Chapter Eleven

Jenna

There were quite possibly a thousand places I would have rather been right in this moment than sitting on my parents' patio with five other older women from the DAR.

"Who is going to coordinate, though?" I heard Betty ask. Betty was one of my mother's closest friends and lived for the DAR.

A newcomer suggested, "Perhaps my daughter can do it. She's still in undergrad, but she's going into event management and this would look great on her resume."

My mother cleared her throat. "I don't think that's the best idea. You've never been to one of our events and neither has she. These are important functions. People expect them to be a certain way."

Before this could turn into something it wasn't supposed to be, I tried to get the conversation back on track. "Event coordinator aside, we have other problems, like how we can't get an adequate venue to host that many people and on such short notice. We really didn't leave ourselves many options by picking such a close date. I have an idea. What if we do it here, Mother?"

She beamed as if I gave her the greatest compliment in the world, which to her I probably just did. "Why, I think that's a marvelous idea!"

I nodded, pleased with myself. "Thank you. You—"

"And you'll host it," she continued as if I wasn't speaking.

I nearly choked on my own saliva. Suddenly my mouth was very dry. "Wha— I'm sorry, what?"

"It's settled, then," Betty decided, moving right past my aneurism.

"No, I can't possibly—" my words fell on deaf ears, though.

My mother ended the meeting. "Thank you all for coming. I'd say this was another successful meeting."

Not exactly how I'd put it.

She stood and ushered the ladies out.

When everyone was gone, I picked up my pink lemonade and took a sip, still reeling from her declaration.

Before I could enjoy any more of it, though, and with my mouth still on the straw, she grabbed the glass from me and I nearly spilled it on myself. Thankfully, there was a napkin in my lap.

"You don't need the added sugar," she said by way of explanation.

I rolled my eyes and went for it again. "I think I'll take my chances."

Unrelenting, she pulled it away, and called Greta's name, who showed up in an instant. "Can you please take this to the kitchen?"

Greta took the glass and left. I had to wonder why she couldn't be like the other housekeepers my mother had in the past—slow.

When my mother sat back down, she glared at me with an eerie look and I nearly shivered even though it was hotter than the underworld out and I was wearing a sleeveless blouse. "What now, Mother?"

"Nothing," she said, still beaming. "I'm just so happy you'll be working on this event. It'll be wonderful," she gushed, but it felt just a tad bit forced.

"You know, you really should have asked me before volunteering me to coordinate this event."

"I'll do it with you, dear," she said, as though that was a comforting thought. It wasn't.

"I have enough on my plate at work. Dad's not going to want me pulled in a million different directions."

She rolled her eyes. "You can be so dramatic, Jenna. It's just one little party. I'll help and it'll practically plan itself. You'll see. It'll be an opportunity for us to get closer, really bond."

"Sure," was all I could manage because I had no idea what she was thinking. She had never really wanted me to be close to her, more like wanted me to do everything she said when she said it.

"In fact, I have a marvelous idea," she announced. "I think you'll like it, too."

"Why do I doubt it? Usually your ideas give me hives."

"Funny," she replied. "But, no, this might be the best one yet."

"Let's hear it, then." I crossed one leg over the other and bounced my foot in the air.

Before she could enlighten me, Greta came back and interrupted, "Is there anything else you need from me, Mrs. McAllister?"

My mother's gaze turned steely. "Don't you see my daughter and I are having a conversation?"

"Yes, but I'm supposed to pick my son up from school and take him to a doctor's appointment today, so I wanted to make sure you didn't need anything before I left."

"Yes," she said in her usual matter-of-fact way, "I need you to stay."

Greta frowned. "You told me this morning I could leave early."

"That was this morning, Greta. This is now and things have changed. I have an event to plan and I'm really going to need you to stay."

Having considered her word final, she looked away, back in my direction.

"It's just—" Greta started, head shaking in complete confusion.

At her words, Mother turned back around and eyed her. "Now what?"

Greta stood her ground, though. "I'm sorry. I have to leave."

I wanted so badly to stick up for Greta, but it wasn't going to do either of us any good, so I kept my mouth shut, as I did many times before around my mother. It was better that way, I knew.

"Then you're fired." My mother crossed her arms. "You don't need to return when you're done and you can do whatever you like this afternoon."

Greta looked horrified. "Please. I need this job."

"Obviously not enough." Silence filled the air for a little too long for my mother's liking because she demanded again, "Leave. You're no longer welcome in my home."

Greta tilted her head down and walked out.

"Did you have to be so harsh?" I asked, getting up, ready now more than ever to leave.

"She has a job to do and she wasn't doing it." She looked quite satisfied with herself and her decision.

"No, Mother, she was leaving early to pick up her son for a good reason."

She scoffed. "That doesn't make a difference. If you don't do your job, you get fired. That's how these things go."

I couldn't believe this. I couldn't stand sharing the same air with her for one more second. "Well, this has been fun, Mother," I lied, "but I really do have to be going."

"You're leaving?" she asked as though she was shocked I'd want to leave.

I exhaled and rubbed my forehead. "Yes. I have to go."

"Don't you want to finish our conversation?"

Ah, yes. Her brilliant idea. "What is your idea?" I asked, remembering where we left off. "You might as well just get on with it because I need to be going." Need, desperately wanted to, what difference did it make?

"Bring Deacon to the event."

My eyeballs nearly popped out of my head. When I found my tongue again, I insisted, "No, that's not necessary."

Her expression was unchanging. "I'll be on my best behavior. I promise."

Even her best behavior wasn't good enough. "Why do you want him to come to a DAR event anyway?"

She shrugged. "If he's going to be in your life, then it'd be nice for him to see all of your life, don't you think?"

I knew that was a rhetorical question, so I didn't answer, just turned around to actually leave this time. "I'll think about it."

My back to her, I heard her call, "It wasn't a suggestion, Jenna."

That meant it was an order and I would be wise to do as she asked and invite Deacon. The truth was, I did want Deacon there with me, if only to make the night a little less insufferable. However, I did not want to give my family, specifically my mother, an opportunity to do something.

* * *

It'd been more than a few days since my mother volunteered me to plan the DAR event at her house and the day of the event was coming much faster than I could've hoped for. By my way of thinking, the sooner we got this over with, the better. I'd been spending way too much time with her these days and could only handle so much more before I lost my mind.

I had been putting in plenty of hours the past few days, juggling work and planning nicely. I also hadn't seen Deacon since he cooked me dinner, and I wasn't altogether sure how I felt about that, but it gave me the time I needed, so I wasn't complaining.

However, today was all for me. I spent some time outside getting some sun, doing my nails, and organizing my closet. It was exactly what I needed and I felt refreshed after my shower. I wore a hot pink slip dress and put my damp hair in a high ponytail, leaving some loose tendrils out. My face was makeup-free, already aglow from the sun I took in earlier. I felt good, excellent even.

Deciding I needed a snack, I went in the kitchen to plate up some carrots with dressing to satisfy my appetite. Sitting on one of my bar stools, flipping through my social feed, and biting down on a carrot, I was surprised to hear a knock on my door.

"It's open!" I hollered, putting my phone aside and swallowing before taking my next bite.

Next thing I knew, Deacon walked through in khakis and a white shirt and looked so muscular and oh-so-sexy. "You know," he started, closing the door behind him, but looking back at it. "It's not safe to keep your door unlocked or announce that it's open."

I was still chewing when I shrugged my shoulders, a reaction he clearly didn't like because he crossed his arms.

"I'm serious. What if it wasn't me?"

"But it was you," I pointed out. Then I added, "I never really leave it open and I won't ever again, okay?" I waited for his acknowledgment and moved on. "Now that we have that out of the way, you look sweaty. Do you want some iced tea?" I made my way over to the fridge and pulled out the pitcher I had prepared. "Here."

He took it and poured some in a glass. "It's roasting outside."

"Don't I know it. Got a nice little tan for myself today."

He smiled, looking at me and I felt my insides tingle a little at just that one look. "What have you been up to?" I asked.

He took a sip, more like chugged it really, before answering, "Just trying to get my life in order. I need a place of my own and to figure out what I want to do now that I'm back."

"Those aren't small things," I admitted. "Did you get anywhere with them?"

He laughed. "No. I have some options, but nothing that really speaks to me, if that makes any sense. I don't want to just fill my time, waiting for something better to come around. My brothers all found what they want and are happy, that's all I'm looking for."

I felt for him, I really did. It was a lousy feeling to be lost like that. "Can I help?"

He shook his head, settling onto the bar stool next to me. "No, I don't think so. I'm giving myself more time for now."

"Sounds sensible."

He picked up a carrot from my plate and took a bite. "How have you been? Any more surprise visitors?"

"Aside from you?" I joked. "No, thank goodness. I've been too busy to deal with any of that anyway. Between work and planning an event with my mother, I've been swamped."

He sucked in a deep breath. "That sounds bad. How did you get roped into that?" he asked sounding concerned.

I brushed it off because he really had no idea how ingratiated my parents were in my life. We hadn't really discussed any of that yet. Which was fine was by me, if I was being honest. "Long story, but the misery is almost over."

"That bad, huh?"

"Oh, no, it's all rainbows and sunshine," I jested. "You know, spending time with my mother is just like hanging out with one of my girlfriends. We talk for hours on end, go shopping together, and braid each other's hair."

He furrowed his brow. "Noted. I won't ask about it again," he said, ready to move on to other topics.

I heard my phone vibrating next to me and groaned, throwing my head back. "Every time we're together that phone rings. I swear, I'm going to chuck it out the window."

"Maybe it's something good. Answer it."

Doubtful, I turned the phone over and read the called ID—it was my mother. I showed it to him and pretended like I was tying a noose around my neck and strangling myself. He laughed. Glad I could amuse him.

In recent days we'd spent more time together than I could've ever imagined and by now the event was practically all set. What else could she need from me, I wondered.

"Hello?" I answered, rolling my eyes.

"Jenna, nice of you to answer."

"I always answer, Mother. What can I do for you?" Might as well get right down to it. She was calling for a reason and we both knew it, we were not a particularly chatty duo her and I, at least not with each other.

"Your sister is in town and she'll be coming to the event, too."

I sighed. "Noted." This was just what I needed. Not. My sister wasn't the most pleasant person, certainly not my favorite. We were not what I'd call close, not by any means.

Francesca was older than me, but I got all the expectations as she skated by most things in life because she married a rich, young doctor at eighteen and promptly popped out two kids and got a dog and house with a white-picket fence hundreds of miles away from our parents all before she was twenty-one. "Will she be visiting with her whole family?" If there was anyone I dreaded more than her, it was her husband.

"No. Now, I want to make sure I have the headcount right, so you will be bringing Deacon, correct?" she asked, as if it was even a question. We both knew it wasn't.

"Of course," I lied. I hadn't even told him about it yet, but knew that was the answer she wanted, so that was the answer she'd get. Anything to hang this phone up.

"Excellent. I'll see you both tomorrow at seven. Don't forget to dress nice," then promptly hung up.

As if we'd show up in our pajamas. Damn, she infuriated me. Frustrated, I quickly rubbed my forehead and blew outwardly. Eventually, I had to ask Deacon whether he would agree to come with me. I might as well ask now, since time wasn't slowing down and the event was happening whether or not I cared for it to.

He shifted uncomfortably next to me. It was like he could sense what was coming.

I put my head in my hands and prayed that just this one time my mother didn't have tricks up her sleeve and that I wouldn't regret bringing Deacon.

He began rubbing small circles on my lower back before pulling back quickly. I frowned, wondering why, but then thought better of it. "Sometimes I hate her," I admitted.

He gave me a knowing look. "I know," he said. "So what does she want?"

"I might have let it slip that you were back," I said grazing over the facts, "and now she wants me to bring you to a dinner event she's hosting tomorrow night."

I wouldn't have blamed Deacon if he told me to go to hell. Part of me hoped he would. It would've been easier, less terrifying than the alternative—having them share space again. It never worked when we were in high school, and I doubted very much that just because they both aged a bit, anything would be different now.

"Would I be your date then?" he asked, arching a brow, brushing a finger down my arm. "Because we haven't been out on a date since I've been back, not a real one anyway."

I cleared my throat. There was a distinct possibility I was going to regret encouraging him like this, but I swallowed and nodded my head. "If you'd like this to be a date, then so would I."

He stood up and shot a fist in the air. "Yes!"

I stood up and paced, not sure I liked his reaction. With a finger to my lips, I exhaled. "I don't know for how much longer I can say no to you, Deke. But you have to know this isn't like it was before. We're both different people now."

He walked over and closed the gap between us. He stared down into my eyes and looked at me intently before saying, "I know and I'm enjoying getting to know you again, but you have to understand that I know deep down you're still the same girl I knew and loved. You just need to remember that." My heart beat rapidly as he raised my chin with his finger and pressed his lips against mine.

He felt like home, his lips were just as soft and warm as they had always been.

His hand cupped my cheek and I leaned into his touch as I parted my lips slightly, allowing his tongue access. What was at first a gentle and tender kiss grew more quick and heady. Our bodies pressed together and I arched into him to feel him against me. I could feel his desire for me, the reaction I was having on him. I was having the same reaction to him.

"We've waited long enough," I confessed, my words rippling through the air and filling the room.

That was all he needed to hear. Things intensified and I couldn't hold back the moan that escaped my lips, driving him wild. His passion grew, his actions more possessive.

We didn't part ways as he backed me up and hoisted me on top of my kitchen counter, his lips never once stopping their descent down my body. I moaned in pleasure as his hand slipped under my dress, pulling down my panties and tossing them on the floor. I happened to have it on good authority that they were soaked. I had never wanted a man to touch me so badly. But I ached for him in ways I couldn't quite put into words.

I watched as he delicately touched me, then applied more pressure. "So wet. So ready for me." He inserted two fingers and I gasped and threw my head back as he began pumping inside of me. Once, twice, then harder and faster. I closed my eyes and arched my back.

"Open your eyes," he roughly demanded. "I want you to be watching when I make you come."

"Wait!" I urged breathlessly. "I want you inside of me when I come."

"My princess. So beautiful. And so demanding," he said, his voice husky with need, ready to give me everything I wanted and more.