Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Daisy
It’s almost midnight when I creep into the house, avoiding the floorboards that creak so I won’t wake Beckett.
I feel like a kid sneaking in after curfew. Not that I ever had a curfew or a concerned parent waiting up for me. I pretty much raised myself with varying degrees of success.
The house is dark and quiet, and judging by the absence of the Aston Martin in the driveway, Grayson and the others have gone back to the city.
After I woke up on the terrace earlier, Grayson invited me to join them for lunch but one look at Beckett’s face had me declining the invitation.
I didn’t relish the idea of being the fifth wheel either, so I drove up the coast and did a self-portrait session with the towering redwoods and rugged cliffs surrounding the beach as my backdrop.
Now I’m tired and windblown, and all I want to do is climb into that hot tub.
I flick the switch in the hallway, strip down to my bra and underwear and drop my clothes on a lounger on the terrace, then dart around the side of the house and follow the stone-paved path through the woods.
I’m not used to how dark it gets out here without the neon signs and streetlights but after a few minutes, my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and there’s enough silvery light from the moon to guide my way.
Leafy branches rustle in the breeze and the air is scented with fir and cedar and loamy earth. Pine needles from the giant conifers litter the path and cling to the soles of my feet.
I have no idea why Beckett chose to set up a hot tub this far from the house, but he likes to make everything more difficult than it needs to be.
An owl hoots in the distance and I jump, slapping my hand over my mouth to stop the scream.
I laugh at myself. It’s just an owl.
A branch snaps underfoot, but it wasn’t my foot. I freeze in my tracks, heart pounding in my throat, and run through a mental inventory of the wild animals that live in this neck of the woods and how dangerous they might be.
Another footfall sounds behind me, and goosebumps raise all the hairs on my arms.
I spin around and collide with something hard. This time I scream. A high-pitched scream that scares all the birds from the trees and echoes through the woods.
Amidst the frenzy of wings flapping and my pulse beating triple time, a low, raspy voice cuts through the chaos. “Jesus. Calm down. Are you trying to split my eardrums?”
I take a few rapid, shallow breaths, and when my heart rate returns to normal, I look up at Beckett. Not a wild animal, after all. Just the big bad wolf.
His face is cast in shadows, razor-sharp cheekbones more pronounced, and pale eyes gleam in the darkness.
It takes me a few seconds to realize that his hands are wrapped around my upper arms. Big, warm hands that could be used as lethal weapons or to soothe and comfort.
His grip is firm but not too tight with just the right amount of pressure to steady me and calm my frayed nerves.
“Why are you creeping up on me like that?”
He looks down at his hands as if just realizing they’re still wrapped around my biceps and releases me, then takes a step back, putting some distance between us. “I was in the hot tub when I heard a noise.”
“I’m on my way to the hot tub too.” His gaze dips and I’m suddenly conscious of how little I’m wearing.
My nipples have hardened into peaks, and even in the moonlight there’s no way he won’t notice.
“ That’s what you’re wearing in the hot tub?”
I shrug. “I could go naked if you prefer.” But rather than continuing this debate, I dart past him and make a beeline for the hot tub illuminated by LED lights. “I thought you could use some company.”
“You thought wrong.”
Surprise, surprise, the Dark Lord of the Manor doesn’t sound so happy about sharing.
But we’re two grown adults so there’s no reason to turn tail and run.
“You won’t even know I’m here,” I assure him.
“That’s unlikely.” He climbs into the hot tub and stretches his arms across the back, basically manspreading and taking up all the available space. “I was hoping for some peace and quiet.”
“You can’t always get what you want,” I reply cheerfully.
He’s going to have to make room for me because there’s no way I’m not getting into that water after dreaming about it all day.
When I circle the hot tub and stop on the opposite side facing him, he gives me a look that says, Don’t even think about it .
No one glowers quite as impressively as he does, but I ignore it. “Hey, big boy.” I jut out my hip and plant my hand on it. “You look like you could use some company.” I punctuate my words with an exaggerated wink.
“You have the wrong address. Go knock on some other sucker’s door. I’m not buying whatever you’re selling. Now turn around and go back where you came from.” He does a little twirly motion with his hand. “This hot tub has been reserved for the evening.”
“You should really learn how to share. Your friend Grayson said I could use it whenever I want. Unlike you, he’s charming and friendly.”
“My friend Grayson gave it as a gift. Therefore, this isn’t his hot tub,” he says. “Go home, Daisy.”
“What’s wrong, Beck? Scared of sharing a hot tub with a girl ?”
I lean over the edge, giving him a better view as I trail my hand through the water, checking the temperature.
His gaze dips to my chest and he takes in my whole body as I straighten up.
Something flashes across his face that doesn’t look like revulsion, but the look is fleeting, and he shuts it down quickly, donning his usual mask of indifference.
“If you were worried I’d steal your lingerie, you shouldn’t have been.”
“You probably date girls who wear matching sets from La Perla,” I say as I climb into the hot tub without waiting for an invitation. “How predictable. I like to mix things up.”
“I can see that.”
I sink lower into the water and settle back with a happy sigh, letting the jets massage my sore muscles.
It feels like heaven, and not even the grump across from me can spoil my happiness.
But I love messing with him so I can’t resist the urge to toy with him.
“This was a matching set until my boyfriend ripped the panties straight off my body. Just tore them in two.” I demonstrate with my hands how my fictional boyfriend tore them off my body. And then I throw my hand into the air like I’m tossing the panties over the side of the hot tub.
“ Shredded the material.” I give him a dreamy smile as my eyes drift shut. “That was a fun night.”
“I’ll bet,” Beckett says with the same level of enthusiasm as if I’d just delivered the weather report.
I’m sticking to my theory that he’s a robot and sex would be strictly missionary and completely underwhelming.
He shifts position and his leg brushes mine, sending shivers up my spine. I’m pretty sure I’m still chilly from the outside temperature, and it has absolutely nothing to do with him whatsoever.
When he twists his body and leans over the side, reaching for something, he creates a tsunami in the hot tub. After downing the wine in his glass, he pours the rest from the bottle and tosses it over his shoulder, facing forward, glass in hand.
“You’re a high-functioning alcoholic, aren’t you?” I ask pleasantly, nodding like I’ve got him all figured out.
“I need all the alcohol I can get to survive the next few months,” he mutters. So dramatic. “But that’s rich coming from the girl who got home at four in the morning, drunk off her ass.”
He must have been the one who covered me with a blanket. I lower my head to hide the smile.
Although I’m probably giving him too much credit. Beckett would never do anything that sweet. Most likely it was Grayson.
“By the time I got home, I was as sober as a church mouse,” I inform him.
“Sure you were.” He spreads out even more, shrinking the space around me so I’m forced into a tiny pocket.
Huffing, I narrow my eyes on him. This hot tub is big enough to accommodate four normal-sized people, but he’s making it feel too crowded for two.
He raises his brows. I am the master of the universe and everything, including this hot tub, is mine. Deal with it.
In the blue glow of the LED lights, he looks even more fiendish than usual.
“You have tons of space. Stop encroaching on mine.” I shove his leg with the heel of my foot, and he smirks as his leg drifts back to the exact same spot.
“What’s wrong, Daisy? You act like you’ve never been in a hot tub with a guy before.”
My gaze dips from his broad shoulders to his sculpted abs and down lower to the happy trail that leads to…whatever he’s got under the waistband of his swim trunks.
If Callie’s theory is correct, his dick is just as big as the rest of him.
“I’ve never been in a hot tub with someone so…big.”
As soon as the words are out, I regret them. Of all the adjectives I could have chosen, I had to go with big ?
This mouth should really come with a filter.
He gives me his filthiest smile. “You noticed, huh?”
“Don’t look so smug.” I stare at the stars reeling above our heads. “Men with giant penises are a huge turnoff. I once dated a guy who was so big it was painful and not in a sexy way either.” I shudder at the memory.
Sean was the worst. I was on the rebound after Finn stomped all over my heart. A particularly low period in my life before I got my act together and took a hiatus from men to work on myself.
Sean is a sculptor, and I was captivated by his art. Unfortunately, the man didn’t live up to the myth. Not by a long shot.
“He sounds like an asshole.”
I’m not sure what gives him the right to call anyone an asshole when he’s the biggest one I’ve ever met. “And you’re not?” I challenge.
“Not the kind of asshole who would hurt a woman with my giant penis . If it hurt, he was obviously doing it wrong,” he replies, his voice lower, huskier.
His eyes are at half-mast, and he looks positively filthy.
The implication was clear: That guy didn’t know how to please a woman but I do.
My cheeks flush and the temperature has suddenly risen twenty degrees. I can feel my thighs clenching. Heat spreads through my abdomen.
Okay, yeah, I’m not going there. Beckett’s dick has been the subject of way too many discussions already, so there’s no need to feed his gigantic ego by continuing down this path.
Closing my eyes, I do my best to ignore him, which is difficult.
He takes up a lot of space.
Every now and then our legs accidentally brush and my stomach flutters just the teeniest tiniest bit. But I’m actively trying to block it out and shut it down by reminding myself that he’s still the same asshole who treats me like the hired help.
Rude. Condescending. Arrogant. Abrasive.
Just a few adjectives to describe him, other than big .
“So how’s your boyfriend handling all of this?” he asks a few minutes later.
My boyfriend ? I crack one eye open. Oh right, my fictional boyfriend who ripped the panties right off my body. “Handling all of what?”
“You living under the same roof with another man…brushing up against his leg in a hot tub and talking about the size of his penis.” He holds out his arms like he’s some kind of prize to be won. “Any man in their right mind would be jealous.”
I throw my head back and laugh like the very idea is ludicrous. “Oh, please. Are you implying that he should be jealous of you ?” I laugh again and shake my head with an amused smile, like you’re so funny . “There’s nothing to be jealous of .” My meaning is clear but Beckett smirks like I said the opposite. “Besides, he trusts me.”
“He sounds like a fool.”
“Not everyone is as cynical as you. And not everyone is a fool or an asshole. He loves me madly and deeply and puts me above all others.”
“So tell me more about this unicorn.” He swirls the wine in his glass and takes a sip. “How long have you been together?”
“Forever, really. We’re soulmates.” I cringe internally but forge on, spinning a tale of true love. “We knew from the moment we met that we belonged together. It was like searching for one’s true home and finally finding it. When we looked into each other’s eyes, we knew the search was over.” I sigh dramatically, my hand over my heart. “We’d found our home.”
“Note to self,” Beckett says, writing a note on the sky with his index finger. “Buy more stock in Velveeta.”
I’m trying to hold in my laughter but it’s not working.
Points to Beckett. Even I want to gag at how cheesy that sounded.
I lose the fight and laugh so hard I have to wipe the tears from my eyes.
I guess I should have toned it down a bit and made it sound at least a little bit believable.
But who knew Beckett could be so funny?
“Now tell me the truth. Do you have a boyfriend?”
I tilt my head and give him a coy smile. “Would you be jealous if I said yes?”
He huffs out a laugh. “There’s nothing to be jealous of .”
Touché. But his tone is so scathing and his lip curls like it did when he saw me in the airport like I would be the last girl he’d ever go for. Which is fine by me. Not like I want anything to do with Beckett Heyward.
Why should I even care what he thinks of me?
I go back to staring at the stars, searching for the brightest one but failing to find it.
A few moments of blissful silence pass before he says, “I was just curious to know if you’re working alone or if you have a partner in crime.” Ice blue eyes meet mine and there’s no trace of humor in them.
And just like that, this isn’t so much fun anymore.
I don’t know if that was another dig comparing me to my mother or if it was just a shot in the dark.
Either way, I don’t like what he’s insinuating, and I have no interest in spending another minute in his presence.
So I push myself out of the water and sit on the edge of the hot tub.
Noting the way his gaze roams down my body, I let my knees fall open and lean back on my hands, laughing to myself when he quickly averts his head.
His jaw is clenched and the little muscle in his cheek pulses.
I’ve won this round, using the only weapon I have at my disposal, but the victory feels cheap and hollow.
I pride myself on not using my body or my looks to get what I want and I’m angry with myself for stooping so low.
But he’s not as invincible as he would like me to believe. He’s made of flesh and blood, with flaws and weaknesses and human needs just like the rest of us.
Guess he’s not a robot, after all.
“Well, it’s been fun, but I need my beauty rest,” I say breezily, slinging one leg over the side and then the other, and giving him a view of my backside as I slide to the ground. “I promised to call my partner in crime and let him know how things are progressing,” I call over my shoulder as I saunter away singing ABBA’s “Money, Money, Money.”
It’s a double whammy–a song about a girl looking for a wealthy man to supplement her finances by a Swedish band.
Astrid was–still is, I guess–half Swedish and half Norwegian.
She grew up on a farm in Minnesota and was raised by a stern father who kicked her out of the house when a horse trainer knocked her up at seventeen.
The story goes that they ran away together to build a new life. My mother was still young and naive after living a sheltered life; he was older and more street smart, and she was completely enamored by his charms and good looks.
After I was born, he lost a shitload of money betting on the horses and borrowed from a loan shark. When it came time to pay off his debt, he didn’t have the money so he forced Astrid to do his dirty work.
That was how it all began.
My father was a real prince—a drunk, a con man, a gambler, and a thief.
So while I don’t condone the things Astrid has done in her life, I understand how she became who she is and why she made the choices she did.
I’ve never seen her as a victim and never will, but circumstances beyond her control drove her to take drastic measures to ensure her safety and mine.
My mother taught me a valuable lesson at a young age. Survival is a talent, Daisy.
Humans are programmed to survive, and as I’ve learned over the years, people will do just about anything to save their own skin.
They will also go to great lengths to win back their freedom. And my mother…she went all the way.
But I’m not my mother. I’m just the girl Robert Heyward tasked with righting her wrongs.
Although, the more time I spend with Beckett Heyward, the less likely it seems that I’ll succeed.