Kaleidoscope (Colorado Mountain #6)(109)

* * *

Forty-five minutes later…

“Hi-yah!”

Emme attacked.

Buford barked.

Deck, walking out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, getting attacked from behind, threw his hands behind his head. He grabbed Emme under her arms, hefted her up his back and took four strides to the bed. She squealed and Buford barked again when he bent at the waist and flipped her over on the bed. He leaned in, grasped her hips, twisted her around and dropped on top of her.

She huffed out a breath of air and blinked up at him.

Then she noted, “My instructor didn’t teach that when we were going over scenarios of what to do when being attacked from behind.”

Deck burst out laughing.

Emme had liked the idea of self-defense classes and wasted no time finding one and enrolling in it. It was held in the Community Center in Chantelle and she’d been to the first two of six weekly classes. They also did an advanced course, which she’d already signed up to take.

On the other hand, Deck had wasted no time installing her security system. Her windows were done and now Max was pulling together a bid to see to her garage. And while Deck worked on the system, Emme worked beside him, patching the walls around her wiring.

That evening, they were heading out to a ranch outside Gnaw Bone to have a look at Rottweiler puppies.

They had a plan, but better, they were wasting no time moving ahead on it together. And Deck wasn’t dragging Emme along with him.

She was beside him all the way.

This meant his laughter was heartfelt in more ways than one.

“Usually you say ‘hi-yah’ right before you break boards with a karate chop,” he informed her after he quit laughing.

“I also say ‘hi-yah’ to give my man advance warning I’m about to attack, something he apparently doesn’t need.”

He felt his brows rise. “Apparently?”

She grinned at him and stated, “Don’t think I’ll ever be able to flip someone ass over head over my head. So, first, that was awesome you doing it. Second, heads up, I’m so totally attacking and doing it repeatedly so you’ll do it again. And last, even in defeat, I’m taking this opportunity to brag that at least I took my instructor down last night on try three. Though not by flipping him over my head as he’s six one and may weigh twice as much as me.”

“Well done, Emme,” he muttered distractedly, not really listening as he was suddenly remembering he was only wearing a towel, noting she only had on his shirt, and as she always played it that way, it was doubtful she had on any panties.

“Jacob,” she called, and his eyes that had drifted to her lips, drifted up just as his hand drifted down her side.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Your oatmeal is on the kitchen counter,” she told him.

He dropped his lips to her collarbone and slid his hand up the shirt at her hip then in over her belly. “It’s too hot to eat now.”

“”Honey, we just finished,” she reminded him.

“An hour ago,” he murmured against her throat.

“I have to go to work.”

“You can be late.”

“I can’t.”

“Your dad’s the boss,” he told her jaw.

“Precisely why I can’t be late. He depends on me.”

Deck lifted his head, looked down at her and at something she saw in his face, hers changed.

And Deck liked that change.

So he grinned and murmured, “Quick.”

“Quick,” she whispered, already lifting her mouth to his.

He didn’t make her go far.

* * *

One hour later…

Deck and Buford stood in his garage watching Emme pull out.

But she stopped in the driveway, rolled down her window and stuck her head out.

“Persephone!” she yelled.

Deck smiled huge and tipped his chin up at her.

Before she left, after he’d kissed her and she climbed up in her Bronco, they’d had words about her truck’s name, now with her word being the last.

Her head disappeared but he saw she was smiling through the windshield. She waved after she turned out of his drive and before she rode away.

Yeah. Emme’s light was beaming, unrestricted.

And blinding.

Deck looked down to his dog. “How you likin’ this Emme, pal?”

Buford’s tongue lolled and his tail started wagging.

He liked her before so the point was moot.

Deck bent, gave Buford a rubdown, and as he was straightening, his phone rang.

He pulled it out of his back pocket and saw the display said “Chace calling.”

“Yo, man,” he greeted, at the same time moving toward the button that would close the garage door.

He was facing computer work that day. That afternoon, with no other options open to him as nothing was leading to anything with Prosky, staking out the high school. Then off to look at dogs.

Not a fun day, until the end.

“Where are you?” Chace asked, and his voice made Deck stop thinking about his shit day that at least would end well, and he stopped dead.

“At home. Why?” he answered.

There was nothing from Chace for a long moment before he asked, “Those prints you gave me to run, where’d you get those again?”