His brows shot together and a few days ago, that would have been more than a little daunting.

Right then, it was not.

"You got my dick in your mouth, the first head I've had in seven years, you're workin' fuckin' magic, you stop to have a heartfelt chat, I retaliate, and you think that's not fair?" he asked.

"That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about how you keep one-upping me in the happiness stakes."

His brows shot up at that. "The happiness stakes?"

"I'm supposed to be making you happy, not the other way around."

The scowl he was delivering faded as he stared at me.

Then he gave me all of his weight, crushing me to the bed when he burst out laughing.

The sound filled the room, filled my senses. The feel shook me and not just physically. Emotionally in ways I knew I'd never forget that feel for my whole life. All of it, the wealth of beauty soaked into my skin, and when it did I knew the man on top of me laughing was it. The one. The world. The man made for me. The man I was going to fall in love with. The only man I'd ever really love.

That was why I'd made my choice.

That was why I would long for him if he'd decided to leave me.

That was what I knew would haunt me. Not wondering how it could have been, knowing I'd lost everything if he didn't give me the chance to make him laugh just like he was doing.

And there it was again.

Just by laughing, he one-upped me.

"Ugh, you're one-upping me again," I announced irately.

He shifted slightly to my side by getting up on a forearm but staying connected to me.

"How's that?" he asked, still chuckling.

"You have a great laugh," I answered exasperatedly.

He stopped laughing but kept grinning (more freaking happy!) as he cupped my jaw and dipped his face close. "Cassie, you made me laugh."

"I couldn't miss that, Deacon."

His thumb swept my cheek and he stopped grinning.

"Baby, you made me laugh."

Oh God.

I stared in his eyes and remembered what he'd said the night before, remembered what he'd communicated the first time I saw him.

Oh God.

He didn't do that ever.

"Now you're gonna make me cry," I informed him, my voice underlining my words.

Humor flickered in his eyes as he muttered, "Jesus, you're so much of a woman, you're more woman than any woman I've met."

I started getting peeved again.

"You say that like it's bad," I replied sharply.

"Hang on, Cassidy, I'm still adjusting to your last mood swing."

I glared at him and saw the crinkles by his eyes.

He was teasing.

"Don't be playful when I'm feeling emotional," I ordered.

To this, he strangely replied, "You get I'm a badass."

"Hard to miss, Deacon," I returned.

"Then don't tell me when to be playful. Badasses don't like that shit."

His words were so ridiculous (though undoubtedly true), I couldn't stop from grinning.

He caught my grin and requested, "Can we keep this mood for five minutes?"

I shrugged. "Sure."

"Obliged," he muttered, the crinkles still radiating from his eyes.

I put my hands to the ridges of his abs and slid them up his chest.

He stroked my cheek and dropped closer.

"You wanna clean up?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," I answered quietly too.

"Then shuteye or you wanna sit on my face?"

I blinked.

Then I squirmed.

His gaze heated as he muttered, "Sit on my face."

"There it is," I muttered back. "More happy."

I saw the light in his eyes as he dropped even closer.

"Baby, that pussy on my mouth, your ass in my hands, the noises you make fillin' the room, knowin' I get to drive deep in your wet, tight cunt while you're still moanin' for me. Then after I give it to you, and you give it to me, I get to bed down with you tucked tight. You don't think that makes me happy, you're fuckin' crazy."

I squirmed more but this time it wasn't just a turned-on squirm. It was a turned-on happy squirm.

He felt it and gave me another grin before he gave me another order.

"Go, clean up."

"Okay, honey."

He touched his mouth to mine, pulled out, and rolled off.

I rolled the other way and dashed to the bathroom.

I closed the door.

But when I got there, I looked in the mirror and saw my long hair wild, my eyes soft and sated, my skin flushed.

My hair looked sexy like that, even I had to say so.

My eyes looked amazing.

My flushed skin made me look vibrant and alive.

I looked like I'd been fucked hard.

And I'd never looked happier.

Chapter Eight.

I'll Have Pie.

Six weeks later, I sat in my Adirondack chair on my porch, feet up to the railing, eyes to the rain falling soft and steady on the trees. My heart was heavy even though I had my phone to my ear and was listening to my mother talk about the family reunion she had suddenly gotten a wild hair to have and was therefore planning.

"Early August, Cassidy, five cabins and we're paying. No argument."

She said "no argument" because she'd birthed me. She knew me. She knew me even before I was born, telling me (and anyone who would listen) that I had a lot to say with the amount of kicking and moving I did before I came out. So she wasn't surprised I came out bawling.

She knew I would argue.

And she was right.

"Mom, first, I have two guest bedrooms at my house so Titus doesn't have to pay. He and Bessie can stay with me. I know things are tight since Bessie got laid off."

"Titus isn't paying. Your father and I are."

At this, my eyes got huge and my voice pitched higher. "Mom, are you crazy? Titus will lose his alpha mind if you and Dad try to pay for his cabin."

"He'll get over it."

There it was. She was crazy. My brother would never get over it. And thus, Christmases-Christmases that the family now usually spent with me at Glacier Lily (this being what I'd arranged after Deacon had his words with me that Christmas years ago, not a hardship for my family since my cabins were awesome)-would be a pain in the ass because my baby bro would show. He would show because he loved me, he loved my sister, and he doted on Lacey's kids.

So he'd show.

But he'd do it brooding. And Titus brooding was no fun.

"How's this for a compromise?" I started. "Titus and Bessie stay with you in your cabin. That way they only have to pay half."

"Honey, one day, pray to God, you have your own children. And then, pray to God, you'll rejoice every day for decades at the beauty you created. Beauty, if it's a boy, you don't want to hear enjoying his wife in the next room. And, just saying, vice versa if it's a girl with her man."

Instantly, my mouth stretched out and down at the idea of hearing my little brother banging his wife. Something I knew he did, and regularly. This knowledge coming not only because that was what married people did, but also because two years ago, Mom and Dad had hosted Titus and Bessie's rehearsal dinner at the ranch and Dad had walked in on them doing it in the upstairs bathroom.

This caused Bessie to scream, Titus to shout, and Dad to slam the door, rush down the stairs and out of the house, mumbling, "Gotta feed the horses," when he most definitely did not have to feed the horses in the middle of my brother's rehearsal dinner.

According to Lacey, Dad didn't look Bessie straight in the eyes for ages.

Fortunately, he'd gotten over that.

Reminded of this, I replied, "I take your point."

"I'm sure you do," Mom returned. "Now, five cabins. One for your dad and me. One for Lacey, Matt, and the kids. One for Uncle Gideon and Aunt Mellie. One for Aunt Rachel. And one for Titus and Bessie."

"Mom, you've been here. My cabins all have two bedrooms. You don't need to pay for that many cabins if folks bunk up. And I'm not talking Titus with you. But Aunt Rachel could bunk with you and Dad."

"Don't you have that many cabins open in August?" Mom asked.

I had no idea. I had a lot of advanced bookings, but since it was early May, I probably wasn't that booked.

I reached beside me to the laptop I'd put on the arm of the chair next to mine, ordering, "Give me dates. I'll check."

She gave me dates as I opened the laptop. I checked. Then I gave in and booked the five cabins for Mom.

"Thanks, angelface," she said when I told her I'd done just that.

"Alternate scenario," I replied. "Dad can take this off the money I owe him."

I suggested this but I knew it would be wasted breath. This was because Mom and Dad always paid for their cabins when they came.

"Your father is in a good mood so I'm not even suggesting that to him," Mom returned.

"Whatever," I muttered and heard her chuckle.