Jules nearly spit out her drink. Giving her a hard stare, I turned to Beck, who was joining me behind the bar. It had been a bad idea to spill the beans to Jules. She could barely keep a straight face.
“You met with the printer already?”
He jumped right in, refilling a customer’s beer without missing a beat.
“Yep. It won’t be ready until Saturday morning at eight, but that should be plenty of time. If we’re at the park by eight thirty, that gives us two and a half hours of setup.”
I’d have preferred to be there sooner, but it would have to do. We’d have a lot of the prep work done already, so as long as we were set up by ten thirty, I’d feel comfortable.
“Hey, Jules.” Beck slid past me as she introduced him to Boo.
Only one thing had saved my sanity this week. The distraction of figuring out why my feelings for Beck were complicated as hell had overshadowed my desire to wallow in the black hole that was my life plan. Late this morning, while contemplating Beck’s words from Sunday for the umpteenth time, it hit me. I hadn’t thought of Mathieu once today. It was a far cry from tossing and turning all night only to wake up, unrefreshed, to stare at the ceiling and think of him some more. Run through the disastrous dinner that changed everything, again. Wonder how I could have been so blind to his narcissistic tendencies, again.
With me, there’s only pleasure.
“You-hoo? Earth to Mae?”
Beck waved his hand in front of my face. He looked good in navy blue. Always had.
“Sorry, was just thinking of all the things we have to do before Saturday,” I lied.
“I’m meeting the suppliers tomorrow morning. If there’s anything we can’t get or are missing, I’ll grab it before heading in.”
“I can do that,” I said. “You’ve done so much.”
“No such thing. We’re a team. Like Tom and Jerry.”
I laughed, about to counter that Tom and Jerry were not a team. They were, in fact, enemies. But that was exactly what he wanted me to say. Beck’s favorite pastime was goading people.
“Not playing right into your hands,” I said instead.
A look flitted across his face, so brief, I could have imagined it. Except, I hadn’t. I may not have had the vast experience Beck had with the opposite sex, but I knew enough to be able to decipherthatlook.
I smiled as if I’d won our little battle of wits, but honestly, that round went to Beck. I could feel a fluster making its way to my cheeks and slapped him on the chest with the rag in my hands to cover for it. Then, promptly heading back to Jules, I ignored the fact that Beck was behind me. Talking to a customer. Looking hotter than hell.
“So that’s the famous Beck?” Boo asked. “Jules did a good job of describing him.”
He’d moved from the bar to the floor. Not that I noticed.
“What did she tell you?”
“She said he was hot, if you liked a cross between surfer dude and Ralph Lauren model type of guy.”
That was a fairly accurate description of him, actually.
“But that he knew it, wasn’t cocky exactly but didn’t turn away from attention. And he got lots of it. And also funny, but with a chip on his shoulder about his family who are filthy rich. Something along those lines.”
It was all true. But I knew a Beck most didn’t. He was also extremely intelligent and more thoughtful than he let on.
“Sounds about right.”
“And that the two of you are in the middle of a”—he cleared his throat—“rediscovery.”
“Big mouth.”
“As if Boo is going to say anything.”
“I wouldn’t call it so much of a rediscovery as…” What would I call it? “Maybe me having a midlife crisis.”
