His grin deepened. “Bingo.”
Something fluttered in my chest, impossible to ignore. Excitement. Elation. Hope, maybe?
“That’s fantastic.” Pia, the closest to him, hugged Beck. After a round of handshakes and congratulations, I finally made my way over to him. Hugging Beck felt both as natural as can be, but also, at the same time, strange and exciting.
“You sure you want this?” he whispered in my ear.
“Absolutely.” I let go, before wanting to. “I am so happy. My parents don’t know?”
I’d talked to my mother an hour ago, and she didn’t say anything about it.
“Not yet. I’ll call your dad tomorrow. But don’t say anything yet. I want to tell him.”
“No problem,” I said, about to go back across the island to my seat when Beck reached across and grabbed my wine, bringing it to me. Subtle, but also I was onto him. I gave him a look that told him as much.
“About time.” Parker sat on the stool I’d just vacated. With the smell of leftover chicken parmigiana, mixed with a vanilla coconut candle, the kitchen smelled like warmth, and love.
“That he stopped holding his dick-beater in his hands,” Mason quipped, “and is making something of his life? Damn straight.”
“Fuck off,” Beck tossed back.
Pia, Delaney and I shook our collective heads. When these guys got together, which was almost every day, they really were like a side-show comedy act. Guys could be incredibly immature, and frankly, dumb, sometimes. But there was an easy camaraderie among them too that was almost admirable.
Or, if nothing else, entertaining.
“Having fun?” Beck asked.
“I am.”
“Surprised?”
“Honestly? No. I was more surprised you hedged on it for so long. You’re a natural and are going to kill it as the new owner. I’m more excited than anything. For you, for my parents…”
“Glad to hear it.” Beck raised his chin. “It’s a very… mature, responsible decision. Wouldn’t you say?”
As the others conversed around us, Beck and I dropped back from the island to lean against the kitchen counter.
“Ahhh, so you had an ulterior motive?”
“Not really. I just needed to be kicked in the ass a bit.”
I smiled and took a sip of wine.
“Speaking of asses,” he said, leaning into my ear and whispering, “yours is looking exceptionally fine tonight.”
I nearly spit out the wine, which would have been a disaster since I was wearing a white sundress.
“Can you not wait until my mouth is full to say things like that?”
He watched me, but remained quiet.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting until after you take a sip, so I can talk.”
“Oh my God, you’re impossible. Another option is just not to say anything like that. Just a thought.”
I did take a sip then, and as promised, Beck waited until I swallowed. And then he leaned into me one more time.
