Chapter 4 – Beck
BECK
Though it probably isn’t the ideal location for a first date.
But I don’t know how interested I am in this date going well.
Sasha is smart—she works with Jack at his accounting firm—and she’s gorgeous.
She’s tall with long legs and it’s obvious she knows they’re her best feature because she’s dressed in a short skirt and knee-high boots.
When she bends across the pool table to line up her shot, I get a clearer view of just how short her skirt is. My gaze travels up the length of her legs, zoning in on her backside. My skin heats and I can’t resist stepping up behind her.
“Need some help with that?” I growl in her ear, resting my palms on either side of the table.
She glances over her shoulder and her eyes crinkle as a pretty smile stretches on her face. It reveals her age, but I don’t mind an older woman. It’s sexy. It’s different. And different is better than familiar. She just might be the woman to break me from my dry spell.
“I’m confident in my skills with a stick,” she replies suggestively, dragging a lazy finger down my chest, stopping at the waistband of my jeans. “I don’t think I’m like the young women you’re used to dating.”
I’m instantly aroused. I wrap my fingers around her hip and grip her firmly. “You’re right. You’re not. And that’s what I like about you.”
She rolls her eyes and gives me a playful push in the center of my chest. “You don’t know anything about me.”
I exhale a breath, smirking, and take a step back.
Crossing my arms, I go right back to admiring her round ass while she takes her shot.
She’s right to be confident. She hits the cue ball at just the right spot.
It strikes her striped ball, spinning and gliding across the table before landing in a corner pocket.
Sasha straightens and flicks her wrist. “What can I say? I’ve been playing pool since you were probably in grade school.”
I know what she’s doing. She’s trying to push me away. But it’s having the opposite effect. Age is just a number. And I don’t mind her number.
“Then maybe you should be the one teaching me.” I lean in close to her, dropping my eyes to hers. “I’ll be a good student.”
She throws back her head and laughs. “You have a comeback for everything, don’t you?”
“I’ve been known to say the right thing at the right time on occasion, I suppose.”
She settles on, “I think you’re a flirt,” then sashays toward her drink on the table near us.
From the corner of my eye, a blast from my past is suddenly standing in my personal space. Instant dread fills my limbs, weighing me down.
“Tell me, Beck, when have you ever said the right thing at the right time?” Rosie challenges, determination flashing in her eyes.
“Rosie,” I groan, glaring at her with intention. “What are you doing here?”
“What? Last I checked, you don’t own Golden Harbor. Or the Sandbar. Unless…”
In this moment, dang, I wish I did own The Sandbar. That would’ve been the ultimate comeback. But sadly, no.
“I didn’t mean here, I meant here—” I wave my hand between Sasha and me. “Interrupting my date.”
She glances at me and then Sasha. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this was a date. But why am I not surprised you wouldn’t up your game in the last ten years? The Sandbar is after all, your favorite place to take a woman.”
“Am I missing something?” Sasha asks, doe-eyed.
“No,” I mutter. “She was just leaving, weren’t you?” I narrow my eyes at Rosie again, hoping she’ll take the hint.
But Rosie glares right back. She never was one for backing down. It’s the reason she and I argued so much. The way she used to piss me off…
But the making up? That made it worth it.
My skin heats at the memory and my imagination runs wild.
I’ve got her bent over this pool table and I’m tight against her, thrusting deliciously slow, exactly how she likes it.
My mouth waters and I allow my eyes to rake over her, pausing at the way her pale yellow top hugs her chest. She always did look amazing in yellow.
Staring directly in my eyes, Rosie says, “Leaving? Of course not, honey.” She bats her eyelashes at me, her jaw set, and before I know it—we’re in a showdown. “Why don’t you introduce me to your date?”
“Rosie,” I say through gritted teeth, feeling my nostrils flare.
She steps closer. “Last night I was honey.”
“Last night?” Sasha’s brows lift. “I think I should go.”
I take a hold of her arm. “No, no. No. Please, stay.” Exhaling a long breath, I mutter, “Sasha, Rosie, Rosie, Sasha.”
Sasha puts out her hand reluctantly. Something tells me there won’t be a second date. “Nice to meet you.”
Rosie shakes it. “It’s so nice to meet you, Sasha. I’m Rosie, Beck’s wife.”
I throw my head back. “Dammit Rosie.”
“You’re married?” Sasha shrieks, tugging her arm free from my grip. “I knew there had to be something. But married?” She picks up her purse from the chair.
“No. Sasha, wait.”
“You’re either married or you’re not. Which is it?”
“It’s…complicated.”
“Beck, it’s been fun. Really.” With a palm to my cheek, she gives it a pat. “But I don’t have time for complicated.” She storms off.
I watch her go before whipping around to face Rosie, who has too big of a smile on her face. “You happy?”
She narrows her eyes, taking a few small steps closer until the toes of our boots touch and she has to peer up at me. “No. Sign the divorce papers. Then I’ll be happy.”
“You’re unbelievable.” I grit my teeth and tear off my hat, running my fidgeting hand through my hair. “What happened, you moved to Seattle and forgot your manners? Forgot how to be a civilized person? Jeez, Rosie.”
Stella and Jack approach, and I should’ve known Stella would bring Rosie to The Sandbar. It’s not like there’s many options in Golden Harbor.
“Hey, Beck. I thought you were busy tonight. How’ve you been?” Jack gives me a fist bump.
“Been better,” I mutter, shoving my hat back on my head. “Thanks to this one.” I hike a thumb in Rosie’s direction.
With her hands on her hips, she says, “Nuh-uh, don’t blame me for your date going south. You brought it on yourself.”
Stella cringes as she mindlessly offers Rosie a beer. “You were on a date?”
“Yeah. I was.” I glare at Rosie again.
“Tell him to sign the divorce papers and he will be free to go on however many dates he wants.” She presses the bottle to her lips and takes a drink.
“Free?” I snap. “Apparently that didn’t stop you,” I grit out.
“I didn’t mean free, of course…Not like that. I just meant, ya know, I won’t get in the way and mess up any more of your dates.” She stumbles over her words.
For a second I think she might actually feel guilty that she’s moved on. That she’s shacking up with some rich asshole. But why should she? Just because a piece of paper says we’re still married doesn’t mean anything. Clearly it doesn’t mean anything to her.
“Wait…” Jack speaks slowly, his eyes flicking between me and Rosie, his head tilted slightly. “You two are still married?”
I glance down at my boots.
“It’s not like I haven’t tried. Beck won’t sign the papers.” Rosie tosses a hand in my direction.
I can’t help but look at her, as though I’m waiting for her to continue spilling our business to everyone at this entire bar.
“You knew?” Jack asks Stella.
“No,” she blurts. “Not until today. And don’t give me that look. It wasn’t my place to say anything. This is their drama.”
“We don’t have drama. It’s just this one thing. And then after the memorial, I’ll be gone.”
Leaning in closer, I narrow my eyes at her. “Is that a promise?”
“But I thought you were going to stay in Golden Harbor for a while. Dottie had Beck remodel the cottage,” Stella interjects.
I swing my gaze to Stella. “Are you kidding me? Is that why Dottie hired me? To get the cottage ready for Rosie? She told me it was to get it ready to go on the market.”
“I’m sure that’s why. Dottie never said anything to me about coming to Golden Harbor to stay,” Rosie assures us. “I have a life back in Seattle.”
I groan. “Yeah, so you keep reminding us. Ya know what, Rosie? Why don’t you do everyone a favor and get back to it already. Get back to your perfect life in Seattle. And leave us the hell alone.” I take a swig of my beer. “None of us need your pity or reminders that you moved on without us.”
“What? No.” She bites on her lower lip and her fingers fidget with the label on her beer bottle. When she opens her mouth to speak again, she looks at Stella. “I never said that. I never said my life was perfect, or whatever it is he’s insinuating.”
“Yeah? And how often did you come back to see Dottie? How often have you come back to see Stella? Your so-called best friend.”
Rosie sniffs and her eyes water even while she’s trying to glare at me. “That’s not fair.”
“Hey, okay you two. That’s enough. We’re done taking this guilt trip down memory lane.” Stella gives Rosie a pool stick. “Let’s all play some pool and get another beer.”
“You expect me to stay and hang out with her?” I stab a finger at Rosie.
“I do. Because we all used to be friends. We should be able to hang out together.”
“Just like old times.” Jack hooks his arm around my neck.
I can appreciate the sentiment, but it doesn’t help. I shrug out of his hold. “Fine,” I grunt.
Screwing her lips up to one side, Rosie’s glare is hard and purposeful. “Fine,” she says, looking right at me.
“Great,” Stella says with forced enthusiasm. “Maybe you wanna get us some more drinks?”
I swing a cold gaze to Rosie. “Sure. Why not? Does my wife want another beer?”
She rolls her eyes, flipping her dark auburn hair off her shoulder. “Don’t call me that.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re right, Stella. This night is gonna be fun,” I mutter, then stalk off to the bar.