Fall Into Temptation (Blue Moon #2)

by Lucy Score

  Beckett hid his grin. “I’ll take a Coke, too.”

  He waited until Ellery had shut the door behind her.

  “So what brings you to the office, Evan?”

  The boy leaned forward in his chair. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

  Beckett’s interest was piqued. “What kind of a proposition?”

  Evan interlaced his fingers on the desk in front of him. “As you know, I go to Blue Moon Middle School. What you may not be aware of, is that the school doesn’t have a debate team.”

  Beckett, pursed his lips. “I was not aware of that.”

  “The high school has one, but that’s a few years away. Some fellow students and I thought it would be a good opportunity to start a middle school team so, by the time we get to high school, we already know the basics and can focus more on competition and fine tuning our tactics.”

  Ellery returned with heavy tumblers of ice and soda.

  “Thank you, Ellery,” Evan said politely.

  She grinned, a dark burgundy lipstick smile. “You’re quite welcome.” She left them again and closed the doors, wiggling her eyebrows at Beckett.

  “So, you want to start a middle school debate team,” Beckett recapped.

  Evan nodded. “Yeah.”

  “And there’s something standing in your way?”

  “Just one small obstacle. We need an advisor.”

  “And your teachers …”

  “Already have their activities. And if we don’t find an outside advisor now, we’ll have to wait until the next school year.”

  “I see.”

  “So, I thought, given your background on the high school debate team and your current prof —”

  “How do you know I was on the debate team?” Beckett asked.

  “Carter let me look through his old year books. You were president of the Debate Club.”

  He’d also been team captain of the cross-country team, but of course Carter wouldn’t have pointed that out to the kid.

  “So you’re looking for an advisor.”

  “It would only be an hour of your time a week, after school.” Evan leaned in. “You could give us pointers and help us get ready for some events in the spring.”

  “And you want me because everyone else said no?”

  Evan shook his head earnestly. “You’re the only one we’ve asked. We want the best.”

  How the hell was he supposed to say no to that? Beckett wondered.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “An hour a week?”

  Evan nodded. “On Wednesdays. I checked with the library and they have meeting space we can use.”

  “How many of you are there?”

  “Seven. Eight if you count Oceana, but she’s at some wool-spinning workshop for two weeks after Thanksgiving.”

  He slid a piece of paper across the desk. “These are the competitions we want to enter in the spring so we need to be good by then.”

  Beckett picked it up and studied the list. “Okay.”

  “Okay you’ll do it, or okay you’ll think about it?”

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” Beckett clarified.

  “Cool,” Evan nodded as if he’d expected the yes. “Meetings start the week after Thanksgiving at the library.” He stood up and extended his hand to Beckett.

  Beckett rose and shook the boy’s hand.

  “You won’t regret it,” Evan said confidently.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “Thanks, Beckett. See ya around,” Evan said, draining his glass before he left.

  Beckett sat in his chair feeling slightly manipulated and not the least bit upset about it. He saw Evan close the sunroom door behind him on the porch and break into a victory dance.

  Nope, Beckett wasn’t the least bit upset about it.

  He called Ellery’s desk. “Can you set a reminder for me to call the middle school principal about this debate team thing?”

  “Already on your calendar.”

  Beckett answered the evening knock on his front door with a beer in one hand and his phone in the other. Gianna had regretfully turned him down for dinner tonight in favor of getting some magazine work done for Summer. So he’d settled for a sexy text exchange while he caught part of the basketball game on TV.

  His brothers ranged themselves in the doorway.

  “Haven’t seen you in a while,” Carter said, pushing past him into the house.

  Jax followed suit, slugging Beckett in the shoulder on his way through the door.

  “Got any more of those?” Carter asked over his shoulder, pointing at the beer.

  “Fridge.” He followed his brothers down the hall to the kitchen. It had been a while since he’d seen them.

  “Don’t get your beard hair on any of my food,” he warned Carter as his brother started to dig through his fridge.

  Carter pulled out two beers and handed one to Jax. He stroked a hand through his thick beard. “Sounds like jealousy to me, Jax.”

  Familiar with the game, Jax grinned. “Sounds like it. I bet Beckett couldn’t grow more than a sad, scraggly patch or two in a week.”

  “What brings you esteemed gentlemen to my kitchen, besides insulting my face?” Beckett asked, letting his gaze skim between them and through the back window. Lights were on all over Gianna’s house.

  “He’s got it bad,” Jax sighed, sliding to the left to block Beckett’s view of the window.

  “Who’s got what bad?” Beckett asked, playing it cool.

  Carter pulled out his phone, skimmed a thumb over the screen.

  “Becket Pierce sends flowers, buys car seat, seen smiling in grocery produce aisle,” he read.

  “I like grapefruit. They were on special.”

  Jax snorted.

  “You two didn’t come all the way over here to talk about me and Gianna, did you?”

  Carter and Jax shared a look.

  “What?”

  “Summer kicked us out of the house,” Jax said, rubbing the back of his head. “Something about not being able to concentrate with so much testosterone in the house.”

  “What exactly were you doing that earned you an exile?”

  Carter shrugged. “We may have been just fooling around wrestling.”

  “She got pretty pissed when we kicked over that lamp,” Jax said, taking a sip of beer.

  “Was it the lamp or the table she was mad about?” Carter frowned.

  Jax shrugged. “All I know is one second we’re just goofing off and the next she’s throwing car keys at us and telling us to get out.”

  “Is this pregnancy hormones or bridezilla issues?” Beckett said, pretending that Summer wasn’t perfectly within her rights to evict two overgrown teenagers.

  “Man, I think the hormones are double with twins,” Carter sighed.

  “Or it could be the fact that you’re smothering the shit out of her,” Jax said affably. “‘Can I get you a pillow, sweetheart? How about you sit down and take a break? Why don’t you let me chew your food for you?’” Jax said in a spot-on, lovesick Carter imitation.

  Carter cuffed his brother upside the head, which resulted in another scuffle.

  Beckett pulled them both apart by the backs of their shirts. “If you break anything in here I’ll do worse than kick you out,” he said mildly.

  Carter straightened his shirt and grinned. “We figured we’d give her some time to cool off, swing by and make fun of you, and maybe hit up Shorty’s for a round and some wings.”

  “And if we bring Summer cheese sticks, she’ll forget she was pissed,” Jax added.

  “Good call,” Beckett nodded. “I’m in. Let me get my wallet.”

  “Just so you two know, this doesn’t count as a bachelor party,” Carter warned.

  Beckett rapped on Gianna’s front door, a greasy paper bag wafting the aroma of deep fried onions into the night air. A low key evening with his brothers and getting to drive Jax’s souped up Chevy Nova back from the bar had put him in an even better mood.

&
nbsp; Imagining Gianna’s thank you for the snack could potentially make the grin on his face permanent.

  Expecting to see her beautiful face or one of the kids grinning up at him, he was surprised when a thin man wearing boot cut jeans and a tight, black button down answered the door.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Gianna here?” Beckett asked, his eyes narrowing.

  “Sure,” he leaned back. “G, babe. Someone here to see you.”

  Gianna, her cheeks flushed hurried down the stairs. “Beckett.”

  She stopped just inside the door. “Beckett this is Paul, the kids’ dad. Paul this is Beckett, my …”

  “Landlord,” Beckett finished for her. He took the hand that Paul offered.

  “Cool,” Paul said.

  Beckett’s eyes tracked to the bags and suitcases just inside the door and felt the blood in his veins go icy.

  “You just get into town?” he asked.

  Paul nodded. “Yeah, I was missing the fam,” he said, and tossed an arm around Gianna’s shoulder and pressed a kiss to her temple. “This is a great place you got here, I hope you don’t mind one more in it.”

  Gianna’s wide eyes never left his face.

  “Daddy!” Aurora’s little voice piped up from the stairs. “Come color with me!” She spotted Beckett and hurled herself down the stairs and jumped into Beckett’s arms. “Bucket! Wanna color with me and Daddy?”

  Beckett held on a minute longer than necessary before setting the little girl back on her feet. “Sorry, shortcake. I’ve got to go do big people stuff.”

  Aurora threw her arms around his legs. “Okay. We’ll play later. C’mon, Daddy!”

  Paul left them in the doorway and chased Aurora up the stairs with the five-year-old shrieking the whole way.

  “Beckett,” Gia began.

  “I need to go.” Blindly he stepped off her porch and started toward his house.

  “Beckett!” Gia dashed after him, pulling on a sweatshirt. “Wait!” She caught up to him and grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going home.” He yanked his arm out of her grip and kept moving.

  He was waylaid again when she jumped on his back and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Gianna!” He grabbed her by the wrists and slung her off of his back. He was so angry he was shaking. “Is this why you couldn’t come over to dinner? Because your husband is back?

  “Beckett, please talk to me,” she begged. “ There’s nothing to be upset about. Tell me why you’re so angry.”

  “Why am I so angry?” He turned on her. “Your husband just answered the door. Your husband who misses his family.”

  “My ex-husband,” she corrected. “And of course he misses his family. Who wouldn’t miss those kids?”

  “Then why are you trying to take them away from him?”

  The words pushed her back a step. “What are you talking about?”

  “You heard me. You broke up your own family. Paul doesn’t look like he’s done being a father. It’s obvious he still cares for you.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Of course Paul isn’t done being a dad and of course he still cares for me. I still care for him. But what does that have to do with you?”

  “You’ve got me filling shoes that aren’t even empty,” he snapped.

  “Excuse me?” Gianna’s tone was ice cold. She wrapped her arms around herself.

  “There’s a man in there who doesn’t look disconnected and disinterested to me. And you’ve already got me lined up, falling for you, falling for your kids. Well, I’ve got news for you. I’m not poaching someone else’s family.”

  “You need to stop now before you say something that can’t be taken back.” Gia was getting fiery. Matching anger with anger.

  There was no stopping the tirade now. The words tumbled out of his mouth.

  “Maybe it’s a family trait. You and your father just shuffling people in and out of relationships, rearranging families.”

  “Beckett, I’m going to give you a chance to calm down and then you’re going to give me a chance to explain why Paul is here.” Her jaw was clenched.

  “No.” The word cracked across the backyard with the force of a whip. “I don’t need you to explain to me what he’s doing here. He came to ask for a second chance and you’re not going to use me as an excuse not to give him one. I’m not stepping in to play daddy when he’s here, ready and willing.”

  She shivered from the ice in his voice. He too felt the cold from the inside out.

  “You can’t take a man’s family from him, Gianna.”

  “I’m not taking anyone’s family away from anyone.”

  “You just decided you were done. He’s clearly not done with you or the kids. Not all families are lucky enough to get the choice to stay together. Sometimes we lose people and we can’t get them back.” His throat clogged with emotions. Anger, frustration, and that bitter sadness that had never dulled, never faded.

  “I did what was right for my family,” Gianna snapped. “I would have thought you of all people would understand that.”

  “No, you did what you thought was right for you. You’ve got a chance to make it right for everyone and you’re selfish if you don’t.”

  “So that’s it then? You don’t even want to hear what I have to say?” Gianna’s words were clipped. “Once again you make a sweeping decision that affects me and my kids and we don’t even get to talk about it?”

  The ice lodged in his gut. Somewhere along the line, he’d started to think of all of them as his. But they weren’t. They belonged to a man named Paul who was waiting for his wife to come back.

  “Go home, Gia.”

  30

  Gia had never been so grateful for Paul than when she went back in the house. He took one look at her face and volunteered to watch the kids. Her expression must have said it all. She was so angry, so hurt. A rage headache pounded behind her eyes. Even the heavy bag wouldn’t be enough to work off this mad. Nothing short of pounding in Beckett’s face would make it stop.

  She climbed in her car and briefly entertained a fantasy of taking out Beckett’s mailbox as she backed down the drive. She’d found early on in her marriage that entertaining violent fantasies usually prevented her from physically following through on them. She thought of Trudy and suddenly felt a kinship to the crazy woman.

  How dare Beckett place judgment on her like that? How dare he filter her life through his own issues? He missed his father? That was no excuse for trying to make her feel guilty for doing what was best for her kids.

  It was best, wasn’t it? Dragging Evan out of the school he’d just started to get used to because Paul had a “new gig” with a “guaranteed record deal.” The permanent ambivalence with which he’d viewed his parenting responsibilities. He wasn’t a “bed and bath-time” kind of dad. He was a “spend the night at the recording studio” or “call from the road” dad. He’d missed birthdays, anniversaries, story time, groundings, and bad dreams.

  She brought up the last straw in her mind’s eye. She’d come home from a yoga class. She’d just started teaching a few months earlier as a way to earn some extra money. When Paul had lost his job again, she picked up a few extra classes at one of the studios where she worked.

  It was after nine, she hadn’t eaten, she still had to pack Evan’s lunch for the next day, and the school bake sale she’d promised brownies to had snuck up on her.

  She stopped at the grocery store for brownie ingredients and crossed her fingers that her debit card wouldn’t be declined. Money was tight and Paul once again was making noise about following his music career rather than buckling down and making ends meet.

  It’s my dream, G. Can’t you understand? If I lived like every other stiff in a suit out there, I’d wither up and die, he’d told her over and over again.

  But things were different when there were little mouths to feed and feet to cover and back rent to pay. Dreams had to be shuffled into the luxury folder,
at least until basic necessities were met. She’d had dreams too, and, had nearly given up on every single one of them while she became the sole breadwinner, the primary caregiver.

  Carrying her measly bag of eggs and brownie mix, she’d come home to chaos. A couple of Paul’s friends had stopped by. The sink was filled with empty beer cans and Stale cigarette smoke and raucous laughter wafted into the house through the open patio door. She could hear them out there, someone fiddling with an acoustic guitar while another one told a loud story about a prostitute who played a mean keyboard in Des Moines.

  There was an ashtray with a joint in it on the third-hand coffee table.

  And Evan was in his pajamas on the couch trying to comfort a crying Aurora.

  Gia had been mad then, too. But then it had been more resignation than rage. Because she’d expected it, she realized. Paul was up front about who he was and what he wanted out of life. She’d been the one to think she could deal with it or worse, change it.

  But watching her 10-year-old play parent to her daughter while their father chased his dreams in the backyard, she realized she couldn’t do either anymore.

  She’d shut the patio door, tucked the kids into bed, and made three dozen brownies. And when Paul came inside to try to charm a plate of brownies out of her, she’d quietly told him she was filing for divorce in the morning.

  There had been no fight, no discussion. No requests for custody or even visitation. And that’s what broke her heart for her kids. He should have wanted them. He should have wanted her. But he didn’t. Not then.

  And not now, either. Beckett was wrong.

  She parked on the street and stared at the cozy townhouse. She could see the TV flickering in the front room through the window.

  On autopilot, she got out of her car and climbed the steps to the front door. She rang the bell and when the door opened, she fell into the arms of the only man who had never let her down.

  “Hi, Daddy,” she sniffled in his warm, safe embrace.

  Franklin had seen enough female tears in his time to know that now wasn’t the time for words. It was time for the silent comfort that only a father could give. She let him guide her into the living room and was beyond mortified when she realized Phoebe was curled up on the couch, a Cary Grant movie paused on the TV.