Page 37 of Make it a Double

His question caught me off guard. Was that a hint of insecurity I heard? Or was he just not used to women turning him down? “Of course, I did. Don’t be stupid.”

“Was it something I did, then? Or something I said? Whatever it was, I’m sorry.”

This man was going to be the death of me. He needed to stop talking and take the hint.

“No, no. Nothing like that. I’m just…” I tried to think of what to say that could toe the line somewhere between the truth and a lie. “I’m not really a one-night stand kind of girl. That was the first time I’d ever done anything like that, and I don’t want either of us to get the wrong idea here.” Then I stopped, an important question slipping free before I could stop it. “Besides, I don’t even know why you’re here. You said you hate small towns, and then you come waltzing back into the bar I work at?”

“First of all, I never said anything about hooking up tonight. Get your mind out of the gutter.” I choked back a laugh as he pushed forward. “As for why I’m here… I could tell you over dinner.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why can’t you tell me now?”

“I need something to entice you to say yes, don’t I?”

Dinner could be good. It would be a good way to figure out why he was here and how—or if—I had to tell him the truth. Did that make me a horrible person? Because even thinking about keeping it from him now that he was here felt all kinds of wrong.

Not to mention that dinner was also a short fall down a slippery slope. It would obliterate the lines and boundaries we set six months ago. One flash of his smile, those dimples, the flirtatious twinkle in his eye, and I’d be done for.

I groaned. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Beckett.”

“What if I promise to be on my best behavior? I won’t even try to make you fall in love with me.”

At that, I laughed. “What makes you so sure I’m at risk of that happening?”

“You won’t be now. My charm will be non-existent. I won’t even go in for a kiss at the end of the night. How does a friendly handshake sound?”

It sounded like my worst fucking nightmare, but I didn’t say that. Instead, I said, “Friendly sounds great.”

“Perfect. So, why don’t you text me your address? I can pick you up in thirty minutes,” he said.

“Still not happening tonight. I’ve got to open in the morning.” I didn’t, but he didn’t need to know that. “What about Friday?”

The petulant little groan that slipped free had my lips curling. “Friday? But that’s nearly a week away…”

“Surely a dinner with your friend,” I said, emphasizing the word as much as I could without sounding crazy, “is worth the wait.”

That was all we could be. Nothing more, nothing less. Anything else would be tempting fate.

There was only silence before he muttered, “Fine. But I’m picking you up.”

“That’s fine. I’ll bring a change of clothes to the bar.” Hopefully Liv bought something other than jeans for me to wear. Something cute but not sexy. Her taste was far better than anything I would’ve picked out. For the first time, I was grateful I didn’t have to worry about sorting through my meager wardrobe. None of my clothes would ever be considered sexy. I didn’t even own a single set of lingerie. It was all cotton briefs and T-shirt bras for me.

“Should I be concerned that you won’t let me know where you live? Are you secretly a serial killer hiding out in a trailer park, or something?”

His question wasn’t intended to wound, but the fact that living in a trailer park seemed like the worst possible scenario was another reminder that Beckett and I were completely different people. A reminder I needed to ground myself. I couldn’t let him waltz in and play the white knight now.

“Something like that,” I said, glancing down at the same bedding I’d had since I was a freshman in high school. The print was faded and worn, and there were a number of nail polish stains from my clumsy attempts to give myself a pedicure, but it still worked just fine. No need to go wasting money on something new just because what I had wasn’t perfect.

“What time should I pick you up?” he asked. There was hope in his voice once more. I hated that. He probably thought that my agreeing to have dinner with him was a sign that my walls were crumbling and he’d be able to sweet-talk me into something more than we agreed upon.

It didn’t matter at the end of the day. Once he found out the truth, Beckett Montgomery wasn’t going to want anything to do with me.

BECKETT

Date: Friday, Febuary 26th

To-Do:

- Dinner with my “friend”