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She rolls her eyes. “Oooookay. But just for the record, I’m not judging. I was engaged to someone else when I fell for Gus, whowasmy fiancé’s best friend.”
My mouth forms a small “O” of surprise.And here I thought Rachel was so angelic.“Thatismessy. But that’s not at all what’s going on here.”
She smiles again, but this time it’s as if she knows something I don’t.
20
BECK
Caleb called over the weekend and apologized for doubting my intentions—no doubt at Lucie’s bidding.“I know nothing would happen between you and Kate,”he said.“I overreacted.”
I accepted the apology, but as Kate walks into the bar on Monday, I’m reminded thatI’mnot the reason nothing has happened. I want her. I’ve always wanted her. And when she’s having a good day—and today is quite clearly a good day—she’s impossible to resist.
There’s something in her eyes—the thing that caught me the first time I saw her—as if she’s been lit up inside. That pretty little mouth of hers is soft, and she seems to have to fight to keep it from curving into a smile. She attempts to walk past me with an insouciant little wave. I’m not having it.
“Kate,” I bark. “Come here.”
She hitches a shoulder as she sashays to the bar and takes a seat at the counter. “It’s a little early for drinks, but I’m game. Sex on the Beach sounds good. Of course, that’s always good, come to think of it.”
She fucking said it just to make me hard, and she succeeded.
I raise a brow. “We’re all smiles this morning, I notice. What evil have you unleashed on the world today?”
“I ran a bus full of orphans off the road on the way here,” she replies, “but I do that a lot.”
“I wasn’t aware Elliott Springs had that many orphans. And what else has happened?”
She smiles fully at last. “I got an interview with this company down in Santa Cruz—Zavatello. They import shit from India. I’ll have to research them some more, but honestly, I don’t care what they import as long as they’re willing to hire me.”
“Sex slaves? Heroin?”
She hitches a shoulder. “That’s actually even better—no storefront and minimal advertising costs mean less overhead.”
I laugh, but in my chest, something rises and dips like a roller coaster. I’m happy for her. I know she needs to move, but at the same time I wish she didn’t have to. I like knowing she’s a few feet away. I like having her waiting for me at night. I’ve spent years claiming to relish my independence only to discover that I’m entirely dependent on the sight of that long red hair splayed over one end of my couch, her feet tucking beneath my thigh when I sit, and her nonstop criticism of the battle strategy onGame of Thrones.
Having her around has proven how little I like my life without her. It’s going to be hard to go back to what I had when she leaves.
“When’s the interview?” I ask.
A shadow comes over her face. She stares at her nails. “Friday.”
“What’s wrong with Friday? That’s five days from now. You’ve got plenty of time to get ready.”
She swallows. “Yeah. I just need to get a haircut and shit.”
I turn away, more irritated than I should be, but I wish to fucking God she’d stop lying all the time. Whatever problem she has with Friday, it’s not about the haircut.
And I guess whatever problem I have with this situation, the lying is the least of it.
21
KATE
I’m able to get a haircut appointment that afternoon. When the stylist asks me what I want, I mean to tell her a bob—a niceI’m a responsible adultcut.
But then I picture Beck’s gaze on me as I pulled off that helmet the other night. He’s into the long red hair—not that it matters.
“Just a trim,” I tell her. “An inch at most.”
