10. Chapter 9
Darcy
I've been at the mansion for over an hour now, and so far I've successfully avoided Beck Morrison.
Stretched out at the edge of the most ridiculous pool I've ever lounged beside, I sip my second margarita and let the sun warm my face, trying to get some kind of work done as I tap at my tablet.
Somewhere inside the sprawling glass mansion, the Morrison family is making enough noise to suggest Zoey's arrival has triggered either a reunion or a minor structural collapse.
Either that or Beck is finally home from the arena.
I sink back into my sun lounger because out here by this ridiculous pool, it's all ocean breezes, Diego's guacamole perfection, and margaritas strong enough to rewire my brain.
It should be relaxing, right?
Except Josie is beside me, mid-spiral for the seventh time in fifteen minutes.
“Am I sweating? I think I’m sweating.” She tips her sunglasses lower and stares at me, her green eyes half-panic, half-desperation. "Can you tell?"
“You look fine,” I assure her, adjusting the tablet resting on my lap. On the screen, Beck Morrison’s evaluation is glaring at me along with an email from Colin requesting an urgent update. Whatever that means. “Drink another margarita.”
“That doesn’t answer my question!” Josie's voice pitches higher. “Fine could still mean sweaty. Or like... glistening, which Declan thinks is sexy, but I absolutely—"
“Drink. The margarita,” I repeat firmly, not looking up from the screen.
Josie groans and flops dramatically back onto the lounger, her glass tilting dangerously close to spilling over. “I just want Zoey to like me. Is that too much to ask?”
“She already likes you.”
“She doesn’t! She likes that I provided everyone with an opportunity to eat snacks and drink margaritas!”
I exhale, skimming my notes on Beck for the fourth time.
I'm so far behind on this report that I have no choice but to try and get some work done while 'supporting' my best friend and her attempt to woo her future sister-in-law.
I start typing again, the same line I've been working on for ten minutes now.
Subject is showing strong community engagement. My thumbs hesitate over the screen as my brain unhelpfully chimes in: Also, the best mouth I’ve ever kissed.
My cheeks flush and I viciously backspace the thought. Again.
Professional. Stay professional.
“Oh, my God, are you deleting something again?” Josie’s sharp intake of breath breaks through my mental spiraling.
“No,” I lie quickly, the screen dimming as if it’s joining in on the betrayal.
Josie twists toward me like a coiled spring. “What? No! Let me see your nerd notes. Was it scandalous? Was it about him?”
There's more noise booming from inside the mansion. Shit. Maybe Beck has finally arrived. My stomach flips, followed by an entirely less respectable throb between my thighs when I think about kissing him again.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
“Go away! It’s work,” I bite out, tilting the screen away from Josie's prying eyes. "I need to update this evaluation before Colin fires me!"
“Ohhh no, Darcy Madden,” Josie says in a slow, accusing sing-song. She sits up straighter, her sunglasses slipping into her lap. “Did something happen between you two? It wasn't your mother who smudged your lipstick last night, was it?”
I look at her.
“No.” I swallow hard, refusing to lose my friend again by being dishonest. “No. It wasn't.”
"I knew it!" Josie grins wickedly. “Oh my God, you kissed Beck Morrison, didn’t you?”
"Shhhh!" I shoot up, nearly knocking both my tablet and the margherita over. I throw her a look that I hope screams stop talking as Mason and Diego burst out with a barrel of laughter over by the table behind us. "Could you be any louder?!"
Her gasp is louder than it has any right to be. “YOU DID.”
I groan, lowering the tablet onto my lap. “Josie—”
“When? WHERE?!" She sets her drink aside. "Did he initiate? Was there tongue? Darcy Madden, you better not skip details."
This is torture. Absolute torture.
“I’m not doing this here.”
“Oh, you’re definitely doing this.” Josie’s wide grin is back. “Come on, I’m stressed as hell over here! Be supportive! Distract me with the details!”
I clench my jaw, staring hard at the tablet in my lap.
“I don’t have details,” I lie. Again.
“Fuck off,” she sings. “You’re getting so bad at lying. You need to practice that before you eventually claim the Bears GM job.”
My brain screeches to a stop.
Wait.
“You think I could be GM?” I look across at Josie, suddenly serious in my expression.
Josie's expression goes blank for a second, like she's genuinely confused by which part of that sentence has caught my attention.
“Darcy, you could absolutely be GM.”
My stomach does this ridiculous little flutter that has nothing whatsoever to do with Beck Morrison for once.
“Really?”
"Well…" She lifts her sunglasses for a second to look at me. “Do you disappear for half the day to go surfing instead of doing your job?”
“No.”
“Then you're already outperforming Colin Holden.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “That is not how executive recruitment works.”
“Should be.” She retrieves her margarita and takes a smug sip. “Although Colin probably doesn't make out with the players he's evaluating, so I suppose he's got you there.”
“Josie!”
“What? I'm trying to give you balanced performance feedback.”
My mouth opens, ready to protest, ready to shut this entire conspiracy theory down, but a shadow falls long across both our loungers before I can get a second word out.
I glance up, and there he is. All six-foot-two of tempting muscle-soaked trouble.
“Oh good,” Beck remarks casually, leaning down between us.
He's wearing a plain white tee that's soft and stretched just right across his broad chest, with a small Bears logo right over his pec that just makes it even more delicious. He's wearing black jeans that are surprisingly snug for a man of his stature.
Or are they… too snug?
Nah. Never too snug when you've got an ass like that.
His cologne swarms the air around me, and when I look up, that mischievous Morrison blue gaze drops directly to my tablet.
"What's up, ladies?" Beck grins. “I’d hate to think that my tongue might be influencing the integrity of the Bears' analytics department. Thinking about me again, Spreadsheet?"
I give Josie the world’s most murderous glare.
She looks like she might explode laughing. "Annnnnd that's my queue to leave. Good luck, Darce."
Josie all but skips away, which feels like a betrayal until I see where she’s headed. Straight into Declan's arms, where he wraps her up like she’s the best thing he’s touched all week.
Fine. Cute. Whatever.
Beck settles himself into the empty lounger Josie left behind, sprawling out with the kind of lazy confidence that makes it impossible to look away.
His long, lean body stretches, muscles shifting beneath his t-shirt, and I swear I can see every flex, like he was sculpted specifically to wreck my focus. The sun catches on the sun-bleached tips of his hair, falling messily across his forehead in a way that begs for my fingers to push it back.
He just sits there, completely at ease, like he’s got all the time in the world.
And all I can think about is how unfair it is that one man can look that good doing absolutely nothing.
He glances my way, frowning at the tablet now sitting ignored in my lap.
“You’re not really working are you?” His voice is full of mock horror, dripping in disbelief. “Darcy, we're lounging poolside next to a literal infinity pool. Your mother would be disappointed.”
“I’m doing my job,” I reply firmly, shifting to sit up straighter and forcing glare-level focus back onto my tablet.
You have boundaries, Darcy. Boundaries are good.
He leans in lazily, his arm brushing mine as he glances at the screen.
“But isn't watching me your job?” he asks slowly, smirking the entire time. “Or is it possible you’re just avoiding facing the fact you kissed me last night and you thoroughly enjoyed it?”
I snap my head toward him.
“I—no. That’s not—” I stumble and hate myself for it.
He looks so fucking pleased with himself.
“Not what?” His gaze flickers down to my mouth for a second too long before meeting my eyes again.
“That kiss," I manage more evenly, "was a mistake. And you know it."
"Interesting." Beck’s grin deepens. “Because I distinctly remember someone kissing me like—” He leans a little closer, glancing over his shoulder before his voice drops to that deep gravel that nearly removes my panties for me. “Like they couldn’t stop.”
I glance toward the mansion, desperate for a distraction, but it’s pointless.
Beck is relentless. Relentless and hot.
Seriously.
He might be right.
I don't know how much longer I can resist this man.
First he crowds me in my office, muttering dangerous things about making me do things I'd never dreamed of. Then he kisses me after slowly dragging out every desire I've never so much as wished for before.
What would happen if you got to choose who you date?
The thing is… do I want to date Beck? Or do I just want to sample what that might feel like?
“Anyway…" Beck slides further down the lounger, stretching his arms above his head, letting the sun soak into every bronzed inch of his skin. Totally not helping my current spiral. “You’re terrible at pretending you didn’t like it. Good at spreadsheets, though. Speaking of, I had my first session with Poppy this morning. Should you make a note on my file?”
I turn to look at him, suddenly more interested. "Y-you did? You went to therapy? How did you go?"
Beck raises an eyebrow. "Don't sound so shocked. I'm capable of showing up to things."
"No, I know, I just—" I shake my head, resetting while swallowing a mouthful of margherita to try and gain some sense of control. "Seriously. How did it go? Are you okay?"
"Why, Darcy Madden." He presses a hand to his chest. "Is that genuine concern I detect? For me? The tradeable asset?"
I press my lips together and fight the urge to chuck a lime wedge at his head. "So. Did she make you cry?"
"No." He grins. "But the way your face just went all soft was adorable."