Caged (Mastered, #4)(43)
“Maybe you’d better watch your mouth, because you don’t know a f*cking thing about her.”
“Doesn’t seem like you know as much as you think you do either,” she retorted.
The slam of the back door broke Molly and Mr. About-to-Be-Punched-in-the-Kisser apart.
Molly glanced over at him with a measure of guilt.
Deacon’s eyes narrowed.
Mr. Gonna-Be-Handed-His-Ass looked at Molly and then Deacon.
Clasping Tim’s hand with a challenging look, she towed him over to Deacon. “I’d like you to meet my good friend. Tim Bakke, this is Deacon McConnell.”
With his build and coloring, this Tim guy was a dead ringer for Sandan Zach from Black Arts—a guy Molly had once dated.
Now it’s on, motherf*cker.
Tim offered his hand first. “Nice to meet you, Deacon.”
Shaking the proffered hand, Deacon muttered “ass-licker,” knowing it’d pass as likewise. Good one, bro. Dante laughed in his head, as he always had when they’d pulled that old gag. Never not funny.
Deacon refocused on Molly. Why hadn’t she clarified who he was? Or when she’d said good friend—maybe she hadn’t been referring to Tim.
Fuck that.
Tim grabbed Molly’s hands. “I’m here; put me to work while we catch up. God. You look amazing. I’ll bet you have to beat the guys away with a stick.”
E-f*cking-nough.
Deacon stood behind Molly, gliding his fingers down her arms in a deliberately sensual caress. He pulled her hands free from Tim’s and tugged her back against his body. “I don’t need a stick to beat down the guys dumb enough to touch her. I just use my hands.”
Silence.
Tim raised his eyebrows at Molly. “He’s your boyfriend?”
Deacon almost snapped that he was a f*cking man, not a goddamn boy.
“Yes. We’re together.”
“Huh.”
“Who’d you think I was?” Deacon demanded.
“A moving guy here to help with . . . stuff.” Tim didn’t budge at Deacon’s nonverbal expression of displeasure.
Molly squeezed Deacon’s wrist as a warning. “Be nice.”
Keeping his gaze on Tim, he said, “This is nice for me, babe.”
“We’re working upstairs. Come on.”
Deacon had no choice but to let her go.
“This should go fast. Then we’ll head down to the cellar.”
“I hate the cellar,” Tim said.
“Well, at least Grams cleaned out the majority of crap down there two years ago, or we’d be stuck down there for a month,” Molly said as she started up the stairs.
Tim followed her, but he paused to look at Deacon.
That’s right. I’m watching you. And you’d better keep your beady eyes off her butt.
He grabbed the garbage can and headed up the stairs. He’d make sure that motherf*cker kept his hands off her too.
? ? ?
FOR the next two hours Molly and Tim reminisced.
It went like this:
Cue Tim’s braying laughter after they journeyed into the dank cellar: Hey, Mol, remember when we were fourteen and stole a bottle of homemade dandelion wine from down here?
Cue Molly’s tittering laugh. Yes, the woman f*cking tittered at Tim: All I remember about that night was puking outside, next to the grain bin.
And so it went. On and on.
Deacon pretended to tune them out. But that meant his thoughts drifted to his own memories. He hated getting sucked back into that time of his life, before life as he knew it ended.
That was how he defined his life. Before. And after.
What will happen when Molly asks about your childhood?
He’d do the same thing he did when anyone pried into his life before; he’d hedge. Or flat-out lie if he had to. With her, he could f*ck her until she ceased to think at all.
Brandi and Jennifer clomped down the stairs.
The one good thing about Tim showing up was the cousins had steered clear of them.
Molly tossed an empty bottle in the garbage. “We’re almost done.”
“Good. The auction guy will be here soon.”
Jennifer stepped forward. “We need to talk to you alone.”
“About family business that’s none of theirs,” Brandi said, gesturing to Tim and Deacon.
“Nice try,” Deacon drawled. “Any family business will be handled by Molly’s attorney from here on out.”
“You’ve just completely taken over her life, haven’t you?” Jennifer said.
“Nope. Molly can take care of herself. I just ride shotgun and don’t let anyone run roughshod over her.”
Tim snickered.
“Whatever. We’ll be in the barn taking inventory.”
“I guess we’re done here.” Molly stood and slapped the dust off her hands. “I need to wash up before I leave.”
The mood was more subdued as Molly walked through the house one last time. Deacon would’ve left her alone, but he didn’t trust her cousins not to ruin this moment for her too.
Finally she reached for his hand and said, “Let’s go.”
Tim was waiting for them in the driveway. His focus was entirely on Molly. “You okay?”
“It’s surreal to think this is the last time I’ll be here.” She shook off her melancholy. “Would you like to have supper with us since we’re leaving in the morning?”