by Scott, Kylie
“Yes.”
“There you go,” he says, tone placid. “I’m smarter than I look. The timeline is definitely getting shorter.”
My shoulders slump in relief. “Thank God.”
“Yeah.” He shifts on the stool with a wince. “I’m imagining you with your underwear back on. More comfortable for everyone involved, but mostly me.”
“I see.”
“In my mind, you’re now wearing a very sensible red lace thong. Crotchless, of course.”
I cock my head. “I’d debate your use of the word sensible, but what’s the point? And crotchless? Really?”
He just grins.
“I think you might want to imagine more coverage if you’re seeking a flaccid state of mind.”
“Are you mocking my staff of love? My pillar of pleasure?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” I say, trying not to laugh. “Please don’t call it either of those things if you wish me to ever take that part of your anatomy seriously.”
“Harsh, but fair.”
“You seem particularly lusty this morning.”
He makes a humming noise. “I had dreams about you. Vivid ones. You may have even been naked.”
“Ah.”
“So, I was thinking…” His gaze now rests on my ass. It appears my butt has him hypnotized since he doesn’t even blink. “I know you said penis in vagina, but how do you feel about tongue in vagina? What if we experimented with some oral first?”
“No.”
“It would be for science’s sake, of course,” he continues as if I hadn’t said a word. Typical Beck. “We would have a diagram to mark out your most sensitive spots for future reference. A thorough exploration of clit versus labia. Examine the exact ratio required of licking to sucking.”
“Stop talking dirty, Beck. You’re not going to change my mind.”
“Then there’s the whole finger fucking issue,” he continues. “That’ll need some intense study. Where do you stand on the subject of ass play, just out of curiosity?”
And now I’m waving a spatula around like my mother, which is so wrong given the topic of conversation. “I didn’t sign contracts and move states to mess this up with you now.”
“But—”
“All or nothing, my friend.”
He pouts.
“You wanted me on side with this and now I am. Deal with it.”
“Well, what about watching each other masturbate, then?”
“We both go without until the big event,” I say. “You felt strongly that this was important. That we build our relationship slowly and thoroughly, getting to know each other and all our little quirks in an effort to limit any chance of problems later. Because we’ve both been let down before, right? Gotten serious about people who were not who we thought they were and been hurt?”
He’s seriously cute when he sulks. “Yes.”
“So we’re doing it right, the old-fashioned way.”
“Dad was born six and a half months after Grandma and Grandpa got married. Pretty sure the old-fashioned way isn’t what you think it is.”
“Another week or two won’t kill us.” At least, I hope not. “Just please don’t tell me it’s going to be more than that or I’ll ugly cry.”
“I’m not even sure we’ll last that long at this rate.”
I stop watching him over my shoulder and start frothing the milk. Next comes plating up the bacon and eggs. Toast and butter already sit on the kitchen island. A simple breakfast. Though it smells mouthwateringly good. Can’t buy the boy a Rolex, but I can look after him in other ways. Also, he already has like a dozen different designer watches.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a girlfriend cook me breakfast before,” he says.
“Seriously?”
“They either had kitchen staff, we went out, or I declined to stay over.”
“Bon appétit.” I slide the plate in front of him along with cutlery.
“Thank you, dearest.” He picks up his knife and fork, cutting into a strip of bacon. “So, how much don’t you care about money, just out of curiosity?”
“Eat your breakfast, Beck.”
“This is going to make the family tradition much easier to maintain.”
“Oh?”
“Yes indeed,” he says, loading up his fork with bacon and egg. “All of us Elliots seek to remain emotionally unavailable while throwing money at the problem.”
“Am I a problem?”
“No. You’re my Alice.”
The easy way he has of saying such devastating things. First last night and now this…he’s making a mess of my heart. I don’t know what to say. I’m too busy just breathing and not being all overemotional at his casual declaration.
“Do you have meetings today?” I ask, voice quieter than before. Less bold.
“Just one,” he says. “At the hotel in Boulder. Was wondering if you’d like to go for a drive into the national park beforehand? Head up to some of the lookouts?”
“I’d love to.”
He gives me a lopsided grin before shoveling another forkful of food into his mouth and chewing. Once he swallows, he says, “This is great. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We have a relaxed start to the day together. It’s nice. I’ve kind of been in a sort of holiday mode since arriving in Denver, but that’s over. Time for me to get busy building a future. If I was hesitant in any way about this relationship before, those days are gone. It’s an odd feeling, being legally bound to someone. We’re documented on paper now, bound by rules and subsections. My signature means I’m serious. Maybe it’s how commitment in a relationship is made, with layers of promises, emotions, and responsibility. By making yourself vulnerable. I don’t know.
Though a text could end things easily enough. That was in the contract too.
After finishing breakfast and washing off the dishes, he checks his cell. “Nothing from Emma or Matías yet.”
“I hope they’re okay.”
“Yeah.” He keeps scrolling through the screen. “Henry is fine and settling in back at school. He says he doesn’t have time to text with us basics.”
“Fair enough.”
“Brian will organize your appointment with the OB/GYN for late this afternoon,” he says. “My doctor’s appointment will also be done nearby at the same time in the interests of keeping all things equal.”
“Is Brian your assistant?”
A nod.
“What if they don’t have an appointment available?”
“They will.” No trace of doubt in his voice. Then he looks up, meeting my eyes. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you, beloved?”
“No.”
He just nods, still watching my face. There’s a question in his gaze. “Okay. Courier will be by to pick up the contracts in five. Last chance to escape my evil clutches.”
“I’ll go have a shower and get dressed.”
“Remember to bring a coat. It’ll get cold up in the mountains.”
What I can only describe as a cross between a futuristic rocket ship and a motor vehicle sits waiting at the curb outside the Heritage. It’s low and sleek and silver. Waving the valet aside, Beck opens the door for me. The interior is black and equally space age in appearance. I shove my hands into my leather jacket, guarding against the wind. I’m back in my casual outfit of black sweater, blue jeans, and my booties. This weather is perfect, brisk and cool. Given how I hate the sun, I make a shit Cali girl. Though experiencing a full-on winter in Colorado is going to be interesting. Beck wears a sweater (swoon), blue jeans, and boots too. Though his sweater is a forest green that brings out the amber flecks in his eyes. How dreamy.
“This is yours?” I ask, hovering near the door.
“Yep.”
“How fast does it go?”
“Very.” He smiles. “Want me to show you?”
“Oh, yeah.”
He smiles and slaps me on the ass. “Well, let’s go.”
We slid
e through the streets, taking corners tight, and weaving in and out of traffic. It’s a little weird, sitting so low to the road. I’ve never been in something like this before and the thrill is undeniable. My cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. Without a doubt, this is as close to a vehicular representation of an orgasm as is possible to achieve. Beck handles the wheel with absolute confidence and precision. And watching him is also a mighty turn-on. I’m all but squirming with excitement.
Once we hit the highway, we speed up, the engine purring as we head away from town and toward the mountains. Tall grass, sunflowers, and clear blue sky.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Do it.”
When Beck puts his foot down, we shoot forward, the force pushing me back in my seat. It’s like being on a roller coaster only better. My heart pounds and laughter escapes my mouth. He just grins. This is freedom. Moving so fast through the world that no cares or complications could possibly keep up. It’s just him and me and the road going on forever.
“Let’s not push our luck,” he says after a while, slowing the vehicle down. He gives me side-eye and a sly smile. “You know, I think you’d look pretty in a tiara. Might put in a call to Cartier or Sotheby’s later and see what they’ve got.”
I scrunch up my nose. “A tiara?”
“Absolutely. I’m thinking diamonds. Lots of them.”
The asshat is so testing me. “That sounds great, Beck.”
“You on top of me wearing a tiara.” He happy sighs. “Just imagine it.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Can’t help but think that tiaras have been maligned so far as modern jewelry go. I mean, anyone can buy a ring or a necklace. How passé. But a tiara, now that’s a statement, a reclamation of female power.” It’s official. He’s gone insane. “And they’re so practical, right?”
“I have no doubt I’ll wear it everywhere.”
“You’d be okay with me buying you one?” he asks, tone of voice amused. “Really?”
“Absolutely. Far be it from me to tell you how to spend your money,” I say. “So what’s your relationship with your mother like?”
Two can play at this game. He’s not grinning now. “It’s fine. We text.”
“Yeah?” And I just wait.
“She’s apparently finished steaming her private parts in the tropics and is back in New York getting ready for fashion week and working on her next coffee table book. It’s about wellness and all of the possible uses for her line of herbal waters.” He pulls over to the side of the road. “Your turn to drive.”
“Me?”
“Don’t be shy.” He opens his door before wandering around the front of the vehicle to open mine. “C’mon, Alice. Cars are meant to be driven. And I know you want to.”
“You’re right, I do.”
“That’s my girl.”
Sitting behind the steering wheel, my stomach tumbles and turns. But my blood beats hotter and faster too. All of the power at my fingertips. Or toe tips. I carefully pull back out onto the highway, even though the road has been almost deserted. What with this part of the day not being a competition, I don’t drive as fast as Beck. But I’m no slouch either, despite sticking to the speed limit. Mostly. It’s official, sports cars are damn fun. And while being a passenger in one was great, sitting in the driver’s seat is about a billion times better. The sensation of hugging the corner and accelerating once we hit a straight stretch of road. It’s over way too soon as we swap back in Estes Park so I can concentrate on the view.
“Being serious this time,” he says. “I’m buying a jet.”
“The Elliot Corp. ones won’t do?”
“A lot of people use those. I think for convenience sake we need our own for work and play.”
“Need” is a strong word. But again, it’s his call. “Okay,” I say.
“You’re being so agreeable. It turns me on.”
“Everything turns you on today.” I smile and turn in my seat to watch him. No doubt the view outside is pretty, but the one inside the car is a singular delight. It feels like one of those special moments. The type you never want to forget.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Watching you.”
“Hmm.” He glances at me, a hint of color staining his cheeks. Oh my God, Beck is blushing. He is the cutest, kindest, and craziest.
My throat goes tight with some emotion I don’t want to name. “You must be used to people looking at you.”
“Not like you do.”
“How do I look at you?”
For a moment, he doesn’t answer. “Let’s discuss it another time when I’m not meant to be concentrating on driving.”
How curious. “Okay.”
“You’re still staring. Ask me another question. Go on.”
I think fast. “How are you dealing with your dad being gone?”
Beck frowns.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. How you grieve is your own choice, of course.”
“It’s fine. I miss him.” His fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “Me leaving after that argument…the lack of resolution and everything…I guess it’s always going to be a thing. But as I’ve mentioned before, we never had a great relationship. And odds were, it was never going to improve. He was always so big on trying to control people, yet none of his offspring are what you’d call meek or biddable. It’s funny, really.”
I keep my mouth shut, letting him speak.
“Then I feel guilty because I’m honestly kind of glad he’s not here to give Emma shit about the pregnancy among other things.”
“Understandable.”
“Is it?” He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck. “Perhaps I should buy an island. You like the beach.”
“Or there are plenty of free ones we could visit.”
He gives me a half smile.
“But whatever makes you happy, of course. An island sounds lovely.”
“Nice save,” he whispers. “Ask another question. Go on, I’m an open book.”
“All right. What other businesses do you own?”
“We came into our trust funds at twenty-one,” he says. “A bit earlier than some. Dad made a competition out of who could invest it the best. Make the most profit.”
“Matías was right. Ambition and competition should be the family motto.”
“Just remember to put it in Latin. We get bonus points for being pretentious assholes and all that.”
“Ambitio and competere, then.” I shrug. “That’s probably wrong. I’m okay on Latin roots, but I never really studied the language or grammar.”
“You’re okay on Latin roots?”
I narrow my eyes. “Etymologically speaking, yes.”
“I love how you have all this random knowledge stored in your head.”
“It’s not random at all. Just slightly impractical.”
The small town and tourist shops disappear behind us as we reach the Rocky Mountain National Park. He lowers the window to pay the ranger the fee. Everything is green and beautiful. Lots of trees and towering mountains. Plenty of tourists and other vehicles on the road as well. Still, out here, the air is crisper and fresher than in the city. The fall colors are spectacular.
“I own a few different properties,” he says, his gaze on the twisting road heading up into the mountains. “But I mostly wanted to focus on hospitality and entertainment. I partnered with a production company specializing in documentaries, a recording studio in Denver, and a small record label that have all done well. Then there’s the bars and nightclubs, which you know about, eight of them throughout Colorado. Also, I own Downtown Gin. It started out small-batch, but we’re looking into expanding.”
“You own Downtown Gin?” I ask, surprised.
“I do.”
“That’s some top shelf goodness, Beck.”
“Thank you. I have a small team monitoring things in offices at the Heritage.”
“How were you able to walk away for six months
?”
“I hire good people,” he explains. “And Matías helped. But our investments had to be able to be run as a sideline. Dad expected us all to be full-time at Elliot Corp.”
“I’m amazed any of you had time for a life.”
“‘Sleep is for the weak.’ Another one of Dad’s quotes.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah, well, that kind of workload isn’t sustainable. The way he lived his life and his recent death proved as much.” His face tenses as his large hands maneuver the steering wheel with precision. “At any rate, Ethan was overall winner on highest profit margin, that’s how he got to take over Elliot Corp. He went heavily into building while Emma concentrated on green energy sources. She did damn well too. But I’m happy with what I’ve achieved.”
“You should be.”
“Thing with wealth is, you have to be wary of getting carried away with how things look on paper. Most of the money is tied up, some of it long-term, and actual worth is dependent on market value should you sell,” he explains. “Actual available cash is less than you’d think.”
“But enough to buy a jet, apparently.”
“Not that you’re judging.”
“Never.”
High up ahead an eagle rides a thermal, its wings stretched wide. Nature is amazing. Now that we’re gradually getting up above the tree line the view seems to go on forever.
“Are you really going to look at tiaras?” I ask, tone dubious.
He laughs, which is not an answer, and pulls into a parking space at a lookout. There’s an amazing view behind a low stone wall and toilet facilities. A good thing since the three coffees earlier have caught up with me. More than a few people gather around the car to gawk and admire, which is ironic given the stupendous natural beauty in every direction. Meanwhile, we take selfies of us together with the valley and mountains as a backdrop.
Wind whips my hair about and I cuddle up to Beck. With my arms wrapped around his waist, I can press my ear against his chest and feel him breathe and listen to his heartbeat. Just enjoy the moment. He tucks his hand into the back pocket of my jeans. Hard to say if I’ve ever been this happy. It’s such a gift, getting to have this intimacy with him. I know the sound of his voice and the scent of his skin. How he looks when he’s asleep and what he’s like when he’s excited. He’s my fairy-tale prince and I have no idea if I deserve him or not, but I’m keeping him.
