Chapter 18 #2
Head cocked, I put my hands on my hips. “Really? I’ve been saying that wrong all my life?”
Lips pressed together like he’s trying not to laugh, he nods.
“Huh. Then—” A faint squeak from the living room makes me snap my mouth shut. “Did you hear that?”
“No.” He takes one step toward the living room, listening. And again, there’s a squeak. “Now I do.”
I push off the counter and tiptoe into the living room, finding it empty. “Where did the animals go?”
“Uh,” Beckett says, coming up behind me. “I don’t know. And I don’t like how quiet it is all of a sudden.”
I turn to him, finding his eyes wide with panic.
My heart thumps in response, fear washing over me.
“Shit!” we say in unison.
Beckett lets out another whistle.
Half a second later, Barbara sprints down the stairs.
Followed by Vera.
Then Frank.
Frank, who has a brown squirrel in his mouth.
I gasp. “Frank, drop it!”
The dog miraculously obeys, and the squirrel makes a run for it. I’m not sure where the little guy is running to, but he better find a good hiding spot fast.
Both dogs scramble across the hardwood floor again, and Barbara skitters across the coffee table before leaping onto a chair.
Vera gallops after her, tongue hanging out of her mouth.
Meanwhile Frank the kleptomaniac, with his mischievous track record, is playing a game of hide and seek with his new friend.
A lamp clatters to the floor, a picture frame falls off the wall, and a pile of old magazines scatter everywhere.
The chaos intensifies as the squirrel pops out from under the couch and makes a break for the kitchen, with Barbara, Vera, and Frank hot on its heels.
Apparently Barbara and the dogs have formed an alliance in order to evict the intruder.
The trio barrels toward us as the squirrel skitters by, and just as I’m certain they’ll take me out, an arm wraps around my waist and I’m yanked out of the way. I slam my eyes closed, and when I open them again, I’m submerged in darkness.
“Where are—”
Beckett places a gentle finger over my lips. Then his mouth is at the shell of my ear, whispering low. “We’re in the closet.”
This close to him, I can feel every ridge and valley of his muscled chest and his heat is seeping into me like the gentle rays of the sun on a lazy summer afternoon. His arm remains wrapped around my waist, with no signs of letting me go anytime soon.
“Barbara is resilient,” he continues. “She’ll be fine.
Vera will surely get tired soon. She was already slowing down when I brought her in.
And Frank.” He sighs. “I think he wants to make friends with the squirrel, not kill it. Either way, we need five minutes away from the commotion behind this door.”
His warm breath ghosts over my ear, causing my skin to pebble. Even after a full shift at the hospital, he smells incredible—minty and clean—and it makes it very difficult for me not to bury my face in his chest.
The door rattles, and there’s a thud, making me jolt. On instinct, I press my hands to Beckett’s firm chest to steady myself.
He inhales sharply, but I swear his hold on me tightens. From the tips of our toes to our chests, our bodies are pressed intimately together. The sensation makes my blood run hot and my skin tingle.
Under my hands, his chest rises and falls rapidly, his heart racing beneath his scrub top.
The air in this cramped closet crackles with electricity, and my mind hazes over with desire. With a trembling hand, I cup his cheek, rubbing my thumb along his stubbled jaw.
Now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, I note the way his eyes flutter shut as he leans into my touch. A content groan rumbles from his chest, rich with longing and vulnerability.
The sound tempts me to pull his lips down to mine and kiss him without restraint.
Time stands still, and it’s just the two of us alone with racing pulses and heaving chests.
He dips his head, forehead resting against mine, and with his other arm around my waist, he pulls me closer—if that’s even possible. Our lips linger mere inches apart, so close our breaths mingle.
His arousal is obvious, pressing low and firm on my stomach. The sensation makes the ache between my thighs intensify, and my knees almost give out on me.
He shifts closer, his lips nearly whispering against—
Two pitiful whimpers sound on the other side of the door, shattering the moment, followed by an impatient meow and a curious squeak.
Beckett reels back and clears his throat.
Hands shaking, I find the knob and push the door open. A rush of cool air hits my overheated skin, dousing the desire in my veins.
Just outside the door, we find the furry creatures behaving in an oddly respectful manner.
Including the squirrel.
Thrown off by the moment we just shared, I focus on the dogs, willing my heart rate to slow. “Do you. . .uh. . .want to see if you can get the squirrel back outside while I hold these two back?”
“Yep.”
One word. A single syllable. It cuts through my chest like a sharp knife.
I feel like I messed up somehow. Like I crossed some line that I didn’t even know existed.
Charlie and Finn pick up their dogs just after midnight. Beckett and I smile and swear they behaved perfectly, which causes Finn to narrow his eyes and call us out for lying.
We fold quickly, telling them the whole sordid tale.
When they’re gone, I plop onto the couch, resting my head in my hands.
Since our moment in the closet, Beckett has been quiet. More so than usual, shuffling around the house with slumped shoulders and his brows pinched like he’s deep in thought.
Maybe he is.
Me? I’ve been doing what I do best: assuming the worst. He’s probably ready to look for another place to live after all of the chaos we just survived.
And it’s my fault. We were caught in a turbulent whirlwind of dogs, cats, and squirrels, and by the time we got them settled, the cottage was in complete disarray.
I can only imagine that stressed him out further, knowing he likes a tidy house.
Finally, to top it all off, that charged, intimate moment we shared.
A moment that has now morphed into an unspoken tension that lingers between us.
Beckett pads across the floor and eases into the chair in the corner.
Head still in my hands, elbows resting on my knees, I’m weighed down by guilt. In a shocking turn of events, Barbara decides to curl up next to me. Even she senses that I pissed her dad off.
Heart in my throat, I drop my hands and stare at the ground. “I’m so sorry, Beck—”
“Would you stop that?” he says, his tone firm.
I snap up, breath held in surprise.
Hunched forward in the chair with his elbows resting on his knees, he levels me with an intense look. One that’s nearly impossible to decipher.
Oh fuck. He’s probably irritated, and I don’t blame him.
“S-sorry. I know—”
He stands abruptly, cutting me off, and strides across the room. He settles next to me, and rather than pull away when his knee brushes mine, he leaves it there.
Nerves skitter through me, making me fidgety. I pick at my cuticles, tempted to bolt into my room and forget this night happened.
Beckett covers my hands with one of his, stilling my restless fingers.
“Stop apologizing when you have nothing to be sorry for,” he says quietly.
Shoulders sagging, I force myself to look at him. His empathetic green eyes are locked on mine, tempting me to lose myself in them.
I swallow the lump of emotion in my throat. All my life, I’ve been an apologizer. My dad used to swear I had to be part Canadian because I would apologize for even the most minor inconvenience.
Beckett tucks my hair behind my ear, his lips kicking up at the corners. “Tonight was wild.” He licks his lips, assessing me, the scrutiny making my skin itch. “But it was really fucking fun. I can’t remember a time when I experienced every single human emotion in the span of a few hours.”
Shaking my head, I chuckle. “Sure, it was fun while it lasted. But you’re a cat person. I don’t know how you managed to keep it together during all the destructive mayhem the dogs bring with them.” I shudder, recalling the memory of the squirrel finding a home in Frank’s mouth.
He laughs. The sound goes straight to my heart, lightening my mood instantly. “Yes, I’m a cat person. But on my days off, I volunteer at the shelter and take dogs out. I love them. I’ve always wanted one. Or more, really. But my job makes it difficult.”
My heart aches at the longing in his voice, though the sensation is quickly squashed when a memory hits me. “That day we got tangled in the leashes, you were volunteering?” I snap up straight. “I thought you were doing someone a favor.”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Every city I go to, I volunteer as often as I can. It’s one of my favorite things to do, actually.”
Sighing, I bow my head. “Of course you do volunteer work. You, sir, are a walking, talking green flag.” I mumble the last few words.
“What was that? I didn’t catch the last part,” he teases. “Something about a green flag?”
What should’ve stayed firmly inside my mind has escaped.
I vehemently shake my head, fighting a smile. “Nothing. Ignore me.”
In response, he scoots closer, crowding my space, and drapes an arm over the back of the couch. “I don’t want to ignore you. Ever.”
My stomach flips, like I’m at the top of a roller coaster.
Goddammit. This man.
This can’t happen. Our friendship, roommate-ship, whatever this is, has an expiration date.
Yet his compassionate smile, kind eyes, and soft touch slowly tug at my seams, unraveling my control.
A chaotic storm of emotions swirls in my mind, each one fighting for my undivided attention, while I, on the other hand, shove them down, hoping they go away.
Unfortunately, it’s getting more and more difficult to tame these turbulent feelings.