“Beckett?” I said as the doors parted to reveal him standing there, a black, leather satchel under his arm. He wasn’t wearing a suit, but he was in dark jeans and a wrinkle-free, charcoal polo. His hair was disheveled in a sort of slightly-on-purpose sort of way, and his lips shot up into a half-smile the second he saw me.
“Hadley?” he said as he stepped out of the elevator.
“Do you live here?” I asked.
“I do,” he said. “Just moved in about a week ago.”
Taylor pursed her lips and scrunched her face. I was sure she didn’t realize she was doing it, and I hoped he didn’t see her.
“I’m about to put an offer on an apartment,” I told him. “Do you like it here so far?”
“Love it,” he said. His eyes burned into mine with his signature unwavering intensity.
We stood, gazes locked, until Taylor had to ruin the moment.
“Ahem,” she said as she cleared her throat. “I don’t mean to break up whatever this is, but we really need to get back to my office, Hadley.”
“Oh, okay,” he said. His feet stayed firmly planted.
“It was nice seeing you,” I said to him as Taylor dragged me onto the elevator cart. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around soon?”
He nodded and stood in that spot until the elevator doors shut and carried us down to the main floor.
“Why’d you do that?” I whined to Taylor.
“Was that the guy that took you home last night?” she asked, ignoring my question.
“Yep,” I said. “What a small world, huh.”
“Here we go,” she sighed.
“What?”
“You’re going to get all wrapped up in him and -”
“-no I’m not, Tay,” I interrupted. “He’s handsome. He’s nice. He’s going to be my future neighbor. We’re just friendly, that’s all. I don’t want to date anyone right now.”
“Whatever.” She didn’t believe me one bit.
“Where are going now?” I changed the subject.
“We have to write up that offer,” she said as her shiny, gel-manicured nails clicked on the screen of her phone. She was texting someone. “I have a showing this afternoon that I can’t miss. Some sheik or shah or someone with a shit ton of money looking at one of the most expensive places in all of Manhattan.”
“We need to find you a man,” I told her. “You work too hard.”
“I wish I had the time, my friend,” she said with an eye roll. “A man is the least of my concerns right now. That’s how it should be for you too.”
“Oh, it is,” I said. I placed my hand up to make a point. “I’m not looking to date anyone right now.”
“Mm, hm,” she snickered. “Famous last words.”
CHAPTER 3
When the last of my furniture had arrived and the final moving box was placed gently in the middle of the living room floor, I collapsed onto the downy cushions of my new sofa. I was finally home.
It had been over a month since I’d first laid eyes on that place and Simon dashed any hopes of a quick close as he drug his feet on paying the first installment of the divorce settlement. There were times when my hopes of buying this place seemed to slip out of my fingers, and then I’d get a call from Maura with good news and I’d get excited all over again.
A new place meant new furniture, new businesses to get acquainted with, and new neighbors. Oh, god, the new neighbors. I hadn’t seen Beckett in over a month, but not a day passed where I didn’t wonder if I was going to bump into him soon. It was only a matter of time.
“Knock, knock,” came a singsong voice from the front door that could only belong to Miss Taylor Young herself. “I’ve come bearing gifts.”
I climbed up from the sofa to greet her and took the little blue Tiffany box from her hand.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“It’s not diamonds if that’s what you think,” she said. “Open it.”
I tugged at the silky white ribbon and carefully pulled the top off the small box to reveal a shiny, silver keychain with my monogram engraved on it.
“Happy housewarming,” she said.
Taylor wasn’t usually a touchy-feeling kind of person, but I didn’t care. I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed her tight anyway.
“I thought you could use some help unpacking,” she said. “I usually don’t do this for my clients, but I figured I’d make an exception for you.”
She walked around the room inspecting the labels on boxes until she found one labeled for the kitchen. She hoisted it up onto the counter and got to work. Organizing was the one thing Taylor lived for besides work. She never said so, but I think it helped calm her down and provide a little bit of order in her chaotic life.
I unboxed plates and dishes and silverware before unboxing wine glasses, corkscrews, and carafes. Placemats, napkins rings, and cloth napkins all found a home in one of the overly abundant drawers of the kitchen.
“We need some music,” Taylor said. She had hardly spoken a word since she got into the ‘zone’. “And wine. Got anything to drink?”
“I can run down the street to the pharmacy and grab us some wine?” I offered. “Or we can order out? There’s a liquor delivery service. I have the magnet somewhere around here.”
She laughed and threw her phone at me. “Order some wine. And stop trying to get out of working. I can’t unpack your entire place myself.”
Afternoon turned into evening, and eventually Taylor had to go home.
“Thanks so much, Tay,” I said as I walked her to the door. “For everything. I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She smiled a humble smile as she took off, phone in hand. She was never without that damn phone.
My place was finally starting to come together, and my body ached from a day spent unpacking. I poured the last of the wine into my glass and headed out to the balcony to get fresh air.
The balcony was maybe 5x8 feet and surrounded in gorgeous tan stone molded into some sort of Greek revival pattern. I made a mental note to myself to shop for some furniture and get some greenery out there first thing Monday morning.
“Hadley?” a man’s voice called out from a few feet to my right. It sent shivers down my spine and jolted my tired self into a state of alertness. I glanced over and clutched at my chest. It was Beckett. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
I laughed, relieved. “It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting anyone else out here. You scared me.”
“Sorry,” he laughed.
“I had no idea you lived right next door,” I said, trying to cage my excitement.
He shrugged his shoulders. “What are the odds?”
“How have you been?” I asked. I’d only met him once, twice if you counted that day in the elevator, but talking to him was like talking to an old friend. There was a familiar comfort about him. An unexplained connection.
“Not bad,” he said. “Busy working. How about you? How’s life been treating you?”
“Just taking it one day at a time,” I told him. “Glad to be out of that little studio.”
He smiled. I loved that he didn’t judge me. Not a lot of people in Manhattan were like that.
“We should catch up sometime,” he said.
It seemed silly. Catch up from what? We didn’t even know each other’s last names. We’d hung out once. “Definitely.”
“Have dinner with me this weekend,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“Oh, um, sure,” I said, stifling the ridiculous grin that was fighting its way across my lips. “Saturday?”
“Saturday,” he said. He nodded before slowly heading back inside.
CHAPTER 4
A swift knock at my door echoed down the hallway, and I glanced up at the clock on the wall. 6:55pm. He was five minutes early. I spritzed on some gardenia perfume and clasped the diamond pendant around my neck, adjusting it along the gold chain until it fell at the perfect spot just above my cleavage.
&n
bsp; I smoothed my hands along my black sheath dress and brushed off any hints of fuzz or dog hair before grabbing my heels and running towards the door. I didn’t want to keep him waiting too long.
My first date in over six years may as well have been my first date ever. I welcomed the butterflies in my stomach and the girlish giddiness that washed over me. I hadn’t felt those in a long time.
I tossed my hair over my shoulders and plastered on my best beauty queen smile before slowly opening the door. Standing across the threshold was Beckett, hands in pockets, dressed in a tuxedo. His hair was parted on the side the smoothed over with some sort of crème, and his lips parted into a faint smile as if he, too, were trying to mask his excitement.
“Hi, Beckett,” I drawled. “Let me grab my clutch.”
I traipsed off to the kitchen and quickly shoved my phone and keys into my clutch before heading out the door with him. As we walked, I realized I’d never noticed how tall he was before. Even with my Loubotins on, he still had a good few inches on me. I loved the way he walked too. God, was it hot. He just oozed a quiet confidence I’d never seen in a man before.
He pressed the call button on the elevator and motioned for me to hop on first. We rode down in silence. I didn’t know what to expect. He told me to dress up and that we were going someplace special. I’d pretty much been to every nice restaurant there was in Manhattan, so it was nothing new for me. I’d have much rather stayed in and ordered pizza and watched movies with him, but he didn’t seem like that kind of guy. He was a little more buttoned up than that.
My heels ticked on the marble tile as we walked across the lobby side by side. As he held open the front door, a black limo waited for us out front beyond the awning.
“Is that for us?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied. The driver opened the door for us, and Beckett held my hand as I climbed in. A small part of me hoped he wasn’t doing all this just to impress me. As Mrs. Parker, I had access to a fleet of luxury vehicles and my very own driver. This was nothing new nor did it impress me. It seemed like something Simon would’ve done in the early part of our relationship. I hoped to God Beckett was nothing like Simon.
I slid across the buttery leather of the backseat and made room for Beckett. An uncorked bottle of champagne chilled in a bucket of ice in the console.
“Care for a drink?” he offered as he poured a glass.
“Thank you,” I said. The bubbles danced on my tongue and tickled as they slid down the back of my throat. The faint smell of Beck’s cologne mixed with oiled leather filled the small space we shared. “So where are you taking me?”
His lips curled into a wicked smile, though it wasn’t scary wicked. It was more like sexy wicked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Yeah,” I laughed. “Or is it a surprise?”
It seemed a little odd that he was pulling out all the stops for me, someone he hardly knew at all, but maybe the times had changed since my last foray into the dating world. Maybe this is what guys did nowadays. Or maybe this was what guys like Beckett did.
The limo drove us through midtown and past the East Village and the Meatpacking District. The lights of the city faded into the background as we turned towards the George Washington Bridge.
“We’re leaving the city?” I asked. The only time I ever left the city was to go to our house in the Hamptons.
“Yep,” he said. “I hope that’s okay with you.”
“Are we going to New Jersey?” I asked. I hoped I didn’t sound too judgmental. New Yorkers always tended to think the city was the center of the universe and nothing else was good enough. New Jersey usually took the brunt of the heat for that.
“We are,” he said.
The limo turned off the highway and drove further east. The sun was just starting to go down but there was still enough light in the sky for me to see the ocean in the distance through the trees that lined the roads.
We turned into a private drive just off a residential area where the limo came to a soft stop.
“We’re here,” he said. His eyes sparkled a bit.
Beckett climbed out of the car and helped me out, though he never let go of my hand. He led me down a sandy, beaten path to a small tree-lined area just off the shoreline.
“Beckett,” I sighed as I covered my mouth with my hand. “You did this?”
Up a head was a small, round table covered in a white tablecloth. Three candles flickered in the center piece and two plates sat covered with metal toppers. A man stood a few feet from the table with an acoustic guitar strapped over his shoulder. It was an awfully romantic date for two people who hardly knew each other.
“Is this going to be okay?” he asked, his face searching mine for approval.
In all my years with Simon, he never put this much effort into anything involving just the two of us. “God, yes.”
He helped me to my seat and uncorked a bottle of wine that had been chilling on ice. The whooshing and crashing of the waves upon the sand filled my ears while the wind softly whipped my hair around my neck. Further down on the embankment, there was a bunch of lit Tiki torches and a bonfire where people were having a party. Our area was private though. Just us, the wind, the sky, and the pale moon that was already starting to peek through what little traces of daylight that remained.
I couldn’t say what we ate that night. I wasn’t exactly focused on the food or the way it tasted or how hungry I was before we got there. I was too busy studying every camber and angle of Beckett’s beautiful face. He seemed to be lit from within, and it wasn’t the candles or the moonlight.
“So tell me more about what you do,” I said as we finished our meal. “You said venture capitalist. Like what do you invest in?”
He cleared his throat, and I hoped I hadn’t put him on the spot. I hardly knew him, but already I could tell he was a very private man. “All kinds of things, Hadley.”
My name slipped off his tongue so easily and made me forget where I was for just a split second.
“So, have you figured out what you want to be when you grow up yet?” He asked. Surely he was referencing the fact that I was unemployed.
I laughed. “Yes, I have.”
“And…?”
“I’m starting my own modeling agency,” I said. My cheeks burned cherry red. Saying it out loud made it sound so trivial and juvenile, like I was some naïve little girl with infantile ideas about the real world.
“Modeling, eh?” He studied my face.
“I mostly want to represent former pageant contestants,” I said. “There are so many women out there who left the pageant circuit and still have a lot of good years left. There’s a huge market for print ads and companies who need branding. Not every model has to be a runway model.”
“True,” he said. He took a sip of his berry wine and let it linger on his tongue before swallowing it.
“I’m just waiting on my settlement,” I said. “Or the rest of it I should say.”
“Settlement?”
I knew I shouldn’t talk about money with him. It was considered impolite where I was from, but Beckett was the kind of guy who made me open up for whatever reason. It was almost like he spoke my language sometimes, though I couldn’t quite explain it.
“Alimony,” I replied. “My ex has to pay me a set amount each year. He dragged his feet on the first chunk of it. I almost lost out on my apartment because of him. If you ask me, he did it on purpose.”
“Ah, one of those,” he said with an eye roll.
“As soon as I get the rest of it, I’m opening my doors,” I said. “Tennyson Models. Do you think that sounds cheesy? I couldn’t think of anything better. I’m not that creative.”
His eyes lit up. “I like to think I have a bit of a creative streak in me. I can help you name your agency if you want?”
“Really? I’d love help,” I said.
“I can even give you a loan,” he said. “You know, until you get your settlement.”
I bit my lip.
He was making a very generous offer, and I had no idea when Simon was going to fork over the rest of the money. It could’ve been in a month or it could’ve been in six months.
“You would do that for me?” My voice was hushed and I prayed he didn’t see the reflection of my glassy eyes under the moonlight.
“Of course,” he said. “It’s kind of what I do…”
Beckett - Book 1 Page 3
