“I am as well.”
And I really was. At least I’d have a purpose again, even if it was just for one job.
We headed upstairs, Beck grinning the whole way. He was clearly proud of himself for hyping me, and I had to admit to being extremely grateful.
“Still coming in for a nightcap or too pooped?” he asked as we arrived at our rooms.
“I’m tired,” I admitted. “But doubt I can go right to sleep. Leave your door open,” I teased as Beck saluted. Somehow, as I entered the room, small but lovely and quaint, that quip had felt different. Beck and I had a years-long history of him “hitting” on me, and me turning him down or teasing back. But ever since Kitchi Falls… and then my kitchen… things had been off. It was suddenly hard not to notice him.
So what had changed?
Beck was still the playboy he’d been since girls started to notice him. I saw the way he’d talked to the women at the bar that first night in town. Every time I asked what he’d been up to or who he was dating these past few years, it was never the same name.
Unpacking, I pulled out my yoga pants and tee and headed to the shower just as the adjoining door unlocked. I held my breath, but nothing happened. I told him to unlock it, so why was I standing, frozen, as if some portal to another world had just been opened?
Making my way to the shower, pleasantly surprised by the scented body wash, having forgotten my own, my mind wandered to the next room. Beck was likely showering right now too. I could picture him slicking his hair back with both hands like he did, exposing every inch of his face. What made him so good-looking, anyway? His jaw line? Lips? Or was it Beck’s eyes? He’d never been shy at holding eye contact, something I’d noticed way back in high school.
Unbidden, a thought of the rest of Beck popped into my head.
He, Cole and Mason had been trying to one-up each other in the physique department for as long as I could remember, and the friendly competition had benefited all three of them.
Swallowing, trying to push the thought of naked Beck from my mind, I turned off the shower and dried myself.
It was his smile.
That plus Beck’s confidence was what made him so attractive. It also didn’t hurt that, unlike most of the world, I knew the guy inside who carried wounds he rarely let anyone see. Everyone else knew him as the slick bartender, as smooth with a tossed bottle as he was picking up women. But I knew him as the one who plugged me on the news… who may have gotten me a connection here by singing my praises.
Leaving my hair wet and loose so it could air dry, I made my way back to the room, grabbed the two glasses and bottle of wine and stood in front of the adjoining door, pausing.
This is silly. It’s just Beck.
Knocking first, I pushed the door open and called in.
“Are you decent?”
“No, but come in anyway.”
I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to be true or not, but as I stepped inside, zero percent of me was surprised to see him fully dressed in sweats and a white tee.
“You’re ridiculous. Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“I forgot a wine opener. I swear I was so focused on the festival I left half my stuff at home. No body wash, no toothpaste and now no wine opener.”
“No body wash? Eww.”
I rolled my eyes. “I used the inn’s, you ass.”
“I suppose you can borrow my toothpaste,” he said, reaching for the wine bottle. “Gimme that.”
What the hell was he going to do with it without an opener?
“I can ask?—”
“I got it,” he said, picking up his sneaker.
“What in the ever-living hell are you doing?” I asked as Beck made his way into the bathroom. I followed.
