by Dylann Crush
“Okay then.” He pulled away, tightened his grip around her shoulder, and continued to lead her down the street.
“So…” she prodded. That couldn’t be it.
“Just curious.” He grinned, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes teasing her, making it into a game.
“Huh.” If he thought she would ask him, he’d have a long wait coming. It would serve him right for being so sure of himself.
They meandered down the street toward Whitey’s. Might as well get the big family picture over with. Her mother insisted on it every year. As much as everyone complained, sometimes it was the only time everyone stood still long enough to catch them in the same photo. Charlie enjoyed seeing how the family had grown and changed over the years. Once, she couldn’t wait to have Jackson stand beside her. After he died, she’d been convinced she’d always stand alone. A single in the sea of mini-families that made up the tight-knit Walker clan.
But now, since Kenzie’d brought it up, she thought about what it would feel like to have someone stand next to her. Their commitment captured by Dixie’s expensive camera, displayed on the walls of her mom and dad’s place for everyone to see.
She fought not to let herself imagine what it would be like if that person were Beck.
They reached Whitey’s. Her mom loved to line the family up on the wood steps. The built-in risers made sure everyone could be seen. She sat on the top step, pulling Beck down next to her.
“Everyone ought to be here in a few. You don’t have to wait for us. If you want to wander while we do the picture thing, I can catch up to you after.”
“And miss out on more kids calling me Uncle Beck? No chance.”
She could tell he was teasing from the half smile that played over his lips. “I promise not to let anyone call you Uncle Beck.”
“Really? It was starting to grow on me.” He squeezed her shoulder and kissed the top of her head.
“You’re joking, right?” He had to be joking. It was too soon. Way too much too soon.
“Yeah. Sounds too much like Uncle Buck. You ever see that movie?”
“Of course. John Candy. A classic.” One of her favorites. She loved all the John Hughes movies from the ’80s. She and Darby used to watch them all the time when they were in high school.
“Not sure I want to be that kind of uncle.”
No. Beck wouldn’t be anything like John Candy’s character. Although she could picture him teasing and embarrassing her nieces and nephews if she tried.
He cleared his throat, pulling her out of the movie playing through her head. “But I do want to know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“What do you want for breakfast?”
“Does that mean what I think it means?” Tingles raced along her spine. An overnight would be a big step. So far they’d only managed an hour here and there.
“You do like breakfast, don’t you?”
She nestled into his side. “I love breakfast. It’s my favorite meal of the day.”
“Then you’re in luck. It’s the only thing I know how to cook.”
Beck was right about one thing—she was in luck. Lucky they’d found each other, even if whatever fun they were having would only last for the summer.
As her family made their way toward them, down the main street of town, Charlie tilted her head up and kissed his cheek. “I’m kind of hungry for breakfast already.”
Chapter Nineteen
Beck stood at the stove, a spatula in one hand, the last letter from Sully in the other. This one had no postmark on the envelope, just Beck’s name scrawled on the front. Based on the date at the top, Sully had written it the day before he’d passed.
As he read the last line, Beck swallowed the lump of unexpected emotion that rose in his throat. His grandfather was nothing like he’d expected, nothing like his father had led him to believe. At least not if the words filling the dozens of letters were true.
It was all there, laid out in the black scrawl of his grandfather’s hand, and over the past week, Beck had read every line. The early letters talked about how sorry he was about what had happened between him and Holiday. From what Beck gathered, Sully hadn’t thrown his dad out on his butt. Instead, it seemed like Holiday had ratcheted out of control to the point where Sully didn’t have a choice but to try some tough love to snap some sense into him.
The biggest revelation by far had been the fact that Holiday had stolen money from his own father’s safety deposit box right before he left town. As the years passed, the pleas in the letters stayed the same. Sully offered forgiveness and a fresh start. But it appeared all of his letters went unopened and unanswered.
Beck tucked the last letter back into the envelope. How could his grandfather paint such a different picture of history than the one his own dad had shared? Sully was long gone and couldn’t fill in the gaps. Every time Beck tried to ask someone around town about it, they talked in circles and finally told him it wasn’t their story to share.
He didn’t have a choice. He’d need to force his dad to face the past if he wanted to get answers and fill in the blanks. And he had to do that before he’d feel comfortable signing that paperwork Holiday needed. Beck would insist they add some sort of clause that would ensure everyone would keep their jobs. Especially Charlie. More than once he’d wanted to tell her about the deal he’d made. But he wouldn’t break his word to his dad. He couldn’t agree to terms unless Holiday gave him the go-ahead to be up front with her. She deserved to know.
“Good morning.” Charlie padded out of the bedroom.
He turned toward her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Sleep well?”
“No. When are you going to start making this place your own?”
He hadn’t made any changes to Sully’s place yet—hadn’t even fully unpacked. He’d been living out of his suitcase and bought a queen-size air mattress rather than sleep in either Sully’s or his dad’s old beds.
“I’m working on it, okay?” He focused his attention on the scrambled eggs in the pan.
Charlie rubbed her hand over his back. The tension melted away under her touch. “You need some help?”
“Just finishing up the eggs.” He reached around her to grab two plates from the cabinet. “I’ve been reading those letters. The things he talks about, the stuff he says, it’s nothing like what my dad led me to believe.”
“I’m sorry. This has to be hard for you.” Her arm went around his waist.
Just feeling the warmth of her against him made everything better. “I need to talk to my dad about it.”
“You want to call him?”
“No.” He glanced down, hoping his smile conveyed an acceptable apology under the scruff covering his lips. “Sorry, it’s not you. I need to talk to him in person. That way I can get a read on him. He’d be too evasive on the phone.”
Charlie nodded. “Okay. Whatever you need to do.”
“Now how about some eggs? I promised you breakfast, right?” Beck scraped the spatula along the bottom of the pan.
She leaned against the counter. “That’s right. What’s that white stuff on top?”
“Feta cheese. I made them Greek style. Tomatoes, a little bit of cheese.”
“Pretty fancy, Manhattan.”
“Nothing but the best for you.” He flipped the eggs onto a plate.
Charlie took it from him and sat down at the small table. He joined her, so close that their knees bumped together underneath.
“What do you think?”
She slid a forkful into her mouth, her expression not giving anything away. “Hmm. Interesting.”
“Interesting good or interesting bad?”
Grinning, she scooped up another bite. “Let’s just say you could give Angelo a run for his money in the kitchen during brunch.”
“Really?”
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She nodded, her mouth too full to speak.
He didn’t know why the fact she liked how he’d made her eggs made him smile so hard his cheeks hurt. But he did know that everything in Holiday had been better since he and Charlie had gotten together. In fact, everything in general had been better with her by his side.
“So, I’ve been thinking,” he began, not sure how to best to broach the topic he wanted to bring up.
“Uh-oh. What happened, did it make your head hurt?” She set down her fork long enough to take a sip of coffee.
“Can you be serious for a second?” He loved the way she could fire back at him, and usually he enjoyed the banter. But this morning called for a serious conversation.
Her brow crinkled. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just wondered if you’d be able to do something for me. A favor.”
“Of course.” The wrinkle between her eyebrows deepened. “Is everything okay?”
He swallowed. Here goes nothing. “Yeah. I told you I need to talk to my dad about Sully.”
“Right.” She put her hand on his arm. “I think that’s a great idea. You need answers, and he’s the only one left who can give them to you. What do you need from me? Want me to take care of things while you’re gone?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I want you to go with me.” Charlie’s hand fell from his arm. She stared at her plate, the sympathetic smile gone from her eyes. He edged his chair closer to hers. “I know it’s asking a lot, but it would be so much easier if I had someone with me who had my back. Someone I can trust.”
She gave a slight shake of the head. “New York. You want me to go to New York with you?”
“Just for a couple of days. I’ll talk to my dad; you can see the Statue of Liberty. We’ll do the whole tourist thing.”
“You know how I feel about leaving Holiday.” She played with her fork, turning it over and over in her fingers.
He wanted to erase the sadness and doubt in her eyes. “I’ll be with you the whole time. It’ll give us a chance to be together, alone, away from everything and everyone. A chance to focus on us for a few days.”
“Us.”
“Yes”—he put a finger under her chin, nudging it up so he could read her eyes—“us.”
“I do like the sound of us.” The edges of her lips lifted just a bit.
“So you’ll go?”
“You really need me?”
Sensing a breach in her resistance, he pushed. “Yes. I do. I really, really do.”
“Let me think about it,” she whispered, barely loudly enough for him to hear.
At least she hadn’t said no. “Come here.” He pulled her onto his lap. “It’ll be a great time. A weekend you won’t ever forget.”
With Charlie by his side, he’d have the support he needed to confront his dad once and for all. She’d get to know him on his turf, and he could introduce her to the things he loved like that Korean barbecue joint and that Brooklyn beer he’d tried to bring to Texas.
“I’ve always wanted to see the Empire State Building.”
“We could go next month. I’m supposed to accept an award for my dad at a picnic in the Hamptons while he’s on that cruise. We could fly in right before he leaves so I can talk to him, then we’d have the whole town to ourselves for the weekend.”
Charlie nodded, considering his offer. “Maybe.”
“Probably?” He dipped her back to kiss along her jaw.
“Don’t rush me, Manhattan.”
He’d take what he could get for now. He had a few weeks yet to convince her. “I’m not planning on doing any kind of rushing. But if you hurry up and gobble down those eggs, I figure we’ve got a good thirty minutes before we have to leave for the Rose.”
“Well, I suppose it’s okay to rush some things.”
He dipped a finger under the neckline of the T-shirt she’d slept in, hopefully erasing any doubt about what he hoped to do with that extra half hour.
She scarfed down the last couple bites of eggs, then hopped off his lap and held out her hand. “Coming?”
“Give me five minutes and hopefully we both will.”
She squealed as he grabbed for her waist. Missing by a fraction of an inch, he stood, ready to chase her down and do his best to turn that maybe to a probably and finally a yes.
Chapter Twenty
The days tumbled into each other, from one to the next. Before he knew it, Beck found himself up to his boots in Walker get-togethers, including Tom’s favorite. The Fourth of July Chuckwagon Extravaganza had surpassed his expectations in every way. Of course, he’d never been on a trail ride or eaten an authentic chuckwagon dinner around a bonfire before. First time for everything. The bonfire crackled, sending red and orange sparks into the night sky. Beck closed his eyes, lulled into a lazy, half-asleep limbo. A cowboy strummed his guitar strings while a chorus of crickets and those crazy-loud bugs Charlie called katydids played backup.
He shifted his butt around, trying to get comfortable. Sitting in a saddle for the two-hour ride to their dinner location had left him feeling sore and slightly chafed. No wonder the cowboys he’d seen on TV always looked bowlegged. Charlie told him this was a family-only Fourth of July celebration. By the time they’d all gathered at the Walker ranch and saddled up, they looked more like a band of pioneers moving out across the Mormon Trail than an extended family get-together.
He’d also learned one thing about the Walkers. When any of them said “family,” it usually meant the entire town of Holiday. About a dozen wagons circled the fire, some of them in better shape than others. His stomach gurgled, probably struggling to digest the three helpings of barbecue chicken, cowboy beans, cheesy potatoes, and homemade biscuits he’d forced down.
Charlie stood from where she’d been sitting next to him, grabbed his hand, and pulled him to his feet. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” he whispered.
She stopped by the old-fashioned covered wagon her dad had driven to pick up a blanket. “Don’t you want to see the fireworks?”
“Sure, but can’t we see them from where we were sitting by the fire?”
“Not if we want to make out while we’re watching.”
Beck smiled. With the promise of getting his hands on Charlie, his body roused from the edge of sleepiness. They’d been working such long hours at the Rose over the past couple weeks they hadn’t been able to spend much time alone. Seemed like someone was always knocking on the office door or pulling her away to settle some argument or problem. Now that he’d finally decided to stop fighting the laws of attraction and give in to them, ironically, they’d seen each other less than they did when they were bickering all the time.
Charlie finally stopped at the door of a dilapidated old barn they’d passed on their ride in.
“Here?”
“No. Up in the hay loft.” She pointed the flashlight she’d brought at a ladder along the far wall.
“You sure this is safe?” He glanced up. Half of the roof had either rotted or blown away, leaving them exposed to a night sky full of stars.
“Safer than getting caught by my dad or brothers.”
“Good point.”
Beck held the ladder while she climbed up ahead of him. When he reached the top, she spread out the blanket.
“You naughty, naughty girl.” He sank to a squat, waiting for her to finish. “What would your daddy say if he knew you led me away to try to take advantage of me?”
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Now, are you gonna kiss me or what?”
“What if I want to do more than kiss you?” He leaned into her, nudging her onto her back.
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of her.
He wanted t
o stop time and freeze that moment—with thousands of stars twinkling overhead, soft music drifting all the way over from the fire, and the woman he’d spent a lifetime waiting for in his arms.
“What are you thinking about?” She propped her head on her elbow and slid her hand under his shirt.
How could he think about anything with her this close? With her hands on his skin? With the taste of her on his lips?
“You.”
She pushed on his abs. “Liar.”
“Always you, Charlie.”
He’d never before experienced the kind of feelings he had for Charlie. She infiltrated his thoughts every waking moment of every day. He even dreamed about her at night. At least the nights when she’d let him sleep. The sex wasn’t just great, it was fucking fantastic. Deep down, a part of him knew they couldn’t go on like this forever. At some point, he’d have to tell her he wouldn’t be able to stay. But not yet. This thing between them was too fragile, and he needed to see where it might lead. He could always come back and check in on things. His dad would need someone to keep tabs on the Rose, and maybe he could split his time between New York and Holiday. There was still a chance they could find a way to make this work.
He leaned over and showed her with his mouth what he couldn’t yet put into words. She responded, her kisses landing like sparks from the bonfire on his skin. He couldn’t see a thing but recognized the sound of her lowering her zipper. He’d been hard since she took his hand by the fire. Didn’t take much to get him turned on since he’d moved to Holiday. He struggled out of his jeans and tossed them to the side.
Charlie’s fingers skimmed his abs, trailing lower to wrap around him. He almost bucked off the blanket when she took him in her mouth. She straddled his thighs and bent over him. He could barely make out her silhouette as she moved her head up and down, taking him deeper into her mouth each time. He could come right now if he wanted. She barely had to touch him, and he could free-fall into a release.
But he preferred to watch her when they made love. That little O of surprise always hit her right before she came undone. He felt around for his jeans and slid the condom from his pocket. Since he’d started spending time around Charlie, he’d learned to always be prepared. She’d caught him off guard more than once.
