Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Beckett
Don’t ask me why I pretended to be Daisy’s boyfriend.
It just seemed like the most natural thing to do at the time. And it was surprisingly easy to the point where I almost started believing we were a real couple. But we were just playing a game of pretend that had absolutely no bearing on reality.
The kiss, however, was very real.
A lapse in judgment. A moment of weakness. A big mistake. Best forgotten.
I’ve always preferred the Beast.
She would have to say that, wouldn’t she?
Not that memorable, my ass. I could still taste her on my tongue hours later. She left crescent-shaped grooves in my skin as a reminder that she was there. Sank her teeth and claws into me.
And I wanted more. I wanted all of her. Every single inch of silky skin. Every ounce of pain and pleasure. Every moan and whimper.
Now that I’ve had a small taste, I want to do so much more than kiss her.
I want to feel her tight pussy clenching around my cock as I drive into her.
I want to devour her.
But despite how much I want her—and I do—taking what I want could never lead to anything good.
Sex would only complicate an already complicated situation.
We still have to live together. Work together. Be all up in each other’s space. All of which defies the concept of a no-strings-attached casual hookup. My one and only specialty.
So keeping my distance is the best line of defense. Which is exactly what I’ve been doing for the past week.
If she’s noticed, she hasn’t let on. She hasn’t invaded my space or asked for a repeat performance.
If anything, I’d say she’s avoiding me. Which is just as well. That’s the way it has to stay for the next two months until we’re free and clear to move on and forget that we were ever forced to live under the same roof.
I’m halfway through my run when rain starts pelting down, and by the time I get back to the house, I’m soaked to the skin.
I leave my muddy sneakers by the door and cross the limestone tiles, skirting around a scaffolding tower in the middle of the foyer. A bucket of fresh plaster has been abandoned in the hallway and there’s no sign of Caiden other than his truck parked out front.
From the kitchen, I hear his voice followed by Daisy’s laughter. “That’s hilarious.”
I can feel my eyes rolling. They’re practically besties now.
Whereas I’m keeping her at arm’s length, Caiden engages her in conversation all the fucking time. They’ve even started drinking their morning coffee together.
“Are you sure your wrist is okay?” Caiden asks gruffly.
I pause on the stairs, my hand on the oak banister, and wait for her response.
“It’s fine. Really.”
“I still think we should take you to the ER and get it checked out.”
“No, really. It feels better already. The ice is really helping.”
All I want is a hot shower, but my feet are carrying me to the kitchen like they have a will of their own.
I stop in front of the island, my gaze dipping to Daisy’s right hand wrapped in a dishtowel. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing,” Daisy says. “Don’t even worry about it. It was just…” She rolls her eyes at herself. “I did something stupid.”
“It wasn’t her fault,” Caiden says, jumping to her defense. “Have you seen the wall in her bedroom?”
“What does the wall have to do with her hand?”
Daisy sighs. “Like I said, it was stupid, and it was totally my fault. It’s not like the wall attacked me,” she says with a laugh.
“What happened?” I repeat.
“I punched a wall. But you should see the wall.” She lets out a low whistle.
I frown, my hands going to my hips. Whenever something bad happens to her, she tries to make a joke of it. “Daisy,” I say sharply, losing patience.
She sighs. “I take a photo from my window every day and I always leave my windows open to let the fresh air in,” she says. “This morning, I went to take a photo, but I slipped on a puddle, lost my balance and put my hand on the wall for support. But somehow, my hand went right through the wall.”
“Your hand went right through the wall?” I repeat. I don’t know why I’m questioning this when she just told me it did. But these walls are over a hundred years old. It’s not that easy to put your hand through all those layers of plaster.
“See? I told you it was stupid. The whole thing sounds too ridiculous to be true,” she says, laughing at herself.
Caiden and I aren’t laughing though. She has a bruise on her cheekbone and a split lip too, something I only notice when she turns her head. “Did the wall punch you in the face, too?”
She laughs then winces and swipes her tongue over her lip catching the blood. “No, the floor did that when I stumbled over my suitcase. It was a comedy of errors.”
“I think she needs to see a doctor,” Caiden says.
“Let me see your hand,” I say quietly.
Daisy scowls. “Seriously, you guys are making a big deal out of nothing. I’m fine.”
“I’m going up to fix that wall,” Caiden says. “Beck, I need to show you something.” He jerks his chin toward the door.
“Yeah, okay.” I point at Daisy. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
“Can’t wait,” she mutters as I walk out the door and trail Caiden up the stairs and down the hallway to Daisy’s room.
I stop short on the threshold. The wall has a gaping hole in it, and you can see straight through to the stone. “Jesus Christ.”
“She didn’t do all that. Her hand went through right around here,” he says, pointing to a spot in the middle. “But I started ripping it down to see how bad it was. This whole wall needs to be replastered. Luckily, we got the new roof on before the rain started, but this isn’t new. This is from years of water damage.”
He points to the brown stains on the ceiling. “We’re lucky this whole ceiling didn’t fall in on her. I’ve checked the other bedrooms and there’s some minor damage, but this one is by far the worst.”
Guilt punches me in the gut.
I chose this room for her because it had the most water damage. But I was only thinking of it from a purely aesthetic standpoint, never stopping to think it posed a health and safety risk.
Now I feel like an asshole. Which seems to be a trend lately. “I’ll move her into a different bedroom.” My gaze lands on her suitcase. Still lying open on the floor. Still unpacked.
Unlike my room, hers looks like a tornado swept through it.
A neat freak, she is not. I can’t even see the upholstery of the chair in the corner with all her clothes strewn across it.
“You should move her into your bedroom,” Caiden says with a smirk. “I’ll vouch for you and tell her there was only one bed available.”
I hold up both middle fingers on my way out and hear him laughing as I slam the bathroom door shut.
After a quick shower, I jog down the stairs and find Daisy in the kitchen talking on the phone, so I busy myself by making a fresh pot of coffee and breakfast while shamelessly eavesdropping on her conversation.
“I love your loyalty,” she says. “You’ll be the star of the show.”
She laughs. “I’ll bet you’ll be decked out in peacock feathers and emeralds.” From the corner of my eye, I can see Daisy smiling while she listens to whoever is on the other end. “Well, whatever you wear, I’m sure you’ll look fabulous.”
I’m buttering toast and scrambling enough eggs to feed an army when I remember that Daisy always eats oranges for breakfast.
“How’s Mesopotamia these days?” She eyes me while I peel an orange.
“Oh, that sounds even more fascinating. I’m looking forward to hearing all about it.”
She listens and nods and her brows shoot up to her hairline when I set the orange pieces in front of her. I ignore it and pour two mugs of coffee, adding a dash of milk to each, then plate the eggs and toast and grab utensils from the drawer.
“Yes. Everyone is just so thrilled to have me here.”
The sarcasm in her tone is thick and I’m guessing that jab was aimed at me.
“Bye, Anna. I miss you, too. I can’t wait to sip oolong tea and walk through the park with you.”
She cuts the call and sets her phone next to her with the screen facing down. “That was my neighbor. She’s eighty-two and she has a more active social life than I do,” Daisy says with a smile and looks down at the plate I set in front of her. “What’s all this?”
“Breakfast.”
“Um yeah, I can see that. But you’ve never made breakfast before. I’m the only one who ever does any cooking around here.”
“If you don’t want it…” I reach for the plate and start pulling it away, but she holds her fork in her left hand and makes stabbing motions. I release the plate because I wouldn’t put it past her to gouge me with the tines.
“Don’t touch my food. I want it. I’m just surprised you know how to use the stove. What other hidden talents do you have?”
I give her a wicked grin. “I have plenty of hidden talents.”
“Ugh, not that again. We’re not talking about your dick today. I’ve been beaten down enough for one morning.”
I leave that one alone. It sounds as if she’s had a lot of bad penis-related incidents.
I douse my cheesy scrambled eggs with hot sauce and fork a bite into my mouth. “So you picked a fight with the wall and the floor and they both won, huh? Pick on someone your own size next time.”
She laughs then groans. “God. I feel like such an idiot. I swear, this could only happen to me.” Her gaze moves to the window.
The rain has tapered off to a drizzle, but the sky is still gray and cloudy, and a layer of fog hangs over the mountains.
Daisy lets out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping. “I’m supposed to be helping Callie clean out tanks today. And I promised Neil I would help with the bottling.”
“As your boss, I’m giving you the day off.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure they can get by without you.”
“I’m not so sure about that. I’m the glue that holds this place together.”
I almost laugh at that one. The funny part is that I can tell she really believes it.
After I clean up the breakfast dishes, I pull up a stool across from her and wiggle my fingers. “Let me see your wrist.” She promptly hides her hand behind her back. I press my lips together in disapproval. “You’re not seven anymore, Daisy. That’s no longer cute. Let me see it.”
“Which school did you get your medical degree from? Oh, that’s right, you don’t have one,” she sasses, but reluctantly holds out her hand.
I take it in both of mine and try to be as gentle as possible, like I’m holding a baby bird. Her wrist looks swollen and tender with some bruising.
It looks bad but as she was so quick to point out, I am not in fact a doctor so I can’t make an official diagnosis.
I release her hand and stand up from my seat. “Come on. We’re going to the ER.”
“No. Seriously. It’s not that big of a deal. It’s probably just a sprain. It will heal on its own.”
“If it’s broken, it won’t heal properly?—”
“It’s not broken,” she insists.
This girl. She’s so fucking stubborn.
“Remind me where you got your medical degree from?” I snap my fingers. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t have one.” She presses her lips into a flat line, not amused. “Come on, Daisy. I’m not going to argue about this with you. We’re going. If it turns out to be no big deal, then fine. But we won’t know for sure until we get some X-rays. You don’t want to mess with this.”
“I’m willing to take the risk that it will heal on its own. It barely even hurts.”
Might as well call her out on her own bluff. “Prove it. Make a fist with your right hand and punch me in the face.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Do it. Make a fist.” She can’t even make a fist without wincing. “Move it up and down. Rotate it.” I make the annoying sound of a buzzer when she fails to do any of those things. “Let’s go,” I say brusquely.
“I’m sure you have better things to do than to sit around in an ER waiting room for hours. It’s a waste of time for a non-emergency situation. I’m going to be fine.”
I push my hand through my hair and sigh, exasperated. “We’re going. If you don’t move your ass, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out to the car,” I threaten.
She lifts her chin. “I’d like to see you try.”
I laugh. She’s really asking for it, isn’t she?
“I’m six-foot-four. A wall of muscle. You’re five-foot-nothing. This isn’t even a fair fight.”
She scoffs. “Like that’s ever stopped you before, you big bully.”
Her words hit harder than she probably intended.
You would think that someone who was bullied would never resort to bullying.
But that’s pretty much all I’ve done since our very first text.