We were dressed and almost out the door when Deacon checked his wallet then said he needed to go upstairs to get some money.

I told him he didn’t.

He told me he did.

More words were said.

This brought us to now.

“We’re havin’ words, woman, don’t make yours sarcastic,” Deacon returned, his voice getting growly and not in the good way.

But he was right. There was no need for that, ever.

“You’re right,” I conceded. “But the point is still valid.”

“I’m eatin’ your food, sleepin’ under your roof, and buyin’ your gutters,” he declared.

I got his point.

I just didn’t agree with it.

“You’re also putting them up.”

“Yep. I’m doin’ that too,” he confirmed.

“Deacon—”

He cut me off to ask, “Fuck, can you argue about anything?”

The answer to that question was yes.

I didn’t give him that answer.

I asked, “Can’t you see where I’m coming from?”

He stated the obvious. “No.”

I moved closer to him, taking away a foot of the four that separated us in my foyer.

“I’m uncomfortable with allowing you to pay for something that expensive.”

“They’re not expensive,” he returned. “And I’m uncomfortable with a woman keeping me.”

I leaned back in surprise.

“I do my bit,” Deacon finished.

“Your bit is putting them up.”

“How about I decide what my bit is, not my woman deciding for me.”

It occurred to me right then that we’d hit the Badass Zone, a zone that was not simply the un-capitalized badass zone I was normally in with Deacon. A zone that needed capitalization. A zone I’d never been in. A zone I realized belatedly was a zone where I should tread cautiously.

So I did that.

“On a scale of one to ten, how important is this?” I queried.

“Me doin’ my bit so I don’t feel like you’re keepin’ me?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Eighty-five.”

I took in a deep breath and let it out suggesting, “How about you pay for the groceries when we go to the store?”

His brows snapped together in a way that I’d never seen from him before.

It was a way that was a little scary.

“Are you shittin’ me?” he bit out.

“Uh…” I trailed off, thinking the answer to that was yes, even when it was no.

“When I take another job, after it’s done, am I comin’ back here?” he demanded to know.

“I hope so,” I replied.

“And when I take a job after that, where do you want me to be when I’m done?”

His point was dawning on me.

“Here,” I answered.

“Here in cabin eleven, me payin’ to be there, or here in this house with you?”

My tone softened. “Obviously here in this house, honey.”

“Now, do you see where I’m comin’ from?” he pushed.

“How about we go halfsies?” I suggested.

Deacon looked to the ceiling.

I took that as a no.

“It was just a suggestion,” I muttered.

He looked back to me. “You want diamonds and pearls, you got it. You want to fly to Paris, I’ll have to swing a passport, but I’ll do it and you got that too. You want anything and I got it in me to give it to you, I’ll give it to you. But that is not this. This is day-to-day, give and take, me takin’ care of you, you takin’ care of me. I get you got it in you to take care of yourself. You showed me that for six years. What you gotta get is that, if we want this to work, you gotta budge on that and give me my shot at doin’ it ’cause I’m the type of man who’s got that in me in a way there is no other way I can be.”

His words made me feel warm and squishy, but this conversation was too important to leave it at that.

“I can do that,” I allowed. “But there has to be compromise.”

“Yeah, I suck at cooking mostly ’cause I hate that shit. You’re fuckin’ great at it. You take that on, after years of fast food, I’ll be eternally grateful and put up new gutters on every fuckin’ cabin at Glacier Lily.”

“It seems I get more out of that than you do.”

“Obviously you haven’t eaten garbage for ten years.”

This was again intriguing.

And again, Deacon didn’t give more.

I didn’t push it.

I gave in.

“All right. You pay for the gutters but only if you let me help you put them up and on the added condition that if something like this ever comes up again, we have a discussion. You don’t catapult me into the Badass Zone, take over, and make the decisions for both of us.”

“The Badass Zone?”

“A zone you live in constantly. A zone I live in when I’m with you. It becomes capitalized and I visit it when you establish badass boundaries, so, FYI, it’s the zone we’re in right now.”

A smile spread on his face even as his lips ordered, “Here.”

“See?” I stated, lifting a hand to point at his mouth. “Badass Zone.”

He crossed his arms on his chest.

“Just to say,” I continued, dropping my hand. “I’m not only argumentative, I’m ornery and stubborn. If you want to have a badass stand-off, I should warn you, as badass as you are, there’s still a very good chance you’ll lose.”

I finished my declaration on a startled cry because Deacon lunged, nabbed my hand, and stepped back, sending me sailing into him. I was still dealing with colliding with his long, hard frame when his arms wound around me and his mouth crushed down on mine.

He kissed me with tongue and he did it deep.

When he lifted his head, he murmured, “Funny, feels like winning.”

And again, he was not wrong.

* * * * *

“Okay, Milagros,” I said into the phone. “See you later.”

“Hasta luego, Cassidy,” she said back then I heard her disconnect.

I put the phone down on the arm of my Adirondack chair and tangled my feet with Deacon’s on the railing.

Deacon didn’t object.

I fought the grin that caused and asked, “You cool with dinner tomorrow at Milagros and Manuel’s?”

“Said I was when you asked me when you were talkin’ to her,” Deacon noted.

“Yes, but I was talking to her when I asked,” I replied. “Now’s your chance to get out while you can.”