chair in the cold on my porch by a river in the Colorado Mountains and we did it a long, long time.

Yes.

Daddy was home.

Yippee!

Epilogue

Cookies

I was in my foyer, pacing the floor, Bossy at my side panting.

Deacon was leaned against the jamb of the kitchen door, arms crossed on his chest, jeans-clad hip hitched, one foot crossed at the ankle, watching me.

“Woman, cool it,” he ordered.

I stopped and looked to him.

Mom and Dad were going to be there imminently to look after Glacier Lily while Deacon and I went to Iowa.

I’d called Mom and told her Deacon was back, we’d worked things out, and we were picking up where we left off.

Considering the way I was when they showed in August, this news didn’t bring joy to my mother.

I then shared everything about Deacon.

Well, not the parts about him killing people, but (most of) the rest. About Jeannie. About him going off the grid. About him being called Ghost and why. And about his struggle when I went about doing something I didn’t really know I was doing: reviving him.

Not surprisingly, she caved.

Mom had a good heart.

Dad did not cave.

He had a good heart but a big part of that heart belonged to me.

He’d need some convincing.

Even so, they’d agreed to come. Titus was going to look after the ranch while they were gone.

And since they were going to be there any minute, I was freaking.

“I’m sorry to remind you of this, honey, but I wasn’t really in a good state when they showed after you left me,” I told him.

Deacon sighed, pushed away from the jamb, and came to me.

Even though Bossy tried to get his attention, nosing his thigh and wagging her tail frantically, Deacon only had eyes for me.

He lifted both hands and cupped my jaw, dipping his face to mine.

“Do you love me?” he asked.

“Of course,” I answered.

“Does he love you?” he went on.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Then, Cassie, he may not love me. He may not forgive me. He might not find it in his heart to understand. But if you love me, he’ll find a way to put up with me.”

Suddenly, I relaxed.

Because he was wrong.

Not about the part about Dad finding a way to put up with him.

About the part where Dad might not find it in his heart to understand.

He would.

He just needed to see to believe.

I nodded.

Deacon dipped his head further to kiss me.

Bossy raced from us to the door.

They were there.

I started freaking again.

Deacon felt it, lifted his head, looked in my eyes, and ordered, “Jesus. Cool it.”

“Bossy,” I snapped.

He grinned.

And again I quit freaking.

He let me go but grabbed my hand and took me to the door.

He dropped my hand but draped an arm around my shoulders as we waited on the porch at the top of the steps while Mom and Dad made their way to us (“we” meant Deacon and me, Bossy ran out to greet them).