He smiles, then he takes a step closer. And fuck me, my pulse kicks into a higher gear like it always does around this guy. He knows it, too. He puts a warm hand on my neck and gives me a firm squeeze. “I’m glad someone is going to wish you a happy birthday, you old grump. Wish it could be me.”
There’s a wall made of stubbornness inside my chest, and I can almost hear a few of the bricks crumbling when I ask, “Do you happen to play poker?”
“Do I play poker?” Beck scoffs. “I’ve memorized the statistical probability tables for Texas Hold ’em. Did you know that pocket aces only win about eighty-five percent of the time in heads-up play because variance is a cruel mistress?”
Figures. I smile in spite of myself. “So. You busy tomorrow? Want to come with me to my Wednesday-night game?”
“You know I do.” He leans in and brushes his lips against my cheekbone.
And because I’m not a lucky man, my ex pulls up to the house.
Twenty-Six
Who’s Your Friend?
Beck
I feel Forest stiffen, and I quickly step back. “What now?”
Then I spot the BMW at the foot of the driveway. A pretty woman with shiny brown hair hops out. She’s wearing a chic coat and the kind of stiletto leather boots that say I have somewhere important to be, and you’re not invited.
The ex-wife, I presume. She does not look happy to see me. This is the first time I’ve ever been glad that Forest is too classy to shove his tongue in my mouth in the driveway. Because it’s clear that she feels she’s caught us in some illicit tryst.
“Hello,” she says crisply. “What’s going on? Where’s your truck, Forest?”
“May she rest in peace.”
“Ah.” She winces. “Sorry. And who’s your friend? Am I interrupting a... date?” She pronounces the word like it’s dirty.
And, to be fair, my “dates” with Forest usually are.
Forest sighs. “Ruby, this is Becker. He’s just on his way out, after spending his afternoon helping us out.”
She looks alarmed. “By...?”
“Well, first he picked up Charlie from hockey.”
“He picked Charlie up?” she repeats. “In...” She glances at the two unfamiliar vehicles in the driveway, and, demonstrating classic mom instincts, her gaze falls onto my heap. “That?”
“The seatbelts function fine, ma’am,” I say, starting to get offended. “Just got my license last week, so I’m being extra careful.”
Her lips turn white.
“Beck.” Forest closes his eyes. “He’s kidding, Ruby. You should also know that Beck just tutored Charlie all the way through the math test redo.”
She blinks. “Seriously? The whole test?”
Her expression is so dubious, I actually laugh. “It’s not multivariable calculus. Charlie isn’t bad at math, either. He caught on quick enough.” I leave the word bitch off the end of the sentence, but it’s implied.
“Well, that’s a relief,” she says coolly. “Where is he?”
Like it’s not obvious?
“Beck,” Forest says with forced patience, “would you mind letting Charlie know his mother has arrived?”
“Sure.” I head back to the house, not missing the way Forest steps closer to his ex, dropping his voice so he can quietly give her a piece of his mind.
I open the house’s door from the garage and step inside. “Charlie? Your mom is here. She’s looking for you.”
