Deacon was disappointed when Molly said, “Aye-aye,” but didn’t salute.

In Molly’s old room, Deacon noticed the twin bed had been stripped. A cheap pressboard desk and an old metal chair were shoved against the wall. A battered chest of drawers anchored the opposite end of the room. No posters or plaques adorned the walls. “Did your room always look like this?”

“Jennifer and Brandi wrecked anything nice, so after a while I didn’t bother making it personal.”

“It sucks that not even this was a private space for you growing up.”

“Makes me appreciate the freedom to decorate however I want—even with flowers and lace and shit.”

“Hilarious.”

She checked the closet and every dresser drawer. “This room is done. Guest bedroom is next.”

Deacon hauled in the garbage can, but the room was already sparse. A double bed, a dresser, and a bentwood rocker. He leaned against the doorjamb, watching Molly rifle through the contents of the drawers and dump everything into the trash.

The two plastic tubs she’d designated for keepsakes were both empty.

“What can I do? I’m just standing around.”

“Take down the curtains?”

That killed four minutes.

“Now what?”

“A big, strong man like you could probably lift that bed frame with one hand.”

Deacon did just that.

Laughing, she yanked out the oval rug beneath the metal feet. “Be still my heart.”

He snagged her around the waist and pulled her close.

“What?”

“Gimme that mouth.” Her lips parted on a soft sigh, which he caught as he kissed her. Normally he wasn’t a kissing guy, but being mouth-to-mouth with her punched all his buttons.

The stairs creaked and she broke the kiss. “Stop tempting me away from work.”

He smirked. “Not sorry.”

“I know. Make yourself useful.” She pointed to the garbage. “Take that out and dump it.”

Deacon was in the kitchen when he heard the front door open. A male voice called out, “Molly?”

Fast footsteps sounded above his head. “Omigod, Tim? Is that really you?”

“In the flesh, baby.”

Molly let out a happy shriek.

What the hell? Deacon moved to the open doorway and watched as Molly flew down the steps and launched herself at another man.

“I can’t believe you’re here!”

“I came as soon as I heard. Sorry I missed the funeral.” Then he planted his mouth on hers in a really fucking far-from-friendly kiss.

Then Mr. Soon-to-Be-Bleeding framed Molly’s face in his hands and spoke softly to her.

Jennifer sidled up next to him. “Why the angry look, Deacon? Surely since you and Molly are involved, you know all about Tim.”

“Who is he?”

“Her best friend from high school. They were constantly together. She mooned over him like a lovesick calf. I think he dated her out of pity. But now that she’s not such a porker . . . maybe you’d better watch your back.”

“Maybe you’d better watch your mouth, because you don’t know a fucking 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, motherfucker.

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-fucking-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.”