I did indeed.

"Yes, but I've had fried tortillas and none of them were that awesome."

His lips curved up.

"What did you do to the meat?" I asked.

He turned his attention back to the trees. "Used your chiles, added more cumin to the spice packet, the rest, I'd have to kill you if I told you."

I aimed my eyes to the trees as well, but did it grinning. "I think you inject badass goodness into them somehow."

He made no reply but I actually felt the humor drifting from him.

This made me happy.

I took a sip from my beer and found I was at the dregs, the part of the beer I refused to consume.

I dropped my hand and turned back to Deacon. "I need another one, honey. You want one?"

"Yeah, but I'll get 'em," he said, hands to the arms of his chair, pushing himself up.

"I'll get them."

He looked down at me. "Got 'em, Cassie."

I smiled up at him, even happier.

Gutters cleaned. Someone to go grocery shopping with. One meal every now and then I didn't have to cook (and it was a good one). Great sex on a more-than-regular basis. Waking up not alone but tucked close to someone who meant something to me. And when I needed a beer, I didn't have to haul my booty in the house to get it.

Oh yes, life was sweet.

Deacon went into the house and came back with fresh cold ones. Then he sat at my side, lifted his feet, and tangled them in mine.

Definitely.

Life was sweet.

"Seriously, no," I said low.

"Is this gonna happen every fuckin' time?" Deacon asked back, openly annoyed.

"No, because we're gonna get this straight now."

The gutters were done on all the cabins, cleaned, and the areas that needed replacing were replaced. Now, Deacon wanted to start work on my roof.

And he was intent on buying the shingles.

I was of an opposite mind.

Thus, we were standing in my foyer, facing off again.

I'd let him buy the groceries, no argument, not even to bust his chops because I'd had my words about him wandering off again so I thought that was enough for one day.

But he bought the gutters, including the replacement materials we needed for the cabins.

I was getting the shingles.

"You budget for shingles?" he asked.

"I have money," I answered.

"That wasn't my question."

"No, but you know that since I didn't even know I needed shingles. But it doesn't matter. You're clearly worried about the state of my roof and I don't figure you'd be this fired up to take care of it if that concern wasn't valid. And I'd rather have a problem fixed before it becomes a real problem. You take care of problems, even if they require money. Which, as I said, I have. Dad won't let me pay him back and that's partly because he wants me to have savings for a rainy day. This is literally that: taking care of something for a rainy day."

His eyes slightly narrowed before he asked a bizarre question. "You buy your ex out?"

"Sorry?"

"That guy you scraped off, you buy him out of his part of this business?"

"He didn't buy in. It's always been all mine."

He nodded once. "Right, this works out with us, is it gonna stay that way?"

I snapped my mouth shut because I hadn't thought of that.

"Cassidy, I got work to do to leave the life I lead behind. I haven't even started that 'cause I needed to get where you were at with this. With us. We're new. We're good. We stay good, that work starts happening. And when that life is done for me, what do you want me to do?"

I didn't understand the question. "What do I want you to do?"

"Yeah. Do you want me to work at your side or find somethin' else that takes my time, 'cause, so you know, I don't need money in a way I won't until I die."

That made my mouth drop open.

I closed it only to open it again to say, "Seriously?"

"The work I do gets paid a whack. The life I lead doesn't have a lot of overhead. Been doin' this shit a while. Got enough money to live good, not large, but comfortable. That said, not a man to put my feet up and I suspect that's in a way that I'll never be that man. You want me at your side and workin' this business with you, I'm down with that, and I buy the shingles as part of that buy-in that we'll discuss fully when we're there. You're not down with that, you want this to be yours and me to have no part in it outside comin' back to you after my day is done doin' whatever it is I'll be doin, you buy the shingles."

"This is a big decision to make at this juncture, Deacon," I noted carefully.

"I get you," he replied. "But you're right. The state of your roof, I don't like it. Shit could happen and that shit might happen when I'm not with you to help you deal. So I want it fixed. So this decision needs to be made now."

"These cabins..." I paused, took a breath and explained, "These cabins mean a lot to me, honey. I've put everything into these cabins. I love these cabins."

"Right," he muttered, his eyes shuttering.

"But," I went on swiftly, "I don't know what the future will bring. To me we're not good, we're great. I love having you here. It's making me happy. It's making you happy. So when that time comes where we know we're solid and you've left that life, then we can talk about your buy-in. But now it's too soon and I need shingles."

"Then you pay for the shingles, Cassidy, but I pay for groceries while I'm here. What you eat, what I eat, all of it. My way of kickin' in, it's important to me to do that so you let me have that and don't bitch or fight me."

And there was more proof.

Badasses could compromise.

My heart swelled as I told him, "I can do that."

He held my eyes. "You sure?"

It was then I saw his weren't shuttered anymore. They were lit.

He was teasing.

God, I loved it when Deacon teased. No way I would ever have guessed he would tease when I knew him only as John Priest.

But I loved it that he did.

"It might cause debilitating pain, but I'll deal with it," I teased back.

"And she gives me the smartass."

"As I said, it's who I am."

His voice was sweet when he said, "Yeah."

He liked who I was.

I returned that sentiment.

I told him that in his language by moving to him, putting a hand on his abs, rolling up on my toes to get close, and saying, "Let's get shingles."

Two days later, I was in the kitchen getting Deacon, who was hammering on my roof in the hot sun, a cool drink when I heard a knock at my door.

I set the glass of ice water aside and moved to the front door, opening it to find my new renter there looking unhappy.

This was not a surprise.

I'd left Deacon on the roof so I could hang out in the house and wait for him and his family because I knew they were checking in that day. They checked in and he was surly when they did. No one was surly when they were checking in to fabulous cabins by a river in the Colorado Mountains. No one except someone who was always surly.

"Hello, Mr. Snyder, how can I help you?"

"This is unacceptable."

Wonderful.

"What's unacceptable?" I asked, "There are no towels," he answered.

I nodded my head in confirmation, explaining, "It states clearly in my terms and conditions, which you're asked to click on prior to booking, that I don't provide towels."

"No one reads terms and conditions," he retorted.

What an idiot.

"I'm sorry if you didn't, Mr. Snyder, but it's spelled out there. I also note the same in the cabin descriptions on my website, which you booked through."

"I just looked at the pictures," he told me. "And now I have a wife, two kids, myself, a week in that cabin, and no towels. What are we supposed to do when we take showers?"

"This has happened before, of course, so I have towels you can rent for the week."

His brows shot up. "Rent? For extra?"

"Yes, five dollars a towel."

"We'll each need more than one, being here a week."

"I have several, but it's still five dollars a towel."

"That's outrageous," he snapped.

It absolutely wasn't.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. But there's a store in town that carries linens. They have towels."

"So I spend ridiculous money on towels I don't need at home?" he asked.

"I'm not sure what to tell you. You accepted the terms when you booked. You can rent towels or you can go to town and buy them. Either way, it's worth a trip into town. There are a couple of lovely stores, a fantastic coffee shop, and a few good restaurants."

"I didn't come up here for you to play tour guide," he bit out nastily.

That was when I felt it. I felt it before I saw it.

So my eyes moved beyond Mr. Snyder at my door to the porch steps to see Deacon standing one down from the top, his arms crossed on his wide chest, the ends of his hair wet with sweat from the work he was doing, looking gorgeous and scary.

"We got a problem here?" he asked and Snyder turned to him.

"Who are you?" he demanded to know.

"I'm Ms. Swallow's man," Deacon answered. "Now, do we have a problem here?"

"There are no towels at the cabin, which is unacceptable."

Deacon looked to me.

"I explained the terms and conditions, which Mr. Snyder accepted," I told him.