5. Kash #2
We turn just as Beck makes his way toward us through the crowd. He’s wearing his usual baseball hat, with a tight army green tee, jeans, and his boots. Eyes follow him as he passes by, but he doesn’t even notice. Hasn’t in four years.
They say being mate-locked is a thing of legend, but if I had to guess, I’m pretty sure that perfectly explains Beck’s affliction.
He found his mate in that hotel room years ago and hasn’t been the same since.
The fact that he literally knows nothing about her other than her first name…
Well, it’s like he tortures himself every day with the what ifs.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little guilty for my part in him leaving his potential mate behind.
He stops when he reaches us, glancing down at Charlotte and our joined hands with an amused expression.
“And who’s this?” he asks.
“I don’t give my name to strangers,” she proclaims.
Wyatt claps a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Lady Charlotte, this here is my brother, Beck.”
“You have a brother, Mr. Wyatt?”
He nods. “Yup. I sure do. He’s older by two whole years.”
Her sigh melts my heart. “I asked Mama for a brother or sister ‘cuz I’m not picky, but she told me there was a snowball’s chance in hell of that happening.”
I nearly choke on my spit. Wyatt cracks up laughing. Beck smiles until it slowly fades, replaced by a look I’m not sure how to interpret.
“She kinda looks like…”
“Like who?” Wyatt asks.
“Never mind. It’s just been a long day.” Beck shakes his head, but I notice there’s a speculative look in his eyes. “So who’s your mama, Charlotte? Is she around here somewhere?”
Our gazes dart to Beck.
“What?” he asks, like he didn’t just blow our minds.
The number of times he’s ever willingly shown interest in a woman since that night in Charlotte equals exactly zero.
Wait a second…
Looking back down at the little girl with eyes the exact same color as my packmate, I wonder if…
No. No way. I’m being ridiculous.
I shake my head.
“We were just getting ready to help Lady Charlotte look for her mama. Wanna join us?”
“Sure. But who is her mama?”
Charlotte puffs out her chest. “JJ Wilde.”
“ The JJ Wilde?” Beck eyes his brother. “This is the little girl you were telling us about?”
“It is. Now come on. We’re running interference again apparently.”
The tug on my hand is back, and she’s dragging me through the dense gathering of people.
“You see her anywhere?” I ask, scanning the crowd even though I have only the vaguest idea what her mama looks like.
Blonde hair—according to Wyatt. Tanned skin. Rhinestones and chaps. Doesn’t leave me much to go on.
“Nope. And my feet hurt, Mr. Kash. Can you carry me?”
Her pitiful eyes are so sad, and her pink lips are puffed out in the biggest pout I’ve ever seen. How could I possibly say no?
“Sure thing, jelly bean.”
The nickname slips from my lips without conscious thought, and my brothers look at me strangely.
“How’d you know?” she asks as I lift her into my arms, plastering her against me like I’ve done this a million times before.
“Know what?”
“Jelly beans are my second favorite.”
“What’s your first?”
Wyatt raises his hand. “Can I guess?”
She nods.
“Twizzlers?”
“Yes!” she exclaims, clapping excitedly.
“No way!” Beck joins in. “Those are my favorite too.”
“Really, Mr. Beck?”
“Yup. Always carry a pack in my pocket.” He reaches behind him, pulling out a small pack of the red candy. “Would you like one?”
“Mama said I’m not supposed to take candy from strangers, but we’re not strangers, right? Because you’re Mr. Wyatt’s brother. So it should be okay.”
He pulls out a long rope of candy and hands it over to the little girl in my arms.
“Thank you, Mr. Beck,” she says just before she begins munching happily.
“You’re welcome, Charlotte.”
We walk for a few more minutes with no luck until we come to the edge of the square. A group is tucked back into one of the small alleys lined with shops and cafés that shoot off from the center of town. My footsteps come to a grinding halt as I catch sight of the one woman I was hoping to avoid.
The breath is sucked from my lungs. Juliette’s wavy blonde hair is blowing freely in the evening breeze, and when she turns, I see the deep V of her cream lace blouse that teases her skin and ample cleavage.
There’s a slit in the long, flowing jean skirt that shows miles of tanned, toned legs and knee-high suede boots. In her hands is a velvet box.
There’s a short flash of irritation, then sadness, that crosses her face. But when she smiles… I swear I have an out-of-body experience. I haven’t seen that sort of real, true happiness since she was eight. Maybe nine. Long before we were enemies, when we still called each other friend .
When she turns, she hands the box back to the man beside her who shakes his head as he runs his hand down her lace-covered arm. Without warning, fierce possessiveness flares in my gut.
“Mr. Kash, why are you growling? Did my mama do something to make you angry?”
Suddenly, my whole world goes still.
“Your mama?” I manage to ask around a throat that’s suddenly as dry as the Sahara.
“Yeah, right over there with the pack that doesn’t want me.”
Pack Latham .
“Mama!” Charlotte shouts, drawing her mother’s attention from the Alphas in front of her.
Juliette’s eyes collide with mine across the bustling cobblestone path. For a second, we just stand there and stare at each other like we’re not enemies forced to exist in the same space.
“Do you know her? Because if I was a bettin’ man, I’d sure as shit say that’s recognition plastered all over that gorgeous face of hers?” Wyatt whispers, drawing me out of whatever the fuck is happening right now.
Juliette’s eyes dart to Charlotte, then over to Wyatt, widening as she takes in the scene. But it isn’t until her gaze catches on Beck that her lips part and all the color drains from her face.
“You,” Beck chokes out beside me.
“You know her too?” Wyatt asks, confusion and frustration clear in his tone.
“Yeah,” his brother replies, swallowing harshly. “She’s the girl from four years ago.”
“That’s my mama, JJ Wilde, but most people ‘round here call her Juliette,” Charlotte says innocently.
When I look down at the little girl in my arms, her confused eyes meet mine, and with startling clarity, I realize Charlotte, with the blue eyes that match the ones I’ve looked at every day for years, is the daughter of the woman my packmate spent the night with. Four years ago. In Charlotte .
She’s also my ex-best-friend.
“Beck,” I murmur.
“Wait a fucking minute!” Wyatt exclaims. “That means…”
Our packmate inhales a ragged breath then exhales sharply. “Charlotte might be my daughter.”