Theelevator was empty, thank God. She raised an eyebrow. “Are you mad?”
“Howmany fucking pools did they have to choose from? And they crash ours?”
Hereyes widened. “Well, there was certainly enough room for us all, and hottubbing is a social thing.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Therobe had parted just enough that the amplified swell of her breasts flashedhim. Not helping. “Besides, I thought Beckett Miller enjoyed hanging outwith beautiful, scantily clad women.”
Hesnorted and pulled his hand through his wet hair. “A lot of people think a lotof things, but that doesn’t make them right.”
Sheshot him a curious look.
Back inthe condo, she dressed quickly and said she was tired. The normal responsewould have been to send her home. Truth was, he didn’t quite know how to lether go; he was equally unsure what to do with her. Confusion about chasing whathe wanted, especially when it came to women, wasn’t in his makeup, but likeeverything else with Andie, he was topsy-turvy, stumbling in a darkened maze,his hands flailing in front of him as he sought to steady himself. Sure, shewas no longer in a relationship, yet she straddled an invisible line: one footover the threshold of her marriage while the other was still firmly rooted inplace. It wasn’t the right time—not if he wanted her planted in a relationshipwith him.
In theend, he took her home himself, keeping his mouth zipped for fear whatever cameout would sound wrong.
When hecrawled between his sheets that night, it occurred to him he couldn’t remember whatany of the hot tub girls looked like, though Andie’s every contour was etchedin his mind. It also occurred to him he was treading water in an unchartedswamp of uncertainty. Spending time with Andie, in person or on the phone, hadmorphed into his favorite thing to do, and it beat run-ins at bars, hookups atclubs, and getting laid by strangers. Hands down.
Whichutterly baffled him.
But ifhe could have his way, being with her would include a private hot tuband her in that white suit. Or out of it. Which is what he pictured when he hadan impromptu hookup with his right hand a short while later.
.~ * * * ~.
Paige poured herself a glass of wine, her second sinceBeckett had left her at her doorstep. She was trying to puzzle out his oddbehavior, and it was too late to call Gwenn, so it was up to her and OZVZinfandel to solve the mystery.
They’dargued, actually argued, about him taking her home. “No Ubers. It’s not safe,”he’d insisted. Yet all the way to her place, he’d said nothing. Just brooded.Maybe he’d hit on one of those girls and was pissed when the guys showed up?But there hadn’t been that vibe. The girls hadn’t seemed to know him. No, butthey obviously wanted to know him. And who could blame them? Paige hadnever seen a better cut man in her life.
The wayher body had reacted to him in trunks, the thoughts that had crawled around hermind, were cringe-worthy. Or at the very least, X-rated. She’d had topractically sit on her hands to keep them from running over his sculpted chest,his muscular shoulders, his ridged abdomen. And there she’d been,flabby-bellied and pudgy-thighed beside three gorgeous hardbodies with jewelryaccentuating their perfect navels. If she tried to wear something likethat, it would get swallowed up. Why, oh why, hadn’t she done more ab crunches?
MaybeBeckett was surly because he’d wanted to be with them but had been stuck withher. But she’d suggested he hang with them while she caught her Uber, and hisface had grown even stormier.
Whenhad Beckett turned grumpy? She whacked the heel of her hand against her temple.When I talked about Adrian. Beckett always got irritated when she talkedabout Adrian, as though he was the big brother wanting to beat anyone’s ass whomessed with little sister. Or was it something more than that?
Ha!Don’t kid yourself.
Wouldshe want Beckett if she could have him? She gulped her wine. Remarkable bodyand mind-melting good looks aside, he had a host of lovable qualities, likelaughing at himself. In spite of his woes, he always found something to jokeabout, and he made her laugh, often without even trying. He was just … Beckett.All energy, full of ideas that bounced around his head like ping-pong balls.Like an overgrown puppy.
“UnlikeAdrian, I bet he wouldn’t avoid the bedroom like his man parts were toosacred to use,” she muttered aloud. Tingles ran up and down her spine as shepondered said man parts.
Ohmy God! What am I thinking? Of course he wouldn’t. He’s a manwhore! I cannotfall for Beckett Miller. Stop it!
Incollege, his presence had always set her tummy fluttering, though she neveradmitted it to anyone, including herself. Instead, she’d believed he gave herindigestion. She hadn’t wanted to like him, and pretending she wasn’tattracted to him hadn’t been too hard when she’d balanced his appealing traitswith his limited emotional range. But he’d changed in the last ten years. Hewas no longer conceited; maybe he never had been. He’d grown into someone shecould count as a good friend. She could tell him just about anything—except howhe sometimes made her weak-kneed when his eyes sparkled with a smile or whenshe daydreamed about his sinful mouth on hers. Or when he pulled his shirt offbeside a hot tub.
Paigethrew back the rest of her wine and padded to bed, thoughts of six-packs andbroad shoulders capering through her head.
.~ * * * ~.
For the first time in his life, Beckett lamented that theWorld Series would soon be over. And it had nothing to do with baseball.
“Who doyou pick for the championship?” Andie asked on the phone as they waited for thestart of game one. He was back in Chicago, missing Denver—and her—more thanever. Fortunately, she never asked why he’d gotten his nose out of joint thatnight at his place. He wasn’t completely sure himself, except that theirprivate moment had been hijacked by some idiot women and pricks eye-fucking hisgirl. Well, she wasn’t really his girl, but they hadn’t known that.Assholes.
Heignored
