Sweet Dreams (Colorado Mountain #2)(79)

“How many times are you going to throw that in my face?” I asked when my squinty eyes caught his.

He grinned. “You strung out your grudge against me for nearly two weeks and I just said somethin’ stupid, so I figure I get at least a month of throwin’ that in your face since how you f**ked up meant somethin’.”

I put my hands to his shoulders and tilted my head to the side. “And how long are you going to throw my grudge in my face?”

“Until I get that you get that it was stupid and don’t do it again.”

I pressed against his shoulders and leaned back. “Would you like me to perform an altogether different kind of welcome home? The kind where the ‘welcome’ part doesn’t factor into it?”

His grin turned into a smile, his hands flattened on my back and put pressure on, bringing me closer.

“No baby,” he murmured, one of his hands coming out of my t-shirt to slide into my hair and bring my face closer to his too. “I like the ‘welcome’ part the best.”

“Then maybe you’ll let that stuff go so we can move on,” I suggested but I didn’t mean it as a suggestion. I meant it as a delicately worded warning.

He was smiling again when his face disappeared in my neck. “I’ll let it go,” he agreed, “since Deke told me you kept yourself out of trouble.”

It was unfortunate he mentioned Deke.

Deke was kind of a new addition to my life, the “kind of” being that I didn’t know much about him, didn’t talk much to him, he rarely talked to me but he was around a lot.

Deke was a mountain of a man. Six foot eight and big. He made Bubba look like a slouch because Deke didn’t have a belly; Deke was solid from head to toe, solid as in solid.

Deke was also Tate’s friend. Deke also met me at the airport even though I’d arranged it with Wendy that she would meet me. When I walked out of the terminal, Deke came straight up to me and I knew he was of my new people just looking at him (the hint was the motorcycle boots and the leather vest with patches on it but the jeans, black t-shirt and multitude of tattoos helped).

His hazel eyes in his big, blond, ponytailed head looked right into mine as I stared up at him, mouth agape, and he asked, “You Tate’s old lady?”

I nodded.

“I’m Deke. Tate and me are tight. I’m also your ride,” he informed me then took my arm and marched me to the luggage carousel. Then, when I went for my bag, he thrust me aside, hefted up my bag, took my arm again and marched me to a dirty truck where he dumped my bag in the back and shoved me in the cab. Then off we went to Carnal.

Deke wasn’t much of a talker and as I was marathon texting everyone in two states informing them of the fact that I was home (as well as texting Tate, ascertaining that he was, indeed “tight” with a mountain of man called Deke) I was busy.

The next night, my first night back at the bar, Deke was there. He was also there the minute Wood walked in, his eyes on me (my eyes were on him too and I was pretty sure they were wide and a little panicked). Deke also planted a hand in Wood’s chest and shoved him straight back out the door.

That was the last I saw of Wood but not the last I saw of Deke. He was a regular when I was on at night and he was a regular when normal day working hours were done for the rest of Carnal. He wasn’t just my ride from the airport, he was my ride home too. This I found out when I left the bar that first night only to discover Deke leaning against his bike just outside the front door. The minute I exited, he came to me, grabbed my arm and marched me to his bike where he ordered simply, “On.”

I got on. I might be able to trade words with Badass Tate but there was no way I was taking on Powerhouse Deke.

In other words, Deke was a regular when Wood wasn’t working and also Deke was my bodyguard.

My hands slid to Tate’s chest and I tried to push back. Tate’s hand in my t-shirt became an arm wrapped tight around my back.

I gave up pushing and stated, “Let’s talk about Deke.”

“Ace –”

“That was unnecessary,” I declared and watched the soft humor leave his face as it got deadly serious.

“All right, babe, I’ll give this a minute. A, you talk to Wood after I talk to Wood and not before. And B, I’m not here, you’re safe and I do what I gotta do to make that happen. Pull favors from friends and keep you outta Wood’s path.”

“It’ll likely be uncomfortable for me but I will eventually need to talk to Wood to explain things.”

“He doesn’t need explanations.”

“Tate –”

“Or, I should say, the only ones he’s gonna get are gonna come from me.”

“Tate!”

“Babe.”

“It’s rude for me to…” I hesitated, uncertain what word to use then I settled on, “be with someone and then the next day be with someone else without explaining to that first someone what happened. I owe him that.”

Tate’s arm tightened around my back and his hand cupping my head brought my face even closer.

“You don’t get this because you don’t know Wood. I know Wood. Trust me, you knew Wood, you’d get it and you’d know you don’t owe him shit. I’ll explain to you about Wood later. I ain’t gonna do it when you’re astride me, you’re on a f**kin’ break and I just got home.”