Chapter 30 Like Seeing the Face of God
Thirty
Like Seeing the Face of God
Forest
I wake up to the smell of coffee and the sensation of the bed dipping under someone’s weight.
“Coffee?” Beck says. His knuckles take a leisurely trip through my beard.
I blink against the morning light, taking in his handsome face with the pillow crease still pressed into his left cheek. His hair is sticking up at odd angles, and somehow that makes him even more beautiful.
“You were out of bread, so I ran out to pick up some breakfast.”
“Out...of the house?”
“Yeah, we’re both surprised.” He grins. “It’s wet and gross out there. Quick, warm me up.”
He sheds a pair of sweatpants that I recognize as my own, and I get a glimpse of those long legs before he climbs back under the covers, immediately wrapping himself around me in a full-body embrace. His skin is cool from the morning air, and I automatically pull him closer.
“That’s more like it,” he says, planting his cold feet against my warmer ones.
I’m getting way too used to this. To him. To the way he makes everything feel lighter. “What did you get us?” I ask, hoping it wasn’t expensive.
“My treat,” he says, reading my mind like he always does. “It’s just egg sandwiches from this deli I like.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“I know you hate it when I pay for things, but I have to eat before practice or I’ll die.”
“When do you have to leave?”
“An hour? Today’s a late one. Coach must have had a meeting.” He nuzzles against my shoulder. “So, honestly, it’s a huge conundrum.”
“What is?”
“Eat the eggs while they’re hot, or...” He starts kissing my neck, his lips warm against my skin. “More sex.”
Ohhhh. I close my eyes as he nibbles at the sensitive skin beneath my jaw and I only feel contentment as Beck’s warm body presses against mine and his messy blond hair tickles my shoulder.
But then the kisses stop abruptly. He pulls back slightly, those blue eyes bright with mischief. “On second thought, egg sandwiches aren’t as good when they’re cold.”
“Seriously? You tease.”
“Always leave ’em wanting more. Hey—grab my arm? I think I can just reach the bag without getting out of bed. We’ll eat here where it’s warm.”
Gamely, I hold onto him while he stretches down to snag our breakfast off the floor, enjoying the view as his muscles ripple under his golden skin.
A minute later we’re both sitting up against my headboard, unwrapping warm egg sandwiches, mostly naked beneath the covers. “This is a level of debauchery that I could never get away with when I was married,” I confess.
“In a good way?”
“Yeah, buddy, in a good way.” I run a toe down his muscular calf.
Beck smiles, and my heart cracks open a little further. That smile is more dangerous than crumbs in the bed.
Beside me, he lets out a happy sigh. “When I taste bacon, it’s like seeing the face of God.”
“Truth. And it’s even better when you don’t have to clean the frying pan after.”
“Facts.”
We’re almost done eating when I hear Beck’s phone ping from the nightstand. He grabs it and squints at the screen. Then I see his blue eyes widen. “Oh shit!”
“Problem?”
“I have to go.” He leaps out of bed, and I can’t help but admire his form as he hops around my room, looking for various pieces of his clothing.
“Did you get the time wrong?”
“No. Better. Look.” He tosses the phone onto the bed, eyes bright with excitement.
I pick it up and read the text message on the screen.
Coach Powers
We’re keeping Volkov out of practice today to rest a muscle strain. Can you scrimmage with us at the Boulder facility? Scrimmage starts at 11 but come in when you can to warm up.
“Whoa!” I say. “You’re practicing with the Cougars? How often does this happen?”
“Never. That’s how often. I have a two-way contract, but I’ve never been recalled.” He’s trying to cram a sock on one foot from a standing position, looking a little like a flustered flamingo. “I have to get my gear from home.”
“I know, Beck. But take a breath. You have plenty of time to get there. Finish your sandwich.”
He grabs the remainder and shoves it into his mouth in one enormous bite, and I laugh.
“Now drink your coffee. And we need to get you some water, too.”
“Okay. Yeah. Good point,” he chatters. “Thanks.”
“Hey.” I step into his space and force him to look at me. “What kind of energy do you want to bring to this practice. The frantic kind?”
His clear eyes lock onto mine, and he shakes his head.
“Then do me a favor.” I place a hand on his sternum, where his heart is beating wildly. “Take a slow breath. Fill your lungs from bottom—” I press the heel of my hand into his chest. “—to top. Come on, now. Just take a moment for yourself.”
Watching me, he takes a slow breath and sighs it out.
“Again.”
He closes his eyes and breathes deeply.
“There you go. That’s it. Now remember that feeling.” I pick up his to-go cup off the nightstand. “Let me get you a bottle of water to drink. Stay hydrated, okay?”
He gives me a nervous smile, and a few minutes later, I’m alone in my kitchen, listening to the sound of his Jeep pulling out of my driveway. Then silence. I listen to the heat cycle on, and picture him heading speedily toward home to grab his gear.
And I’m almost as excited as he is.