“What time? I don’t think you said.”
“Six, if it works.”
It’s already four because I’ve officially spent another trip around the Earth doing nothing, trying to forget all the things Ihavedone and not cry. “Sounds good.”
Before making the fifteen-minute drive to Beck’s place, I stop by the grocery store and get a few things so that if Jett goes down early, I can cook some stuff for my friend to eat throughout the week as she prepares for the soft opening of her studio.
With my plastic bag full of quinoa salad ingredients (and a Diet Coke splurge item for me), I make my way up the driveway, heading toward the walkway that connects to the front porch. It’s when I’m already waiting for them to answer my knock that I realize there’s a truck here, too.
A white Chevy sitting low to the ground, the bed long and ominous, like maybe bodies have been in there before. Well, okay, maybe not that part. But with the blacked-out windows and the chrome detail, the truck makes the skin on the back of my neck grow pebbled and sweaty.
Beck opens the door and behind her in the living room, knees spread as he eats up the majority of the couch, one meaty arm draped over the back–is Atticus.
My heart sinks a little because if he’s here, that means they don’t think I can babysit Jett alone.They. As in, when Beck was single, I was a good enough babysitter for her. I was good enough to live in the disgusting hospital with her for three fucking days. But now that Beau’s part of the picture, he judges me. Clearly. No matter how sweet and cool he is to me, he clearly doesn’t think I’m up for it.
Do I need to mention this at my interview later this week?Got canned from her PR job and also cannot be trusted at her babysitting job.
“Why ishehere?” I ask, keeping my voice as low as I can, but it's surprisingly hard. I’m angry and offended and maybe, just maybe, projecting my self-loathing on anyone I can. I saidmaybe.
“Beau doesn’t trust me to watch Jett?” Okay, I guess we’re getting right into it.
“What?” Her brows dip, and the confusion that wrinkles her face is so organic, immediately I feel like an asshole. A huge one. She is seriously caught off guard by my question… or uh, I guess you could call it an accusation. God, I suck.
“He’s here because Beau and I both tried to find someone to watch Jett since it was last minute. And he talked to Atti when I talked to you.” She looks down at the grocery bag hanging limply from my grip, then back to me. “Come in. Cook what you’re going to cook. Don’t be upset. He can go if he wants to.”
I know she just totally mommed me by using her calm parenting voice and giving me small bites of an easy, palatable solution, but I don’t care that it worked. I feel better. Some of my prickliness has recessed back inside myself, back to only hurting me. And I believe it wasn’t on purpose. But how terrifying is it that I’m so miserable I was willing to completely vilify Beau in a split second when all he’s been to my best friend is good? My eyes burn with embarrassment and shame, but fortunately, Beck is already leading me inside.
“Hey, Goldie,” Beau’s voice wraps around me before his arms, which come next. His hug is tight and brief, and I love how his arms immediately go around Beck, draping them over her chest from behind in a clasp of tender ownership. My stomach turns on itself like angry waves lapping in a wild sea.I want that.I want that connection, but I don’t deserve it. I’d probably convince him his hobbies were stupid and make him wear clothes he isn’t comfortable in–that’s whathesaid to me.“You always wanted to change me, and I just wanted to have fun.”Ugh.
“Hey,” my voice is hoarse as I respond, but I put on my signature smile, and they both return it. “Have a good time tonight, whatever you’re doing.” I glance over my shoulder to see Atticus watching me intently in a way that somehow makes me angry and makes my pussy pulse. Probably because he’s so large. Just… muscle on top of strength, bulk, and power… My mouth goes dry as I convince myself that, yes,that’s all it isthat has my lower half in a frenzy.
His size.
I bet his cock is a fucking monster.
My gaze snaps back to Beck and Beau, and I force that signature smile again. I’m afraid if I don’t, they’ll see the guilty look all over my face. I do not need to be thinking of that man and his big, probably dirty cock.
Okay, okay.He probably keeps his cock clean. Hell, with a body like that, I’m sure he is flicking women off of him like blood-hungry mosquito whore bags. Why does the thought of a woman coming onto him make me want to fume?
Beck runs through Jett’s nighttime routine, but Beau gives me a little wink that says, “I know you’re literally going to do exactly what you want anyway, and it’s cool.” A lot to say in a wink, but I swear he says it. After hugs and a baby pass-off, they go.
Atticus, on the other hand, does not.
In the process of Beck and Beau leaving, I didn’t say a word about Atticus staying. I felt so bad about the front porch scene that I couldn’t bring myself to ask Beck to have him leave. And he didn’t make a single effort to go.
I don’t think he wants to be here, but I think he’s just enough of an asshole that he will stay just to spite me.
Yep.
I mean, wouldIhave left? Hell, the fuck no.
I turn, Jett pressed to me as he gets sleepy in my arms, and glare across the small living room. Atticus blinks, completely unaffected by my wrath. Attempted wrath. Maybe it wasn’t as potent as I thought. I haven’t been giving the stink eye here in Oakcreek nearly as often as I did in the city.
The city did have a lot of creeps. I guess that part I don’t miss.
I just have one creep to deal with right now.
Okay… maybe he’s not a creep. But maybe he is? I don’t really know. He seems to be a good friend to Beau, and I know he’sone hell of a mechanic–Beau’s words, obviously. Those are good things. But even serial killers drop change into the Salvation Army bucket at Christmas time.