Liars (Licking Thicket 2)

It was harder still, in a way, because it hadn’t felt like lying. For a few blissful seconds here and there, it would feel like all my dreams had come true—Marigold in my arms, Diesel standing behind me—and then it would all come crashing down anytime a well-meaning townsperson asked us a question about the future.

After we’d gotten home, Diesel had taken Marigold out into the yard without a word, and I’d gone immediately to the kitchen, grateful for the chance to regroup. I felt a hundred times better now, but it didn’t seem to have worked for Diesel, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Marigold gasped, and I turned my head to watch her watching a butterfly flit across the grass. She seemed fascinated.

“A pipevine swallowtail,” I told Mari, leaning over Diesel’s lap so I could speak softly in her ear. “Isn’t it pretty? Those are my favorite.” It felt kinda symbolic that one had appeared right now.

I took a deep breath, sat up straight, and summoned a teasing smile. “Hey, did you know that you have no meat in your house? Like, none. Not in the fridge, and not even a pack of bacon thrown in your freezer?”

Diesel scraped his teeth over his bottom lip. “Yeah, I know. The thing is…”

“You go through it like crazy,” I guessed. “I’m not criticizing! You have plenty to keep on top of. Remind me to get some stuff tomorrow after we’re done with the lawyers, okay? I can prep some stuff for the freezer.”

Diesel took a deep breath, like he was getting ready to say something, but then let it out in a rush. “That’s really sweet, babe. Thank you.”

I smiled and rubbed his knee softly. “Of course. This is a stressful time. We need to take care of ourselves and each other. We’re a team, right? Team Marigold?”

Diesel smiled. “Team Marigold.”

“Right. And speaking of Her Highness…” I nodded at Miss Thing, who rubbed her eyes tiredly. “I think someone’s ready for bed.” I stood and dusted off the back of my shorts before picking her up.

“You’ll take care of the girly while I take care of the girls?” Diesel said. “Deal.”

It didn’t take me long to get Mari in her favorite jammies—okay, fine, my favorite jammies for her, but I was pretty sure she’d say they were her favorite too, if she were capable of expressing a preference—and put her down with her chicken passie. She was tired enough that she drifted off without a fuss, and I made my way back out to the kitchen to find Diesel standing by the table. He’d gotten the rice out of the warmer and set it on the table.

He’d also gotten the candle out of the cabinet and lit it.

I swallowed. “Wow. Nice.” It was the understatement of the century. One little candle should not make my heart gallop the way it did.

“Wind’s whipping up,” Diesel said gruffly, his eyes on a spot somewhere over my shoulder. “I figured, good to know where a candle is, just in case, right?”

“Ah.” I nodded. “Spoken like a true Camper Scout.”

“Which I was, back in the day. For a few years anyway.” He grinned. “Got my preparedness merit badge and everything.”

“Sexy.”

“Yep. That’s primarily why I did it,” Diesel said blandly. “Even at age seven, I knew someday my knot tying and planning skills would get me laid.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Now it’s all finally coming to fruition. Wait until I tell you about my carpentry merit badge.”

I giggled and my heart soared. I had no idea what had changed so suddenly, but seeing him look so much lighter and more confident made me feel lighter too.

I sat down at the little square table, and Diesel sat beside me. He actually did tell me about his carpentry badge as we ate and how he’d transferred those skills into making the Pullet Palace for the girls, which was really fun. We segued into talking about his tattoos too, which was endlessly fascinating to me. I would’ve happily sat there all night while he told me the story of each and every piece on his body.

“I’m boring you, aren’t I?” Diesel said eventually, and I shook my head wildly. The man had no clue how badly I wanted him to open up to me.

“You couldn’t possibly be boring ever. Tell me more. Which one was the first?”

“Uh. The one on my shoulder blade.” He pointed over his shoulder. “The sunflower. That was for Beth. Sunflowers and marigolds were always her favorite when we were kids, so that was my way of remembering her.” He shrugged. “I guess all of the tats are memories, in a way. Some happy, some cautionary tales. People don’t stick around, but these guys are permanent.” He patted the bird on his collarbone fondly, and his eyes found mine. “You know, Parrish, you and I—”