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“I can’t promise that.” Bran chuckled as he walked away. “Love is in the air,” he sang as he walked upstairs.
With a roll of his eyes, Beckett answered the door, pleased that Santee had kept his word. “Hey, beautiful.”
The blush that spread across Santee’s face drove Beckett wild.
Santee fidgeted with the sleeves of his shirt, as if unsure of what to do with his hands. “Hi,” he said softly, his gaze focused on Beckett’s chest.
Beckett smiled warmly and reached out to gently lift Santee’s chin, encouraging him to meet his gaze. “You look good,” he said, his voice soft and sincere.
Santee’s blush deepened, and he ducked his head again, mumbling a thanks.
Beckett chuckled and placed a hand on the small of his mate’s back, guiding him inside. “Come on in. I was just about to make some breakfast. You hungry?”
Finally, Santee met Beckett’s eyes without having to coax his mate to do so. “Are you sure Milly will let you?”
“I did leave the kitchen a mess yesterday.” Beckett guided Santee into the kitchen. “Someone I didn’t want to see showed up, and afterward, I needed to go for a run.”
Santee eyed him curiously but didn’t ask who Beckett was talking about.
“What’re you in the mood for? Just so you know, I’m awesome at scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast. Anything more complicated and we’ll have to go to the diner.”
“That sounds good,” Santee said a little too quickly. “I’m not a picky eater.”
Beckett smiled as he went about making breakfast. After taking a seat at the table, Santee watched him, his gaze following Beckett’s every movement.
Which made Beckett flex a little more as he tried to look like he knew what he was doing. He’d been seconds away from asking Milly to cook, but Santee had arrived sooner than Beckett had expected.
“Not a chance!” Milly said as she entered the kitchen, shooing Beckett away. Then she turned to Santee and smiled. “It’s so nice seeing you again.”
“It’s nice to see you, too,” Santee said. “Please don’t go out of your way to cook for me.”
“You’re wasting your breath,” Beckett whispered into Santee’s ear. Just the feeling of his mate’s warm breath on his ear made Santee shiver. “She spoils us rotten.”
“I’m not going out of my way,” Milly reassured Santee. “Why don’t you two go relax outside? I’ll let you know when the food is ready.”
“So much for wowing you with my cooking.” Beckett held his hand out, letting Santee decide whether or not he wanted to take it.
When his mate did, Beckett’s cheetah purred.
He still wanted to ask why Santee had taken off last night, but whether Beckett wanted to admit it or not, he was taking Bran’s advice.
Not that he’d ever tell Bran.
Beckett guided Santee to the gazebo his father had built over a decade ago. Inside were cushioned benches surrounding a table in the middle and just outside of the gazebo was a firepit.
Closing his eyes for a second, Beckett chased away thoughts of his parents. It still hurt too badly to think about them. There hadn’t been a day that went by that he didn’t miss them.
“Beckett?”
“Huh?” He looked at Santee.
“Are you okay?” Santee shoved his hands into his front pockets. “You just had this pained look on your face. We could do this another time if you’d prefer to be alone.”
“I’d prefer your company.” He took Santee’s hand and led him to one of the benches, where they both sat. Years ago, Beckett would sit in the gazebo with his dad, enjoying the weather and the conversation. Goddamn. Beckett rubbed his chest, willing those memories away.
Hayden had had a strained relationship with their father, but Beckett had worshiped the ground his dad had walked on. Duncan had been more of a mama’s boy, and Cormac had tried to walk in their dad’s footsteps, always acting as if had to keep his siblings in check instead of enjoying life.
“There you go again.” Santee stood. “I must’ve caught you at a bad time.”
