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And brush my teeth.
* * *
Ten minutes later,I’m opening the front door again. Only this time I step out onto the porch, closing the door behind me.
Beckett’s standing at the bottom of the short set of steps, still looking hot as hell.
He smiles, “Morning.”
I lift a brow and hand him a mug filled with black coffee, taking my own over to the wicker bench in the corner of the porch.
In leggings, a sports bra and hoodie, I’m far from put together, but everything is held in place. And after throwing my hair into an extra-messy bun, I feel like myself.
Settling onto the seat, Beckett holds his ground as we take matching sips of coffee, our eyes locked over the edges of our mugs.
“So,” I make a point of looking around, “what’s going on out here?”
Beckett mimes my action, slowly looking at the tools and lumber scattered around my porch and yard. “Just replacing some of your floorboards.”
I can see the ones he’s already done, their color slightly lighter than the others.
“Oh?” I infuse the why into my tone.
He shrugs, “I spent a lot of time here this week,” he taps his foot against the steps, “and noticed a few bad boards.”
“You spent a lot of time here?”
Beckett nods, “Yeah. Waiting for you.”
Oh.
Really?
“You did?”
“Of course, I did.”
His simple answer hits me square in the chest. “When?”
He looks exasperated at my question. “Every day, Elouise. I came here every single day since the disaster at my parent’s house because I needed to see you. Explain to you what happened. And as I paced back and forth across this damn porch, I couldn’t help but notice that a few things needed to be fixed. And so here I am, fixing it.” Beckett sets his coffee on the railing and climbs the steps, crossing over the newly replaced flooring until he’s right in front of me.
He smacks a hand against his chest. “Me. I’m fixing it. Because the thought of some other man over here, working to make your house a safer place, makes my blood fucking boil.” He leans down, hands braced on either side of my shoulders, caging me in. “I don’t think you get it, not yet, but you’re mine, Smoky Darling. You’re mine to touch and spoil and keep safe. And while you’re letting that sink in, I’m gonna do what needs to be done. Because the only thing worse than thinking about some strange man fixing your rotten floorboards, is the thought of you being unsafe. I won’t fucking have it, Elouise. So don’t ask me to. The last time I saw you injured it nearly killed me.”
My pulse is skittering. His intensity is such a contrast to the calm Beckett from last night, pleading with me to believe him. This Beckett… fuck, this Beckett is hot.
“When did you see me injured?” is the only question I can think to ask.
“Do you remember that kick ball game?”
My heart skips a beat.
He can’t… he can’t possibly…
“When that little prick from down the street knocked you over?”
I nod. Because I know exactly what day he’s talking about. It’s a memory that’s formed my existence. The moment that started everything. One I’ve relived countless times in the years after. Because it’s the moment I fell in love with Beckett.
But I was sure – I knew – it meant nothing to him. Just a random fleeting moment in his life.
