by MJ Fields
So I wait for the storm to pass as Nikki’s wanting to discuss ‘last night.’
Raff’s trying to get her to choose between coffee, tea, or cocoa.
She’s playing coy, saying something along the lines of, hates men with money, blah, blah, blah, and I am utterly bored.
My hand is on the doorknob when I hear Raff pipe up. “What hotel are you applying to?”
I open the door when she says, “It’s a chain of resorts called Hawthorne Hotels & Resorts. Like I said, I don't even know if I’ll get the job, but it’s a job I know I’m qualified to do.”
Well, well, well, I think as I walk into the kitchen. “What degrees do you hold, and where was it earned?”
“Jesus Christ, Becks. First, my studio, and now my bathroom?”
“Morning, Raff.” I smile at his annoyance. “I thought I heard my godson and came over to say hello. Then I tried to hide in the bathroom, being the gentleman I am, so that you two could sort your shit without interruption.”
I look back at Nikki. “Could you answer my question?”
She glances at Raff, obviously trying to seek his approval. Smart girl, I literally just walked out of the bathroom, and she probably thinks I’m half mad.
“My economics degree is from Cornell University.”
“Ivy League.” Impressed, I step toward her. “Tell me more.”
“I worked for a large, privately owned family real estate office in New York City for the past four years.”
“Is that right? Commercial or residential?”
She answers quickly, “Both. Retail, as well.”
“Outside partners?”
“No, they never took any outside money.”
I whistle. “Deep pockets.”
“Very.”
Leaning down on the marble counter, I ask. “Why did you leave?”
Raff steps in. “Okay, Becks, that’s good enough.”
Ignoring him, I hold out my hand. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Beckett Hawthorne of Hawthorne Hotels & Resorts USA.”
She stands and shakes my hand, and only now do I realize she doesn’t have any pants on, “I’m so sorry. I should have put two and two together.”
Then she bites her lip adorably. I can see why he’s smitten.
“Understand how that could be done. You’ve just woken up. You haven't had your coffee. Hell, you haven't even put pants on.”
“Okay, Jesus, fuck. Fuck,” Raff sputters as he runs over and blocks my view of her. “Turn the fuck around, Beckett.”
I turn around to give them some privacy but continue this impromptu interview. “So why was it that you left?”
“It was my ex-fiancé’s family's company. When our relationship dissolved, so did my job.”
Raff mutters something inaudible.
“How much did you make?”
“Not as much as I should have made, but I had perks.”
“That’s not a number.” I walk over to the coffee machine and pour myself a cup.
“I was paid eight hundred dollars a week.”
“Please tell me you’re joking,” Raff hisses, “or I will kill that son-of-a-bitch. Did he at least pay you in cash, off the books?”
“The company paid off student loans, travel, and vacations, all of my living expenses, too.”
Shaking my head, I turn around. “The ex is a multimillionaire and should damn well have taken care of the woman he collared.”
The shocked look on her face gives me pause, and then I realize what I just said wasn’t a common phrase to some. Hell, it wasn’t all that common to me until Sarah.
I quickly right my wording. “I do mean give a ring to, aye? I’ll start you at a hundred thousand a year, with room for growth. The first six months or so, you can work out of Holiday Springs. I’m planning to rent an office near the Sheppard property, and if you can help me track the owner and get him to sell the property to me, or us,” I look at Raff, “you’ll get a bonus and a raise.”
“I never agreed to a partnership,” Raff sighs loudly.
I roll my eyes and continue speaking to her. “You’re local, and it may be the only way he’ll sell, and that’s if you can find him.”
Nikki looks back at me.
“A nice office. Three separate rooms inside. I have one woman who can train you on company policy, and then you can train her on the economic side of the business. There should be another who will join you soon, full-time at first, then no more than twenty hours a week. When can you start?”
“Are there benefits?” She clears her throat.
“Yes. I’ll have the information emailed to you by my secretary.”
“And what about vacation time?” Raff takes a sip of his coffee.
“Four weeks a year. Large discounts on stays at any Hawthorne property, worldwide.”
“Eight weeks,” Raff counters.
“Don't be ridiculous,” I huff.
Raff sneers, “Don’t be an arsehole.”
“Fine. But during my wedding and honeymoon, no staff will be allowed vacation time.”
“Congratulations on your pending nuptials.” Nikki smiles. “When are they to take place?”
“She’s being difficult, but as soon as she says yes, plans will be made for swift execution.”
It’s wrong that I get so much amusement out of people's first impressions of me. I’m not that difficult, for fuck’s sake. “Now, when can you start?”
“I’d like to give two weeks’ notice at my current place of employment.”
“One week should be sufficient.” I walk briskly to the door, taking the mug with me. Opening the door, I turn back. “See you both on the football field. Two hours.”
Chapter Twenty One
Three things can’t be hidden: coughing, poverty, and love.
-Yiddish proverb
Sarah
“He what?!” I yell into the phone, pacing in my one-bedroom apartment.
“He fired me from the hotel. I just got an email from—”
“He what!” I yell again.
“Are you hard of hearing or—”
I cut Julia off. “This is about me. I quit and—”
“You what!” she yells at me now.
“I can’t work with the man. He’s infuriating,” and sexy. “He’s pushing me emotionally,” and into me physically. “I just can’t be there. Knowing he’s there.” Because I am in love with a man, I have no business being in love with.
“Sarah, you have a car payment and an apartment. You can’t just quit.”
I flop down on the couch and open my computer; the screen lights up as I look at the dozens of tabs opened on my internet browser—all in search of a job.
“I’ll be fine. Let’s worry about you and—”
“Let’s back this up and—” She stops. “Motherfucker is calling me. Hold my hoops, or pretend to while I—”
“Oh my God, just do whatever he says, save your job!”
“You’re my—”
“I’m hanging up on you. Save your job. I may need a couch to sleep on.” I hit end and scream.
Yes, I scream, and then I curl into a ball and cry.
I have no clue how I hear my phone as I sob into my pillow, but I do.
Sniffing, I sit up and grab it off the table and look at the screen. It’s Julia.
“Did you grovel? You didn’t have enough time to grovel, he’s—”
“An asshole,” she huffs.
I sniff again.
“Are you crying?”
“Of course I am. I’ve fucked up your life. Layla’s—”
“He’s in love with you, and you know it. He’s—”
Now I cut her off, “What does that have to do with—”
Her voice raises but remains calm. “We can get into that in a minute. You admitted you were falling for him.”
“You know, I can’t do that, Julia. Not to him, and not to the me—”
“You already have! You fell in love with him, and he fell in
love with you, too.”
“And now I’m a mess. I can’t do love, Julia, you know —”
“I’m sending you an address. Get yourself together and hear him out.”
“Why are you sticking up for him? He fired you because I quit!”
Sighing, she says, “I’m behind you one hundred percent. Okay, forget it. I won’t text the address for you to go try to get our jobs back.”
“Your job. I quit. Send it. I’ll threaten harassment or—”
“You will not.” She laughs at me. My friend laughs. At. Me. “It’s sent.”
“If I go to jail, don’t you dare bail me out. I need a vacation.”
Soccer? He’s playing soccer as I sit hiding in my vehicle, which I’m pretty certain at some point—in the near future—will become my freaking home. I’ll get a cute little tree-shaped freshener that says Home Sweet Home. It won’t be that bad.
He loves me. I love him.
Why, why, why?
I look at the dashboard clock and lean back, close my eyes, and try to relax.
I hear a light tap on my window and startle. I must have fallen asleep.
Uncurling myself, I look out the window at a freshly showered Beckett in a hunter green cable knit sweater that hugs his muscles and brings out the color in his amazing eyes. He’s wearing dark jeans and has a fancy looking leather gym bag slung over his broad shoulder.
Who the hell carries a leather gym bag? Beckett, of course.
I sit up and wipe the sleep from my eyes as he opens the door. “Move over, Sarah.”
Before I even have a chance to think about anything at all, I’m crawling over the console, and he’s sliding into the driver’s side.
I cross my arms over my chest I turn to face him, and watch as he adjusts the seat, then the mirror.
He pulls his phone from his jacket and taps out something, a message. Within seconds he receives one in return.
He then places his phone in the cupholder, starts the vehicle, and places his hand behind my headrest.
“I asked you to leave me alone.”
His eyes are smiling, but he’s doing his best to hold back. “You said not to look you up. I didn’t. You came to me. You attempted to resign. I fired you instead. And you thanked me for the pounding.”
“I—”
“You came to me. Now I’m going to take you back to a place that now seems more like home than Ireland and tie your arse to the bed after I pound you again, so you don’t leave if I fall asleep. I’m exhausted from you invading my thoughts, be it while awake or trying to sleep.” His voice softens. “It’s been weeks, Sarah. I haven’t slept in weeks. As a matter of fact, I haven’t slept since the night before I left to go back to Ireland where I told my brothers I would be staying in the US to build our presence, and the woman I lo —”
“No,” I whisper.
“Enough!”
Never have I heard his voice raise until now. It shocks me.
“I never wanted to fall in love, yet I did!” His voice softens. “Never wanted kids, but you say the word, and we’ll adopt a dozen. You’ve infected me with this thing, this… love, and you better damn well accept it and everything that comes along with it—and with me.”
Speechless, I am completely and totally speechless, numb, and…in love, and it scares me to death.
“I’ve just poured my heart out to you. Say something, damn it.”
Tears fall like a tropical rainstorm, and he very tenderly wipes them away. “I don’t ever want you to see me sick.”
“You won’t ever be again.” He says it as if speaking the words makes it so.
“You don’t know that.” I pull away from his touch slowly.
“Would you expect me to sit thousands of miles away if I knew you were sick? Do you think I’d not come for you?”
“You wouldn’t know. I’d make sure of it.”
“As if I wouldn’t find out.”
“You fired Julia,” I scowl.
“From that position, yes. She’s proven she’s on my side as well as yours, so—”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” His green eyes smile as he reaches over and grips the side of my head, brushing his thumb across my cheek erasing my tears.
I can’t help but press into his touch. “She’s a traitor.”
“No, Sarah, she knows you deserve more than you’ll allow, and I will spend my lifetime breaking you of that.”
“I can’t carry a child, Beckett. And if I get sick again, I won’t want you there. I wouldn’t want you to see—”
“The fact that you think you could keep me away is laughable.” I start to object, and he presses his thick thumb over my lips. “Just as I’d want you beside me if I ever fell ill.”
His hand moves to the back of my head. “I love you, and I’ve never said those words to a woman unrelated to me. I beg you to tell me the sa—”
“I love you, and it terrifies me.”
He closes his eyes and smiles. It’s mesmerizing. It’s hypnotizing. It’s…everything.
My heart does burst again, but this time it doesn’t break first.
Watching his eyes open, twinkling with delight coupled with that insanely beautiful smile, I shake my head and repeat the words that seem to have caused it. “I love you, Beckett.”
“I know.” He laughs as he pulls me toward him and kisses me in the sweetest way Beckett Hawthorne has ever kissed me.
His lips pressed to mine, and I feel him smile as he says, “I love you, Sarah Golden. Let’s you and I go celebrate at the townhouse.”
“My plants—”
“Your plants will be moving again.”
I sit back, smiling like a fool, and shake my head. “I think you’d like my new—”
“No.”
“It’s cute.”
He sits back and sighs loudly, puts the vehicle in reverse, and begins backing up. “No.”
“Love doesn’t work that way. I get to—”
“Still no.”
“You’re infuriating.”
He laughs. “You’re one to talk.”
“But—”
“No.”
Once he’s backed out and pulled out onto the road, he takes my hand, holds it to his lips, and kisses the back of it softly, reverently, over and over again.
“I need you to understand something.” His tone is now serious. “I never walked away from you, and I never will.”
I believe him. I truly do.
“Next time you decide to leave in the middle of the night, maybe you could leave a note,” I say quietly.
He chuckles softly against my hand, presses a kiss to it, and says, “Shall I sign it ‘thanks for the pounding?’”
To that, I can’t help but giggle.
Chapter Twenty Two
Cha robh dithis riamh a’ fadadh teine nach do las eatarra.
(Two never kindled a fire but it lit between them.)
- Irish proverb
Beckett
Stepping out of the vehicle and onto the brick drive, I inhale the scent of the wind and the taste of the crisp mountain air, and the only thing that comes to mind is—home.
Never in all my travels did I get that feeling, until Sarah.
I hurry around the front of the vehicle, pissed that I had a moment, and forgot what being someone’s man entailed.
“I will get the door for you from now on.”
“Yes, sir,” she says softly, and that phrase, unlike the air, seems bitter now.
I grab her hand and pull to stop her. She turns and looks at me with a question in her eyes.
“Beckett,” I state firmly, wanting nothing more than to hear my own name on her lips.
She moves her lips back and forth like she’s fighting a smile.
“Becks works, too,” I say as I quickly scoop her up in my arms.
She grabs my shoulders, laughing. “What are you doing?”
“Carrying the future Mrs. Haw
thorne into our home.”
“Are you asking me to marr—”
“No. Not yet. There are steps that must be taken. I’ll do this the right way, Sarah. You’ve seen but one side of me.” I quickly open the door and step in. “I was raised right, and I don’t half-arse anything.”
I kick the door shut behind me and hurry to the top of the stairs with her in my arms.
Once in the bedroom, I set her on her feet, and remove her clothes, piece by piece, starting with her shirt, and making my way to her shoes.
I immediately notice the fuzzy socks with shamrocks on them and look up.
“Oh, God,” she grumbles. “Can you ignore—”
“For now, yes. But you clearly missed me as much and—”
“Of course, I did, but—”
Standing up, I toss the socks aside. “No more buts, Sarah.”
She nods and smiles the prettiest damn smile I’ve ever seen. “No more buts.”
My heart is beating hard against my chest as I drop to my knees and kiss my way up her legs. Between kisses, I tell her what she needs to hear, and I desperately need to say, “You are the one and only love of my life.”
“Beckett,” she whispers as I inhale the slightly floral scent of her skin.
“I swear I'll lose my mind if I don’t have you soon.”
She inhales my name. “Beckett.”
I tease her quivering lips open with my tongue, moving slowly from lips to her jaw and down her neck, nipping the soft skin behind her ear before dropping to my knees.
I work my way up her leg, forcing myself to avoid her center.
Running my nose across her pelvic bone, I groan with a deep need. “If I start here, I’ll never stop.”
“I want you inside of me,” she whimpers.
I kiss up her stomach, my hands trailing behind now, cupping her ass. My mouth captures one of her taut little nips, sucking then biting, pulling, tugging.
“Beckett.”
Never has my name sounded so damn good. I release her nipple and brush my lips over hers, pushing them apart with my tongue, stroking hers with mine as I push myself up to rid myself of the clothing that’s hindering skin-to-skin contact.
