“It does,” I said. Horrified. “Always waiting for the potential of explosion.”
Beck took a long drink of beer. “Juvie was like that, although most of the guys I was with weren’t actually violent. Just… backed into a corner. It was always loud.”
“Is that why you don’t like being the center of attention?”
“Where I come from, having eyes on you isn’t safe,” he said after a beat. “Less attention, less trouble.”
Beneath the table, I squeezed his knee harder. His left hand found mine and intertwined our fingers together, swiping his thumb in circles on the inside of my wrist.
“Speaking of,” he said. “Elián informed me this evening that I have to actually start doing my job.”
“For real?” I asked.
“Yeah, yeah.” He grinned. “No more chasing down stray dogs. Lucky Dog needs to invest. Speak to the public. Go to events. Start thinking long-term.”
“It’s a hard shift, but you’ll do it,” I said. “I experienced the same thing once Wild Heart was really taking off. It’s hard to leave the front line but you have the makings of a true leader, Beck Mason.”
“Don’t lie,” he said, edge to his voice.
“I’m not lying,” I replied. “And are you asking for my help?”
He nodded.
“I’ve got some connections,” I said. “What if I helped you find board members who have expertise in those areas?”
“Yes,” he said. “Like that.”
I brought my other hand to join his beneath the table. “What if we went to an event together? I could be your date.”
“I wouldn’t embarrass you?”
“Of course not,” I said. Louder than I intended because Kristen’s comments about my “association” with Beck suddenly reappeared in my anxieties. I’d thought I’d shaken off her insinuation that his supposed reputation was impacting Wild Heart. I allowed myself the briefest of fantasies—I liked picturing the two of us at an event together. I would be nothing but proud to have him on my arm.
But would it ultimately affect the success of Wild Heart?
Your detractors will be many.
“Luna?” he prodded.
I shook my head, re-focused on the gentle giant in front of me. Who looked so dashing all of a sudden I feared swooning off this rickety chair. Because Beck was watching me with such a happiness it caused my heart to kick around my chest like a soccer ball. What was happening? We were easily sliding headfirst into this date and I hadn’t felt this silly or relaxed or comfortable with a man in a long time.
Did those anxieties matter? Would the old Luna have cared even one bit?
“Nothing. Just picturing how devastatingly handsome you would look in a suit,” I said.
He popped a French fry into his mouth. Winked at me.
Yep. I was definitely going to swoon off this damn chair.
“So, uh… what first date questions do you want to ask me?” I asked. “Zodiac sign… favorite color…?”
“Why did you choose a job in makeup?” he asked. “I’ve been wondering.”
“Oh,” I said, surprised. “Well, I love makeup and I always have. The beauty industry is a source for a lot of harm in this country and in many others. And I thought, if I could have an impact on one bad thing it could do a lot of good. Cosmetics is a $170 billion industry. It gets a lot of attention, it’s on every television screen and magazine. If I could create a cosmetics company that was dedicated to values of justice then maybe other industries would follow.”
I tapped my beer against Beck’s. “It’s why it’s more than one dog that you rescue. Just like Wild Heart is more than one sale of lipstick. It multiplies, radiates, expands every day.”
Beck looked at me. Looked down at the remaining half of my cheeseburger.
“Luna.”
“Beck.”
“I have an idea.”
“What is it?” I leaned back on my palms, content with the sun warming my legs and this man’s palms gripping my knees.
“I want to take your picture for Instagram. With the burger.”
36
Beck
“But you caught me at a low point,” Luna said, pointing at the grease dripping from my cheeseburger. “This isn’t for public consumption. I still can’t believe you saw me doing that on our first date.”
“Could it be for your fans?” I asked. “And I’m honestly asking, not judging.”
Luna bit her lip, putting down the burger. She moved to braid her hair but I caught her fingers. Brought her hand to my mouth and kissed her palm instead.
And then I kept holding her hand.
Holding Luna da Rosa’s hand. When was the last time I’d experienced handholding?
It was romantic—just our fingers, sliding back and forth. Her bare thigh beneath my palm under the table. When I’d seen her sitting at this table, about to stuff a burger into her mouth, I’d sworn it was a waking dream.
But no.
Luna was sitting on a shitty lawn chair, holding a burger while wearing a ratty old sweatshirt.
I’d never seen anything more lovely in my life.
It was all of my hopes and all of my fears—letting her see the passion I had for her. Recognizing those same feelings in her eyes, the openness of her body. I could read her body language pretty well now and Luna was giving me all the green lights.
But she’s still a fucking billionaire, an ugly voice chimed in. Easy to forget when she was dressed in a ragged sweatshirt that looked like it was from my closet. At the end of the night though, when I drove her home, it would be to her mansion.
“You mean tell my millions of Instagram followers that I almost became an actual hypocrite and ate all of this meat?” she asked me.
“Yes,” I said.
Luna’s lips started to curve, head tilting. I could practically see the gears turning in her head.
“It’s almost too honest. Which means Jasmine would hate it,” she said. “Which makes me want to do it more.”
“Trouble in PR paradise?” I asked.
“Concerns,” she said. “I’m having concerns. But that’s not up for discussion tonight. Not on our first date.” She chewed on her lettuce, thoughtful. “What would I say though?”
I lifted a shoulder, let her mull it over.
“I guess…” Her fingers tapped on the table. “I guess it’s a reminder, right? I can take ownership of the ways that I’ve turned my back on my values. Let money take priority. And I can still be that girl at eleven who became a vegan and meant it. The people who hate me now, who think I’m a fraud, they can’t…they can’t…”
“They can’t change you,” I finished.
Her lips transformed into a full Luna-grin.
“I like it. The universe is telling me yes,” she said.
“You can’t say no to that,” I said somberly. I grabbed her phone.
She looked down at herself. “Tell me the truth. Does this old sweatshirt and basketball shorts make me look trendy? Because I’m trying really hard not to try hard and by not trying hard I’m cooler than everyone else?”
“Sure,” I shrugged.
“Beck.” She laughed.
I reached forward and tucked a strand of wayward hair behind her ear. Swiped my thumb across her cheekbone. “When I saw you tonight you looked so lovely, I thought you were a dream.”
She swallowed hard. “So I do look okay then.”
I chuckled. “Hold up the burger. You’ll walk me through how you look like, you know, you do?”
“Like an Instagram influencer,” she teased. “If we were doing that it’d take hours. But I think your point is that I should be myself. No poses.”
I pointed to the burger again. She dutifully held it. “I forgot to tell you. Penelope should be ready for adoption applications in a month.”
Luna’s face changed: happiness, joy, compassion. I hit click.
That was the real Luna da Rosa.
“Beck,” she said
, hands flying to her throat. “Oh, I’m so thrilled to hear that.”
“I know,” I grinned. “I can tell. And here’s your picture.”
“Nope,” she laughed. “That’s one of two hundred. Keep that finger limber, boss.”
“I think we got it on the first try,” I said softly. “Take a look.”
She took the phone, examined her portrait. Gave me a strange look. “I… love it. Thank you.”
“You don’t actually have to post it,” I said. “It could also be only for you and me. To commemorate our date.”
She flushed prettily and put down the burger. “If that was the case, then you would have to be in the picture too.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Although, now I’m upset with myself. If I’d known we were going on a date, I would have packed more flower crowns.”
My lips tugged at the ends. “I’m… sorry I didn’t answer you. Earlier. Words aren’t my strong suit.”
“That’s right,” she said, smirking. “I forgot I’m supposed to be kind of mad at you. Your text messaging flirt game needs some work. Because no response doesn’t really make a girl swoon.”
“Noted for the future,” I said, repeating her words from the other night.
“You have to sweep her off her feet, show her how you feel, Mr. Mason. Fireworks.” She wiggled her fingers in the air.
“Showing I can do. Actions I can do.” Then I slid the table between us to the right. Reached forward and dragged Luna into my lap. She gasped as my arms wrapped around her waist.
“How’s this?” My lips hovered an inch from hers.
“G—good,” she whispered.
“Should we take that picture now?”
She nodded, eyes mischievous and locked on my mouth. “Yes, please.”
“Do it then.” I nudged my nose across her jaw.
With a playful smile, she held her phone out and snuggled against me. Flipped the camera around until I could see tiny versions of ourselves. As she prepared to take the picture, I leaned in and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Click went her phone as she exploded in laughter. I dragged my mouth across her cheek and buried my nose in her hair. I’d been dreaming of it since the night on the beach.
“Will you take me home now, Beck?” she asked, voice shaking.
“Of course,” I said. She showed me her phone—I usually hated pictures of myself, hadn’t taken one in years. I’d certainly spent more of my life frightening people than being admired. I knew some people found me sexually attractive, but I’d never once felt like I was a person with a face to be admired. Only feared. Despised, even. The recent news stories featuring my mug shots—which I’d thought I’d never see again—had made it clear how people felt about my face.
This picture, however, told a different story. Luna was laughing, filled with light, with my arms holding her tight. I looked happy as I kissed her, and she looked comfortable, and we could have been newlyweds for the obvious amount of trust between us.
My natural instinct to read body language sent back one message: this is real, Beck.
It had to be, right?
37
Luna
Beck and I roared down the highway on his motorcycle, a crystal-blue ocean to our right that grew darker and darker as the sun set and the stars burst forth. Palm trees danced overhead as the engine’s delicious vibration echoed between my thighs. I was breathless, free, leaning with Beck into every turn, aroused by the sight of his hands on this dangerous machine. The sexy competence of it all was enough to send my head spinning. On sharp turns, I just let myself feel—big man, loud bike, ocean breeze, salt air. The endless fear and turmoil that had plagued me since we’d first gotten the news about Ferris Mark was evaporating the faster Beck took us, the more curves we hugged as we raced toward home.
I didn’t know what was going to happen next on this date. Didn’t know if it was right or wrong, courageous or foolish, if it would make Jasmine happy or Sylvia cheer.
All I knew was that whatever step the universe had been pushing me toward this entire time I was ready for now.
So, so ready.
Bluewater was beautiful drenched in moonlight as we pulled in, the still water sparkling, my eccentric neighbors taking evening strolls. As Beck slowed to a gentle speed, I caught the eyes of Mr. and Mr. Jones, who were retired business executives, at least in theory, although Daisy, Cameron, Emily and I had spent a lot of nights over a lot of cocktails debating whether or not they were international spies. We swung past the lagoon where I could make out Steve’s tail—our resident alligator who’d lost his leg to a boat prop. Of everyone in the community, I was the most comfortable taking rotisserie chicken to feed our scaly friend, who seemed to have a soft spot for me. We circled the airfield, where I glimpsed Emily and Derek, dressed to the nines and boarding a helicopter. He was probably sweeping my best friend up and away to a fancy, romantic dinner.
Which meant, as we curved around our ovary-shaped block toward my house, that left only Cameron and Daisy as potential spies. While their houses were innocuously dark, they’d both invested in infrared glasses for gossip-mongering purposes.
I pressed my cheek harder to the space between Beck’s shoulder blades, desperate to breathe in his scent one last time. He idled us across my long driveway, beneath the palm trees, then behind ten-foot-tall hedges lit with tiny white fairy lights. My garage held no cars but was instead a converted open studio for yoga and meditation, lit with dangling teal and magenta lamps. The whole scene cast us in a muted, colorful glow as he pulled to a stop—moon overhead, waves nearby, the constant splash of the fountain.
“This is me, as you know,” I said. I was wrapped around Beck like a spider monkey but I couldn’t move. I was too busy jumping mental hula-hoops, trying to figure out if I should invite Beck Mason into my home. I wanted to, even if we didn’t do anything but drink cups of ginger tea and stare at each other by the pool. Even if he held my hand as I—
“I haven’t been on a date in a long time,” he said, voice husky, “but I think at some point one person has to let go.”
“Are you sure? I’ve heard one person carries the other person on their back for the rest of the night. So joke’s on you, Beck.”
He chuckled quietly. Wrapped his hands around mine and held on tight. I hadn’t realized how much I was craving this strangely intimate backward hug, but now that I was getting it I soaked it in.
“You don’t have to go anywhere, Luna,” he said.
“I do though,” I said, already envisioning an inbox that would basically scream at me until I tackled the mountains of messages. “As much as I’d love to keep doing whatever this is.”
I slid from the back. Removed my helmet and placed it on the ground. Shook out my hair way more dramatically than I needed to—but Beck seemed to like my hair and I liked teasing Beck.
“When was the last time you were on a first date?” I asked, shaking the wayward strands from my face.
“A very long time,” he said. “Not a lot of bar hook-ups end in first dates.”
“Ah,” I said. “I see.”
“When was the last time you saw Carrot?”
I tapped my lip, pretending to think. “I squeeze him in between Kale and Basil.” He was smiling, but I wanted to give him a serious answer too. “I go on dates, lots of dates. I hook up with guys but it doesn’t mean much to me. I love love in this world, cultivating it, giving it space to grow between people, between people and the environment. But…” I tilted my head in the moonlight. “It’s never been my personal priority. Wild Heart is number one.”
“Ah,” he repeated my own words. “I see.”
“Actually, let me clarify,” I said. “I’ve had many dates. But none like this one.”
“Okay,” he replied
“We should do it again sometime, is what I mean.”
Beck was straddling his bike and devouring me with a look so sexually hungry, I took a step back, dazed. His body vibrated wi
th a restrained passion that I was desperate to see unleashed. But his whole vibe also screamed I’m a gentleman and so I doubted I’d get to see that side of him tonight.
“Okay,” he repeated.
“What did I tell you about fireworks, Beck?” I said. “You’ve got to show a girl that you—”
A thick arm banded around my waist and pulled me to his chest.
On the bike, he was closer to my height and my brain overloaded being face-to-face with a man this devilishly handsome. This sincere, this compassionate. This kind.
His fingers were in my hair, confident, tilting my head back.
And then I was being kissed. Kissed. Kissed by Beck Mason. His lips were strong beneath that beard, movements deliberate, a rough kiss of feeling but also sensual, sweet. His hands held me still as his mouth moved with mine, drank me in, ravaging my lips with expert precision.
With a deep growl, he grabbed my ass and yanked me so I was straddling him on his bike. My arms wrapped around his neck and I pressed every single inch of my body against his massive one. One heartbeat, one ragged breath. Between my legs, his cock was as hard as the metal bars behind me—but his fingers caressed up my spine, my jaw, the nape of my neck. He kept kissing me, stealing my breath, searing our lips together while knuckles trailed along my neck. Those strong lips left my mouth, nipped at my jaw. One kiss along my throat… another… then another. His teeth scraped my skin as I fisted my hands in his white shirt and shuddered. A kiss, a bite, the tip of his tongue licking into my mouth, parting my lips. Our rejoining was filthier now, hungrier—evidenced by the out of control moans coming from the back of my throat. I wasn’t sure who was gasping, who was clutching. Part, breathe, kiss—his lips were sure, the kiss absent of any awkwardness. The kiss was Beck showing me his desire with his mouth and tongue.
It was the most exquisite seduction of my life.
With a barely restrained snarl, Beck yanked me, positioning my sex right over his rigid, jean-clad erection. We finally, finally, parted, both of us dragging in deep breaths, staring at each other. I was wrapped around him on his motorcycle behind my privacy bushes and so turned on I felt faint.
WILD OPEN HEARTS: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy Page 18
