“Care to show me?”
He cupped the back of her head, tugged her closer so their bodies were tight together. She was aware of every glorious muscle.
She smiled. “I would.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BECK WOKE UP with the scent of lavender surrounding him and Poppy’s hair tickling his nose. He was crazy about the way those long strands tangled around him, like his own personal blanket. He tugged her closer and inhaled.
While he didn’t normally consider himself a cuddler, he was all too happy to wake up with Poppy in his arms. The way her body molded itself to his, so soft and pliant. She sighed against his neck and he imagined bringing her awake slowly. With his tongue.
But before he could make good on his thought, she turned and elbowed him in the ribs. “Ouch.”
Her eyes opened and she blinked at him, a mixture of surprise and desire in her gaze.
“Good morning.” He might not be able to wake her up slowly, but he still had a vision of how to greet the day. And like all men with an excellent plan, he moved to implement it. He pushed the covers out of the way and slowly descended down her body. She was a vision, indeed.
Poppy sighed and grabbed at his shoulders to halt his progress. “Stop that.”
Not quite the greeting he’d been expecting. He paused, halfway down her sweet body, her skin smooth against his. She wasn’t regretting last night, was she? Because as far as he was concerned, last night was only the beginning. They still had the rest of the week, and Beck intended to enjoy their remaining time to the fullest. He pressed a kiss to her torso.
She breathed in sharply and trembled under his touch. He continued his trail of kisses.
“Beck,” she whispered. “No.”
“Yes.” Oh, yes. And possibly more and now and take me, stud. He had a personal preference for the last one.
“I’m late.” She tried to push him off, but he wasn’t going anywhere. He liked where he was just fine.
“It’s early,” he corrected. Sun filled the room, but it rose around five this time of year. He’d neglected to close the blinds last night, distracted by other, more important things. He skimmed a hand over the curve of her hip.
“It’s almost six,” she said. Beck knew that. He’d seen the alarm clock himself, but he didn’t know what it had to do with anything. “I have to go.”
“I want you to stay.”
The tension left her for a fraction of a second and he thought he had her. But then she pushed herself into a sitting position, sliding her delicious body out from under his.
“You don’t understand,” she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “I have to go.”
It was a first for Beck. Not once in his life had any woman been so eager to get out of his bed. He’d become used to giving them a verbal nudge. He studied her backside as she rose and walked across the room.
“Go where?”
She didn’t answer. “Where is my underwear?” She checked behind the chair where the rest of their clothing had ended up last night. Beck spotted something lacy sticking out from beneath the dresser but didn’t mention it.
“Go where?” he repeated, tossing the covers off and climbing out to stand beside her, pleased when she glanced up and stopped hunting. Much better. He circled his arms around her waist and began dragging her back to the bed.
“Beck.”
“Yes.” He loved the sensitive spot below her ear.
She moaned when he licked it, then pulled away again. “I have to go.” She spotted the underwear and snagged them from under the dresser. “I have plans this morning.”
Irritation flickered in Beck’s gut. What did she have to do that was so all-fired important she couldn’t spend a leisurely morning in bed with him? “Like what?”
“I have a golf date with my dad at eight.” She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “I have to shower and change and—”
“You can shower here.”
“You never quit, do you?” Her expression made it clear she’d read the intentions in his offer.
Beck didn’t see what was so wrong with a little morning shower sex. It was good for the soul.
Still talking, she slipped into her pink jeans—he had good memories of those jeans. “If we leave now, they might not realize I didn’t come home last night. I’ll sneak in and—”
His eyebrows shot up. “Embarrassed?” He didn’t care for that. Not one bit.
“Of course not.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “But I don’t particularly want to answer a lot of nosy questions from my mother. If you’d like to do so in my place, you’re welcome to come along and explain why I’m walking in wearing the same outfit as last night.”
And why her skin glowed. A glow he’d put there. It was a pleasing thought. Beck leaned back against the headboard and folded his arms behind his head.
“Get up,” she told him, not at all impressed by his show of manly pride. His pants landed on the bed beside him. “You have to drive me.”
He tried to convince her they had a little more time, but Poppy remained adamant. And in under ten minutes, he found himself dressed, behind the wheel of his car, driving her back to her parents’ house.
“What are you doing tonight?” he asked as he pulled into the driveway.
“Spending time with the family.”
He parked the vehicle and leaned across the console. “So, I’ll pick you up after. What time should I be here?”
Last night was one of the best times Beck had had in recent memory. And not just because of the sex. Because of Poppy. She made him happy.
She wasn’t the kind of woman Beck usually went for. She was a good girl from a nice family. Not that he picked up streetwalkers or broken birds, but he tended toward women who were familiar with the less pleasant side of life, who knew what they were getting into when they dated him. A couple weeks of expensive dinners and hot sex. Well, he and Poppy had the last part down.
It was too bad he only had a few more days with her, but he didn’t intend to waste them.
She met his lips head-on, a soft sigh escaping as he showed her what she’d be missing by insisting on leaving his bed so early. “Is this your idea of asking me out on a date?”
“I’m not asking.” He kissed her again. “I’m telling you.” Some dessert, maybe a walk by the lake and breakfast in bed. He brushed a thumb along her cheek. “You don’t have plans tomorrow morning, do you?”
“No.”
“You do now.”
He left Poppy, pretty pleased with himself and life in general.
The drive back was peaceful. A few runners and cyclists were out, but most people were still in bed getting a little more shut-eye.
The main house was silent, staring with empty eyes. He slipped past and headed down the path to his own enclave of privacy. He’d have to go over there later, check in on Jamie, but not yet. Jamie likely needed a bit of a lie-in and Beck didn’t want to make small talk with his parents while he waited for his cousin to get up.
The day was going to be another gorgeous one. So rather than spend any more of it inside, Beck grabbed a cup of coffee and his laptop and headed out to the porch to work.
He had a couple emails from his lawyer and real estate agent regarding the purchase of the hotel, but their concerns were minor and in the vein of making certain the contract of sale was completed soon. Beck answered what he needed to and emailed the company they’d hired to do the renovations.
The hotel was a grande dame who’d been allowed to go to seed. But her bones were great and he intended to return her to her former glory. Fortunately, most of the work was surface only and he was confident they’d be open for business by the end of October. That would give them three months. Even figuring in issues, because issues c
ropped up on even the smoothest projects, they should make their deadline.
He put the laptop on the slatted table between the chairs and stretched out his legs. Although the sun beat down, the trees created a canopy, leaving a dappled trail of light.
He was half asleep when the sound of someone on the front steps broke into his respite. He pictured Poppy wearing only those pink pants and returning for that shower. But when he turned his head, he found his mother smiling at him instead.
He sighed. Her regularly scheduled visit.
“Good morning.” She looked crisp and clean, wearing a flowered skirt and white blouse, her hair brushed into its usual tidy bob.
“Morning.” Beck had changed into jeans and an old white T-shirt he found in the dresser after dropping Poppy off.
His mother poked at the hole in the sleeve. “Really? You couldn’t find a shirt that wasn’t moth-eaten.”
“It was clean.” He was careful not to appear too welcoming, recalling the parental love nest he’d stumbled upon last night. The good feelings soaking through his body started to dry up. Of the many things he didn’t want to think about, his parents getting it on topped the list.
“I see Jamie enjoyed himself last night.”
“He did.”
“Was that you I heard getting him settled?”
Beck nodded. “I thought he’d be more comfortable here than with Emmy.”
“That was thoughtful.” She sat in the empty chair beside him. “Does this mean you’re coming around to your cousin’s getting married?”
“I’m around,” he told her. It was true. He might not be searching for marriage personally, but he thought Jamie and Emmy were doing the right thing. Especially in light of the baby bomb Jamie had dropped last night.
“Good.” Her smile, so sure and vibrant, faltered. Only a fraction, but Beck picked up on it. She was nervous. “Beck, I’d like to talk to you about what’s happening with your father and me.” Her hand fluttered to her bob and back down.
He exhaled. “I know. You’re getting married.”
“Well.” Her hand fluttered again before settling in her lap. “Yes. He’s asked me and I’ve accepted.”
All his old sourness rose up the back of his throat, looking for an outlet. He forced it back. “Congratulations.”
She didn’t smile. “Beck, I know this has been difficult for you.”
He’d known it was happening. Everyone, even people who didn’t know them, knew it was happening. But knowing it logically and seeing it in action were two different things. “This is your life. You two can do whatever you want.”
He wanted to ask what, if anything, had changed, to demand they examine their reasons for doing this. Because, as far as he could tell, they were the same as they’d always been and this was simply the latest chapter of their continuing saga.
He did not understand them. They dated, claimed they were in love, got married, acted as though they were utterly blissful and then divorced. After some time apart, usually years and often with marriages to other people, they’d find each other again and the cycle would repeat like a sick version of Groundhog Day. Beck was unclear how or why the ecstasy turned to agony, but the pattern had remained the same for as long as he could remember. Thankfully, he was old enough now not to be roped into their drama. He pressed his lips together.
“Beck.” She reached a hand out to touch his. “I understand how you’re feeling.”
He was pretty sure she didn’t. She’d never had to choose where to spend holidays so no one got bent out of shape. She hadn’t grown up not knowing if this time things would last. And she’d never been expected to pick up the pieces when it didn’t.
“We love each other.”
“I’m sure you do.” It didn’t seem like love to him. Her hand remained on his. He thought about shaking it off, but figured he would come off as surly and undermine the point he wanted to make: his parents were entitled to do whatever they wanted, but they couldn’t force him to be a part of it. “So again, congratulations.”
Some more of the bitterness leaked through then, but he couldn’t help it. Marriage wasn’t something a person should dive into because it seemed fun. There were vows and promises that should be honored.
“Beck.” Her fingers tightened, squeezing his wrist. “I realize you might have some concerns about the relationship your father and I have had.”
Some concerns? He’d have laughed if his throat hadn’t closed up, making it difficult to even breathe.
“It hasn’t been typical.” Try messed up. Completely and utterly messed up. “But we both want to try again and we hope you’ll be happy for us.”
Beck stared at her. He hoped she wasn’t going to ask him to walk her down the aisle and give her away. He’d be expected to attend the wedding and he would, but he drew the line at participating in the farce of it all.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “If you’re happy, does it matter what I think?”
Hurt flashed in her eyes before she masked it with another smile and carefully folded her hands in her lap. “Of course it matters, Beck. We’re a family.”
He raised an eyebrow. He didn’t have a lot of firsthand experience, but he understood families stayed together through bad times as well as good. They certainly didn’t create tales of lust and adultery and end marriages without proof.
He didn’t remember much about their first divorce, he’d only been five. One day his father had been living in the house, the next day not. Mostly he recalled his father taking him to the park and buying him greasy hamburgers and his mother crying in her bedroom with the door closed.
When he was six, his father got remarried to his secretary. She’d smelled like cinnamon and always gave him those hot candy hearts, which he’d thrown away when she wasn’t looking. His mother had gotten remarried the following year. Both relationships had lasted less than a year and when Beck was eight his parents reconciled and retied the knot while they were on vacation in Hawaii.
He’d liked that wedding. The sensation of the sand beneath his feet, the ocean breeze blowing across his face, his tiny chest puffed out in pride and hope while he stood beside his father. Because they were together again, a family, the way they should be.
Bliss lasted ten years until that awful night here when everything fell apart. His mother explaining in a tight voice that she wouldn’t put up with his cheating and his father arguing there was no one else.
“We’ve both changed, Beck. Things are different.”
He wasn’t sure about that. The years after their second divorce had been hard on him. His mother had called him regularly, wanting his support and a shoulder to cry on. He’d wanted nothing to do with her.
His father remained unwavering. He hadn’t cheated, but his mother was equally sure he was lying and proceeded with the divorce. And then she’d wanted to cry about how things hadn’t worked out. As if she hadn’t been the one to tear the family apart.
“Are they?” He leaned his head against the chair back and watched her from beneath half-closed eyes.
“Yes.”
His father had never gotten over her. It was one of the reasons Beck had begun to distance himself from the family. Throughout university, family dinners and holidays had been less than palatable. Whenever Beck spent time with his father, he’d ask how his mother was. But the year he graduated, the same year he’d started working for the family company and seeing his father every day at the office, his mother had gotten married again.
His father had been crushed. He’d tried to hide his pain behind a jovial expression and acted as if it didn’t hurt to hear that his ex had moved on, but Beck knew better. It had become unbearable having his father drop by his office looking for all the details of the latest family sit-down. So Beck had stopped going.
And life had go
tten easier.
He’d become used to the distance and even grown to appreciate it. Christmas in the city at a beautiful restaurant with his latest fling was a marked improvement over the awkward turkey dinner conversation at his mother’s home.
“I hope you’re right.”
“Beck.” She reached over to hold his hand, but he refused to allow her it, keeping his hands tucked under his arms. She rested her hand on his biceps instead. “I know this hasn’t always been easy for you. I’m not perfect, and your father and I have both made mistakes.”
“Yes, you have.”
“I love you. What can I do to make things better?”
Like he was a little boy with a scraped knee. Back then, she’d swabbed on stinging antiseptic and blown on the injury until it didn’t hurt anymore, then sent him off with a bandage and a kiss. But this pain wasn’t so easily negated and he wasn’t six anymore.
“You can’t do anything.”
“I want us to be close again.”
He shrugged. That wasn’t going to happen, but he didn’t want to get into an argument with her. He’d do what he always did. She’d call or email, and he’d respond, explaining he was busy or it wasn’t a good time but he’d get back to her later. And then he wouldn’t.
“I hoped this would bring us closer together.” She leaned back in the chair. “It’s not just a fresh start for your father and me. It’s a fresh start for all of us.”
He wanted to believe her. He was desperate to believe her. But having his family cut off at the knees twice before made that innocent naiveté impossible.
“I don’t expect our relationship to get better right away.”
He found his voice. “It can’t.”
She blinked. “It can, Beck. If that’s what you want.”
“And if it’s not?”
She clasped her hands in her lap, gripping so hard her knuckles turned white. “I’ll still do my best to change your mind.” She pasted on a cheerful smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
He’d hurt her. Good. Why should he be the only one affected by this? And then he felt guilty. This was why he tried to keep his distance from his family. Getting involved meant getting mixed up in their needs and emotions, which always led to pain. At least, it always had in the past. He didn’t understand how this time would be any different.
Not Another Wedding Page 14
