Page 55 of Save a Wish

“Originally, I meant for food, but now . . .” Beckett rolled on top of me in a quick spin and we began today the way we’d ended yesterday.

“Okay. Now I’m hungry for food,” I said after we’d cleaned up and put on the clothes we’d washed free of mud last night.

“Let me make you breakfast then.” Beckett took my hand and led me out to the kitchen. He took a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator. “My mother made sure all of us kids could cook at least a few dishes before we moved out of the farmhouse.” He pulled a frying pan out from a cabinet and placed it on the stovetop. “A BLT was one of them, which you’ve already sampled. An omelet was another.”

I watched in awe from a stool at the kitchen island as Beckett proceeded to make an omelet that rivaled anything that had ever come from the royal kitchens. Perfectly browned. Properly fluffed. Expertly cheesed and plated with a side of toast and a medley of fruit. A mug of tea accompanied the omelet and by the time Beckett sat beside me with his own plate, I was ravenous from the aromas alone.

“Ladies first.” Beckett gestured to my fork. “Dive in.”

I did just that and the first bite pulled a hum from me. “Culinary bliss, Beckett. You’re a man of many talents.” I nudged his elbow with mine.

“Does this mean you’d be in favor of another slumber party with me?”

“I would definitely be in favor of that,” I said, “although we didn’t do that much slumbering.”

“I know, but calling it a sex party didn’t feel right either.” Beckett grinned before he shoveled more omelet into his mouth.

“That’s because it wasn’t just sex,” I said. “It was showering, soaking in the tub, sex, more sex, and some more sex, snuggling, sanitizing the bathroom to rid it of mud, slumbering, more snuggling, morning sex, and now savoring this delicious breakfast.”

“It’s a deluxe package,” he said. “One reserved only for you.”

“I’m sure you’ve had other women stay overnight, Beckett.” He was too attractive and generous and thoughtful to not have been in other relationships.

“Well, yeah,” he admitted, “but normally I would have pissed the woman off by now.”

“Pissed her off? How?” At no point during my stay with Beckett had he made me angry. The exact opposite was true instead. I was happier than I’d ever been.

Beckett chewed his toast slowly as if he needed some time to consider how to answer me. He washed that down with some orange juice then swiveled a bit on his stool.

“I would have been on my laptop or tablet or phone at some point during a woman being here. Probably at multiple points.” He shrugged. “I’d like to blame it on work, but it’s actually because I get bored.”

“The last time I saw your phone was when you opened your garage door yesterday to let us in after we’d gotten all muddy,” I said. “You haven’t been on it since.”

“I know. I’m not even sure where my phone is right now.” He glanced over his shoulder into the living room. “I always know where my phone is, but you, Sadie Rodgers, have proven to be more entertaining and addicting than any technology I currently possess. I haven’t been bored once since we’ve been together.”

I put a hand to my chest. “I feel so special.”

Beckett leaned over and caught my mouth in a quick kiss. “That’s because you are special.” He moved in for another kiss, but his phone rang from somewhere down the hall. “It’s like it knew I was talking about it.” He kissed me again then went back to eating his omelet while the phone kept up its ringing.

“Aren’t you going to check that?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“What if it’s one of your family members? What if they need you for something important?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “You’ve discovered my weakness.” Sighing, he slid off the stool and went down the hallway.

A man whose weakness was being available for his family? Beckett Hartley was truly The Perfect Man.

Was he also someone who could handle the truth of who I was? Of why I’d come to Vermont? I didn’t like keeping this enormous secret from him. Not while we were becoming close. He liked Sadie Rodgers, but what would he think of Princess Aislinn Síomóin of Verdalach?

I paused, my fork hovering over my omelet. Saying my real name—even only in my mind—felt foreign. That name no longer belonged to me. To the me I’d created here in Vermont.

To the me that was falling hard for Beckett Hartley.

He came back out to the kitchen and set his phone on the island. “Just my gaming buddies wanting to know if I was free to play.”

“Oh, I can get going.” I popped the last bite of omelet into my mouth and made a move to take my plate to the sink. I had to do some thinking about telling Beckett everything anyway. That type of considering was best done not in the tempting presence of this wonderful man.