Chapter 43 Lotta Wins This Week
Forty-Three
Lotta Wins This Week
Forest
We don’t move for a long time.
Lounging in a bed with Beck isn’t exactly new. It’s not like I’ve never lazed around reveling in post-sex endorphins with him before, drowsing with one hand on his washboard abs and the other one stroking his hair.
It’s just that this time I feel no guilt. I don’t think about my financial problems or the boiler or other places I need to be. I’m just living my life right now, one heartbeat at a time. The way I should have been before.
After a while, he shifts in my arms. “What if we shared a calendar?” he asks quietly. “I don’t need to know where you are every minute of the day. But at least if you had a shift at work, I’d know better than to ask if you’re free.”
“Sure, no problem,” I say. “But maybe I don’t need to work so many nights. I deserve some fun, too.”
He lifts his head off my chest and stares at me. “Who are you?”
I snort and pull his head back down. “Don’t tease. The past year has been a real trial. But I can’t keep up this pace. Our newest hires seem to be sticking around, and Izzy wants to take some shifts behind the bar. She never said so until last night.”
“I like this for both of us,” he says.
“Charlie is with me this weekend,” I point out. “And I’m still not ready to have a lot of sex when he’s on the other side of the wall. But if you’re up for dinner and…”
“Video games?” Beck smirks against my chest.
“How do you know I wasn’t going to say math homework? Maybe I’m just using you for your giant… brain.”
He laughs. “Use me. I like it. What does Charlie like to eat? Maybe I should bring takeout again. I eat a lot, and I’m not much of a cook. But I know you hate it when I spend money…”
I let out a sigh, because he’s right. I do hate it. “I’ll cook—it’s cheaper. But once in a while you can spoil us with burritos.”
He nudges me with his heel. “How emasculating could it really be, when I give you my ass in return?”
I look up at the Four Seasons’ ceiling and laugh. “You aren’t like anybody else, Beck. You’re really fucking smart, and you keep things in perspective.”
He rolls, tucking a leg between mine. “Shame it took you so long to understand this. But I’m not mad about it. Tell Charlie I’m bringing over a new video game.”
“You can tell him yourself.” I skim a hand down his muscular back. “The Ice Cats play Friday and Saturday. So does Sunday work?”
“Look who has my game schedule memorized.”
“It’s almost the same every week, bud.”
He bites my shoulder. “Let me take the win.”
“Lotta wins this week.”
He kisses my chest. “Don’t I know it.”
Beck decides to blow off the Ice Cats practice this morning, so we can order room service. “And the egg sandwiches will taste extra if we eat them in these,” he says, tossing me a plush bathrobe.
I can’t find it in me to argue. My ten hour stay at this five-star hotel is the closest thing I’ve had to a vacation in years. Besides, I don’t have to pick up Charlie from school for another couple hours.
We’re only two bites into our sandwiches when Beck’s phone rings. He doesn’t even glance at it.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” I prod. “What if it’s your agent?”
“My agent barely remembers my name.”
I get up and grab the phone anyway, because a man doesn’t unlearn all his clenched-up habits overnight.
It says, Coach Powers Calling.