by Erika Kelly
Coco dashed into the kitchen to turn off the stove before the screaming kettle woke Posie. Although, she suspected, after the busy day they’d had, her daughter wouldn’t know if they threw a rave.
Pouring the hot water into the mug, she breathed in the heavenly scent of passionflower and lavender tea. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing out the window of the back door.
Awareness flashed through her body when she saw Beckett’s lights on.
Tonight had been good. Really good. He’d handled her parents well. Though well-intentioned, they’d grilled him all through dinner, really dug into his past, into the choices he’d made.
Why had he retired from snowboarding?
Why did he choose a lifestyle that had him living out of a suitcase?
What would he do after he sold his app?
In other words, would he ever settle down in one place?
She knew what they were doing. They wanted to figure out whether Beckett would one day seek joint custody. Every day, he grew closer to Posie—closer to me—and since he was rootless—preferred it that way—what would that mean for her baby? Would he take her away—for the summer? For Christmas vacation?
Fear flowed through her like a raging river, her anxiety constantly on the verge of breaching the banks. Because it didn’t matter if he was a good guy, didn’t matter that he knew it would kill her to share her daughter. The only way for him to be a father was to take Posie on the road with him. There was no other way for them to spend quality time together.
He’s never going to live in Calamity.
Other than me and Posie, there’s nothing for him here.
Coco stared at her reflection in the window over the sink, the curl of steam rising out of the mug. Fear pulsed in rhythm with her heart.
Her perfect little girl would change. With an elusive dad, she could very well look for love in every boy that told her she was pretty. Coco couldn’t bear the thought of her little girl going through life never feeling good enough, always questioning her worth, just because Beckett didn’t want to be tied down.
He’s going to break my heart.
Oh. She turned away from the window.
Oh, no.
She felt sick, queasy, as the truth slithered across her skin, cool as a snake.
Because it wasn’t Posie she was worried about.
It’s me.
All this time she’d been so righteous about protecting her daughter. But Beckett was right—Posie never mentioned Ethan.
I’m the one who was hurt that he could move on so easily.
Posie hadn’t really noticed.
Am I really that selfish? That self-involved? She hated to see herself that way, but…wasn’t it true?
No, she didn’t want Posie to know she had a dad who didn’t love her enough to spend time with her, but Coco had to face another, deeper, uglier truth.
I’m afraid of falling in love with him and having him leave me.
When Keith had ghosted her after college, she’d been hurt. They’d been together three years, and she’d built her future based on their plans. But she hadn’t been destroyed. Frankly, she hadn’t even really missed him.
She’d been scared, because she’d had to reinvent herself.
With Ethan? She’d gotten to play happy family. It had been fun. But no way had she fallen in love with him.
But with Beckett, it was so much more. She could fall so hard for this man.
Could? Come on. At least admit it.
I’m crazy about him.
But, seriously, what kind of person keeps her daughter from her own father just because she’s afraid of getting hurt?
I won’t do that. Posie needs him—in any role he wants to take.
It sucked, but for the first time she had clarity. She had to let the two of them work it out. She’d be there, of course. Her primal instinct was—and always would be—to protect her daughter. But she had to let Beckett bond with her on his own terms.
I fell for a wanderer. That’s just the way things worked out.
She wanted to tell him, let him know she didn’t need him to fit into their lives. She headed to the back door—
And found him standing at his window. When their gazes connected, she felt the thrill of it pop inside her chest.
It was too late to protect herself. I’m already here. I want him.
She opened the door and stepped onto her porch.
Beckett came outside, standing in a puddle of yellow light. His worn T-shirt clung to his muscular frame, the sleeves hugging his bulging biceps, and his intense, hungry expression made her pulse flutter in her throat.
She had to clutch the mug so she didn’t drop it. “Surprised you’re still here. Thought my parents might’ve run you off.”
He chuckled. “Figured I’d wait to hear if I got the job, though I can’t recall which one I was interviewing for. The only thing they didn’t ask about is my credit score.”
“They were pretty thorough. You handled it like a champ.”
“They’re good people. I don’t blame them for looking out for you guys.” He watched her carefully, and she could be wrong, but she got the feeling he wanted to close the distance between them as badly as she did.
She sipped her tea. “How’s the wifi in there?”
“It’s great. No problem.”
“You can come in, you know.” With her free hand, she gestured behind her, to her house. “Mi casa es tu casa.”
“This is your evening time. I’m not going to intrude.”
She loved that he respected her schedule. “I don’t mind. Want some passionflower lavender tea?”
“Tempting, but I’ll pass.”
“How about my company? Want that?”
“Yes.”
She tipped her head to her house. “Grab your laptop and come on over. We can work together.” Which was pretty clever of her because she knew she wouldn’t have sex with him in her small house with Posie right there. Besides, they both had work to do. The countdown was on for the festival. She had a ton of emails to return.
Nodding, he ducked into his house. She shut the door and headed back to the couch. Normally, she didn’t work while she drank her evening tea, but she was so anxious, so fidgety, she turned on her laptop. Just to see something other than her hands lifting his T-shirt and exposing all that tan, smooth skin, the hard planes and grooves of his cut chest.
She waited for his big, masculine presence to fill her cozy little home, this world she’d created for her and her daughter. It felt different when he was in it. Fuller, more…complete.
The familiar creak of the door opening sent a thrill through her. In the quiet pause, she imagined him toeing off his sneakers. A moment later, his bare feet padded across the kitchen and then…
He was there, standing in the doorway, laptop cupped in a big hand, watching her. Her world tipped and spun, like a lazy top. She loved the way he looked at her—full of wonder, like she was a revelation, when she was nothing more than a single mother and chocolatier.
Before she melted into a puddle and made a fool of herself, she said, “You don’t have to stay out there, you know. I gave you a key. You’re welcome to come in here whenever you want.”
“My dad likes to say guests are like fish. They stink after three days.”
“You’re not a guest.”
He held her gaze, as he made his way over and dropped down in the middle of the couch. “Still, you have your routine, and I don’t want to mess it up. This is your time.”
“I don’t mind.” She pretended to scroll through her chocolate shop’s Splashagram feed.
As his laptop booted up, he glanced over. “That’s your page?”
She nodded, turning the screen toward him.
“It’s really nice. Did you hire a photographer?”
“My mom does it, actually. She stops by every now and then, takes a bunch of pictures, and then uploads one or two a day.”
He moved closer, kicking up his scent—mint, soap
…Beckett. “I like this one.”
In it, she had a look of deep concentration as she constructed one of her enormous chocolate Easter eggs.
He leaned in close enough for her to see the crescent-shaped scar on the edge of his jaw. “You’ve got this Audrey Hepburn vibe—playful, a little funky—but you’re a scientist and a businesswoman, and it’s all just a really hot combination.”
“You’re very good for my self-esteem.”
“I mean it, though.” He held her gaze, and she felt like a Popsicle on a hot August day. “You’re exceptional.”
Turning the laptop back toward her, she made a sound of dismissal with her tongue.
“Don’t do that.”
She’d gone warm, embarrassed. “Do what?”
“Diminish what I said.”
“You used the wrong word.”
“You don’t think you’re exceptional?”
She sighed. “Beckett, my dad was one of the greatest quarterbacks of all time. My mom was one of the original supermodels. Gigi’s—”
“A successful musician. I know, but those are jobs. Talents. Nothing you just said about them describes their characters or personalities. I don’t care what someone does for a living. It’s interesting, it gives us something to talk about, but I’m not drawn to someone because he played football. I’m not attracted to a woman because she fronts a band. Are you?”
“I…no. I guess not.”
“I was listening to your family tonight, and I got updates on your sisters’ careers. I heard all about how your mom took Gigi to recitals and auditions and spent a month in Paris with Lulu for some special cooking class. She took Stella to LA for one thing, Seattle for another. I don’t remember which one of your sisters spent the summer in Wood’s Hole.”
He looked at her like he was expecting a response…but she didn’t have one to give. He was describing the good things her mom had done for them.
“But I didn’t hear anything about you. She didn’t mention you once.”
“That’s because I didn’t have a passion. I told you that. Believe me, if I’d shown the slightest interest in something, my mom would’ve been all over it.”
“Okay, so, while your mom was taking your sisters on all those great trips, what were you doing?”
He didn’t know he’d pressed his thumb into a wound that never seemed to heal. “Being normal. I hung out with friends, had a boyfriend.” She shrugged. “My mom’s great. It’s not like she neglected me. My parents are very loving.”
Every word was true…and yet, she had felt…well, not neglected. That wasn’t the right word. “I always knew my mom loved me. But I didn’t feel special, you know? Gigi had this gift—not just her voice, but her songs, her lyrics. When she played, the whole room would go silent. You just knew she was destined to be huge. And Lulu was in the kitchen from the time she was little. Always baking, cooking. And Stella…” Her heart twisted for the sister she hadn’t seen or talked to in five years. “Stella was larger than life. Everything that caught her interest became the biggest, most important thing in the world.”
“Can I ask what happened to her? No one said anything, but I couldn’t miss the way everyone talks about her in the past tense. She didn’t…”
“Die? No, no. She and Lulu…” She shook her head. Never mind. It wasn’t her story to tell. “They had a falling out. Right after, Lulu dropped out of college and moved to Paris. The second Stella graduated high school, she left, and we haven’t heard from her since.” She hoped one day Stella would come back and make things right, but tonight wasn’t the night to dig into that hot mess. “But, yeah, I know if I’d asked my mom to spend time with me or take me on a trip just for fun, she’d have done it.”
“But you didn’t ask.”
“No.” What was he getting at?
“So, you’re used to people not being there for you. I knew there was a reason you’re so self-sufficient.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. But, keep in mind, I got pregnant at twenty-one. It was my choice to have a baby, and I promised myself I wouldn’t make it my family’s problem. It’s okay to disrupt my life, but it wasn’t fair to impose on everyone else’s.”
He had this expression—it wasn’t pitying, but it was close enough to make her uncomfortable. “I guess it’s only a bad thing if you use your self-reliance to keep people from hurting you.”
“My family would never hurt me.”
“Okay.” He looked away, booting up his laptop.
“What?” She nudged him. “Say what you’re thinking.”
“Why didn’t you ask your mom to take you anywhere?” The softness in his voice, the compassion in his eyes…melted the irritation away.
“Because she was busy.”
“With your exceptional sisters.”
“You don’t understand. Everyone could see Gigi was going to be famous one day. And Lulu had pop up restaurants in town when she was thirteen. So, of course my mom would take her to Paris for that class.”
“You weren’t important enough for her to take anywhere.”
“I’m her daughter. I’m important to her. I’m just not exceptional. There’s a difference.”
“That’s how your family made you feel, but it’s not true. And I’ll bet it’s the reason you didn’t ask for anything. You didn’t think what you wanted was important enough, so you learned to rely on yourself. It was better than putting yourself out there and being disappointed.”
Rejected. But, yes, she couldn’t deny the truth in what he said.
She would never forget the time she’d spent hours agonizing over the decision to go to Miami University to study marine biology or UCLA for screenwriting. Her mom had been getting ready to go out—dashing in and out of her closet, trying on different earrings, spritzing her perfume—but Coco had assumed she’d been listening. It had been important. But, at the end of her discussion, her mom had remained silent.
“Mom? What do you think?”
“Think about what?” she snapped.
“Between Miami and UCLA?” She’d been accepted by both programs.
Now what did she do?
“I don’t know why you’d go to schools for majors you don’t even know you’ll like. You’ll get there and change your mind within the first semester. Just start here at Western and if something catches your fancy you can transfer. Now, let me finish getting ready. I’m late.”
“I was the one who’d wanted to go to Wood’s Hole. The reason my mom didn’t mention my name is because I didn’t wind up going.”
“She made you feel you’re not as special as your sisters because you didn’t have one particular talent.”
“You know, when I said you could come in, I didn’t mean so you could psychoanalyze me.” She said it on a laugh, but he’d nailed it.
“How do you think I pay for my trips?”
“With armchair therapy? Now, I get why you’re here for the summer. You can’t afford an airplane ticket.”
“Oh, because I’m wrong?”
The laughter faded, and she saw the truth of herself in those crystal blue eyes. “No, you’re not wrong.”
“Well, fuck that. You’re exceptional. And I don’t like that your family made you feel less than your sisters.” Shutting his laptop, he set it down on the table. “I have this image of you, my beautiful, sexy Coco, full of energy and intelligence and kindness, and everyone just racing past you on their way to do Great Fucking Things. I hate that they made you feel smaller, and I wish I’d been around to tell you that you don’t have to do anything other than be yourself to be worthy of their time. That I’ve never met anyone I wanted to be with more than you.”
Setting her laptop aside, she straddled his lap and cupped his cheeks. “Keep talking like that, and things are going to get very messy here, Beckett O’Neill.” She kissed his mouth. “And we can’t have that.” She shifted restlessly on his thighs—not close enough to feel his cock but conscious of how one punch of her hips wou
ld have him lined up right where she wanted him. The zing of it rocketed through her. “I like you.” She kissed him again, this time lingering. “I like your face.” She licked his bottom lip, and he growled, tipping her onto her back on the couch.
Settling over her, he kneed her thighs apart and rocked his hard length between them. She arched her back, cupping the back of his head, and gave into all the need she’d tried so hard to suppress.
He kissed her with a hunger that swept her away. His hand roamed from her shoulder to her breast, tracing the curve of her waist, and settling on her hip with a squeeze.
Nothing had ever felt as good as the way this man wanted her. He gripped the back of her knee, lifting her leg over him, and surged into her. When she gasped, he tore his mouth off hers and lowered his face into her neck.
“Fuck.” It came out a harsh whisper. “I’m sorry.” Abruptly, he stood, glancing up the stairs towards Posie’s bedroom. “I would’ve fucked you right here.” His gaze swung back to her, landing on her mouth, then sliding down to her breasts, her hips, her legs…all the way to her bare toes.
And she felt it like a caress, her skin tingling. More.
“You make me crazy.” He started for her, then came to a hard stop. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
Heart pounding, she listened to his footsteps move across the kitchen. Heard the door creak open and closed.
And then she was alone, her body aching for his touch.
She had a choice. She could shut down all this want and need and pick up her laptop, take care of those emails. Stay in her safe little world.
Her gaze snagged on the Las Vegas sign on her windowsill, and she smiled.
Or she could shake things up.
Chapter Fourteen
In her pajama shorts and college T-shirt, Coco padded across the lawn, her bare feet tickled by the coarse grass. Her whole body vibrated with need. She just had to have him. Had to be with him.
The minute she knocked, he opened. Like he’d been waiting for her. He was strung so tight, the muscle in his jaw ticked. He reached for her, hands on her waist, pulling her roughly to him. “I want you. You know I fucking want you so bad, but nothing’s changed. I can’t make any promises, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
