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He’s frowning so much he looks like he has a six-pack on his forehead. And for some reason I might never fathom, I start giggling. Why am I giggling? Guilt? Distraction? If so, it isn’t working. That six-pack on his brow is now an eight-pack. It’s the most impressive frown I’ve ever seen. ‘I know about the map,’ I blurt out, letting my arms drop to my side, exasperated. I can’t keep it to myself. It’ll drive me potty. And anyway, no secrets. That’s what he said.
I feel the stress alleviate as a result of my confession. It’s probably a premature feeling, given Becker hasn’t shown any reaction yet. His forehead is still keeping close company with that eight-pack.
Then it vanishes from his face. ‘I know.’ He slips his hands into his pockets, lowering his chin as if waiting for more, but he goes on when I don’t give him anything else. I have nothing else to give. He knows I know? ‘You’ve traced it, licked it.’ He’s being suggestive, and it’s having the desired effect. I cross my legs in my standing position, rolling my eyes. ‘Played guess the country on it,’ he adds.
It’s almost like he’s speaking in code, telling me in his own little way that I shouldn’t push any further. ‘I’ve done none of those things on the original,’ I murmur. There will be no silent mutual agreement here. I know, and I’m not going to pretend that I don’t. What does it matter, anyway? The map’s the map, whether on his back or on paper.
‘I see.’ He definitely looks nervous now, and I start to mull over why that might be while Becker watches me like a hawk.
He told me it was somewhere safe but made it equally clear that he wasn’t going to share where exactly that was. It didn’t matter, I already knew, but it would have saved this awkward moment had he told me. Besides, it’s not somewhere safe if little old me found it by accident. It’s also plastered all over his back. That’s a risk, especially considering how many women Becker has bedded. I wince at my stray thoughts.
‘How’d you find it?’ he asks.
‘I wasn’t looking.’
‘So how did you find it?’
‘When I was sorting the shelves,’ I explain, uneasy under his interrogating presence. ‘My hand caught the latch and before I knew it—’
‘You’d reached in, pulled the lever, opened the door, taken the book out, opened it, and found the map?’
I swallow. It sounds wrong when he says it like that, but that’s pretty much the crux of it. ‘Yeah.’ I can’t shirk him. He has me pinned, and I practically handed him the hammer and nail. ‘I won’t tell anyone.’
‘I know.’
‘Then why are you looking at me like you want to eradicate that risk?’
A smile breaks from nowhere, throwing me for a hoop. ‘I knew you’d found it, Eleanor.’ He takes a step towards me, and I instinctively retreat.
‘How?’
‘I could smell your perfume on the wood.’
‘Are you serious?’ Like a twat, I bring my wrist to my nose and sniff.
‘Plus you didn’t engage the catch just so.’ Becker raises his eyebrows. ‘If you’re going to be my girlfriend, princess, you need to work on your sleuth skills.’
‘Fuck off, Hunt,’ I retort, full of indignation. Goddamn me, I thought I hid my tracks well.
He chuckles. ‘I would have told you, had I not known you’d found it. But you did. So I didn’t.’
‘Really?’ I ask.
‘Yeah. Because loving is trusting, right?’
My mouth goes slack, dropping open as I regard him. ‘You showed me the secret entrance to The Haven weeks ago.’
‘I guess I was trusting you before I realised I was in love with you.’
My thudding heart skips a few beats, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip. ‘God, you’re adorable sometimes.’ I say, moving in and hugging him as he laughs. All of my striving for a happy-medium place where work and personal are defined and understood just isn’t going to work. I reach up on my tiptoes to sink my face into his neck, syphoning off the warmth of his skin.
‘This isn’t very professional,’ Becker mumbles into my shoulder, keeping his hands to himself.
‘Shut up.’
‘Okay.’ He quickly seizes me and lifts me to his chest, squeezing the life out of me.
We feel free and easy right now, but would I be a fool to assume that this is it, that this is how it’ll always be? Becker’s inexperience and his self-admission, the one that sees him immune to heartbreak, have a small space in the back of my mind. I’ll never break his heart. I just fear what preventive measures he’ll take in order to eliminate the risk completely.
‘Gramps doesn’t know about that hiding place,’ he says out of the blue.
‘Oh . . .’ Of course he doesn’t. If Mr H knew where the map was, he’d have given it to the museum himself. ‘And you don’t want him to know because he’ll get rid of it.’
