30. Elouise
Elouise
One moment, I’m talking and laughing with Mr. Olson. The next, I’m staring, open-mouthed, as Mr. Olson seemingly attempts to drown himself with his water bottle.
And then Beckett is there.
It takes a moment for my brain to catch up to my eyes.
Beckett.
Here.
In my classroom.
Looking at me like… like he owns me.
I plant my hands on my desk, like I’m going to stand up, but my legs don’t cooperate. I’m too stunned.
Beckett keeps his eyes on me as he addresses Mr. Olson, “I heard one of the parents up front asking for you.”
Instead of replying, Mr. Olson just continues to cough. His face is red, and it looks like he’s trying to glare at Beckett, but it’s hard to tell. No doubt the unexpectedly inhaled water making it hard to speak.
Not sure what to say, I lift a hand in a small wave as Mr. Olson backs out of my room.
The moment he clears the doorway, Beckett uses his foot to swing the door closed. And just like that, we’re alone.
But that doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter that it’s just the two of us .
It doesn’t matter that the last time we were alone he made me come all over his fingers.
It doesn’t matter that just the sight of him reminds me of the taste of him.
It doesn’t matter because he’s a lying, cheating, douchebag.
He’s not mine.
With that reminder, I force down the fluttering in my belly.
“What are you doing here, Beckett?” I keep my voice level, trying to hide the hurt that I still feel.
He steps further into the room, looking around, taking it in.
I don’t like it.
I feel like he’s already seen so much more of me than I’ve seen of him, and this is just one more layer he gets to peel away. Another reminder that I don’t know anything about Beckett The Man.
Even though I don’t want to, I can’t stop myself from taking him in.
Worn black work boots. Faded and perfectly fitted dark jeans. And a grey cotton shirt, covered with a heavy black leather jacket.
He should look like an everyday guy, but he looks like he just walked off a calendar photoshoot. Asshole.
Stopping just a foot in front of my desk, his gaze finally rests back on me.
“Hi, Lou.”
His tone is warm, and kind, and it makes me want to slap him in the balls.
“Why are you here?” I snap it this time.
The corner of his mouth twitches and my anger flares.
I push up and stride around the desk to face him. He’s still so much taller than me, but at least this way he’s not lording over me.
“I saw you,” I shove my finger into his chest. “And I know you saw me, seeing you.”
Beckett doesn’t back away. He leans in, increasing the pressure on my fingertip. “And what did you see?”
This prick.
“I saw you! With her!” my voice cracks and I snap my mouth shut.
I start to drop my hand away, but Beckett traps it with his own, flattening my palm to his chest .
He lowers the volume of his voice, “And that makes you mad?”
His calm demeanor is making this whole thing worse. He’s acting like it’s no big deal, like none of this matters. And me… I can’t pretend it doesn’t matter. I’ve tried. But I can’t.
Heat builds behind my eyes and I blink.
Not wanting, or needing, to explain myself, I ask him again, “What are you doing here?”
I hate that the fight has left my tone, leaving nothing but disappointment and sadness in its wake.
“I’m here for the Science Fair,” his large hand tightens around mine. “My nephew is a third grader here, and he’s very excited to show me his mealworms.”
Nephew?
Beckett nods at my unspoken question, “The woman you saw me with, that’s my cousin, Natasha. And that was her son, Clint. I call him my nephew, because I don’t actually know what you’re supposed to call your cousin’s kid.”
“She’s your cousin?” I repeat, needing to hear it again.
He nods, his free hand reaching out, palming the back of my neck. “Cousin. Family.”
She was his cousin.
Could it really be that easy?
“You’re single?” I ask.
Beckett nods, “I’m single.”
Am I this lucky? Was last night honestly one of those it isn’t what it looks like moments?
“No girlfriend?”
The edge of his mouth pulls into a smirk, “Nope.”
I want to believe him. I want to believe him so badly.
“Wife?”
He shakes his head, “No wife.”
“Dating anyone?” I whisper.
It feels like he’s telling me the truth, but I can’t leave any questions unasked. I won’t be able to deal with this sort of heartache again.
“I’m not dating anyone.” He leans in closer, his fingers flexing around my neck. “How about you, Smoky Girl? Any more guys I need to chase off?”
“There’s no one.” Once the words are out, I feel even more foolish.
I’m not trying to sound so desperate, we only had one actual night together.
I shouldn’t be this broken up over thinking he’d cheated on someone with me.
Yeah, that’d be bad. Terrible even. But it should’ve just made me angry, not heart broken.
Then his words register, “Wait, what do you mean chase off more guys ?”
“Babe, what happened last night was a misunderstanding. But you,” he pulls me closer, “I’ve already had to deal with two assholes. How many more are out there trying to take what’s mine?”
I’m not usually left speechless, but this whole conversation puts me on my back foot.
“Two?” Once I think about, I assume he’s referring to the night Adam tried to crawl into my tent, but… I glance at the now closed door. “You can’t mean-?”
I swear his jaw flexes. “Mr. Standing In Your Classroom Trying To Flirt With You. Yeah, I’m talking about him.”
His tone is so serious, it almost makes me laugh. Almost.
“Mr. Olson was not flirting with me.” I tell him, not sure I believe it.
“Gotta convince yourself of that before you’re able to convince me,” He tips his head down, mere inches left separating us. “Now, are you gonna let me kiss you, or do you want to question me some more?”
I use my free hand to press a finger against his chin, keeping his face where it is, “One more question.”
He lifts his brows, encouraging me to continue.
“You knew that I saw you last night, so you had to know what I assumed.” Even knowing the truth, an unpleasant feeling roils through my stomach. “Why didn’t you stop me? Correct me?”
His smirk is not what I was expecting, “Promise not to hit me?”
I scowl, “No.”
He lets out a breath of laughter, before his face turns serious, “I liked seeing your jealousy.”
My brows furrow together .
For an instant he lets go of my hand, snagging my other one, and before I can react, he has both my hands pressed to his body.
We’re still standing, him palming my neck while keeping my hands trapped between our chests, and it feels more intimate than anything else we’ve done before.
“Thoughts of you have plagued my mind since the moment I stepped out of that damned tent.” He bends towards me, “I wasn’t just going to walk away.
That wasn’t going to fucking happen. Sooner or later, I was going to end up right here, chasing you right to your classroom.
The one place I knew where to find you. Only I wasn’t sure you wanted to be found.
” His breath fans over my lips. “But then I saw you last night, and I knew exactly what you would’ve assumed.
And you looked hurt and angry and beautifully jealous.
And even though I hate that I put those emotions on your face, I relished in their meaning.
” He angles his head, putting his lips next to my ear. “It meant you wanted me too.”
Shivers trace down my spine as his words roll over my skin.
I really should hit him. I wish I wanted to hit him.
“You’re a dick,” I whisper, with no real anger.
“I certainly am. But I’m not a liar. And I’m not a cheat.”
The last of my tension seeps from my bones. I believe him. And as mad it makes me, I understand him.
“Okay,” I tell him quietly.
“Okay?” he questions.
My head tips in the smallest nod, “Okay, you can kiss me now.”
Like magnets that have finally been released, we gravitate into each other.
His lips press against mine, warm and firm. A caress.
It’s slow. Slower than it was before between us. Like we’re taking our time to taste each other. And he tastes… decadent.
I lean in, needing the warmth of his body against mine. Suddenly freezing without him.
Beckett tilts his head further. The brush of his stubble against the sensitive skin at the side of my mouth is the perfect contrast as his smooth tongue searches for entry.
I let him in .
Buzz.
The hand on the back of my neck, slides up into my loose hair and I moan.
Buzz.
My hands are still trapped between us, Beckett’s grip never loosening.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Breaking the kiss, Beckett leans his forehead against mine, “Fucking hell.”
Releasing my hands, but not my neck he reaches into his pocket to pull out his vibrating phone.
“The fair has started,” Beckett’s exhale is full of sexual frustration. “Clint’s making sure I haven’t forgotten.”
“Oh,” and then I remember where we are, “Oh!”
A door slams somewhere down the hallway, solidifying the fact we’re standing in my classroom, making out, on our way to doing so much more.
I clear my throat, “We should go.”
“Yeah,” Beckett closes his eyes, “give me a moment.”
Now that my hands are free, I glance down at the front of his pants. Or more specifically the prominent bulge at the front of his pants.
I bite my lip, “Take your time, Champ.”
He cracks an eye open, “Champ?”
“Trying on a nickname.” I laugh, “No good?”
“No good.”
Taking a moment, I run my hands over my hair and straighten my clothes.
I wasn’t expecting to see Beckett here today, but I feel decently cute in my dark wash skinny jeans and pale blue thick-knit sweater.
Teaching a roomful of rowdy fourth graders means that function takes precedence over style.
But I managed to make it through the day without spilling coffee, food or paint on myself, so that’s a win.
Seeing that Beckett looks ready to go, I snag my bag off the desk and start for the door .
“Not so fast.”
I halt, “What?”
“I need your number.”
When I don’t immediately reply, Beckett shows me the screen of his phone with a new contact open. “Number, Babe.”
My pulse ticks up.
I want to give him my number. I want him to call me. But…
“Is this a good idea?” my fingers twine together in an effort to keep them from tugging at my sweater.
Beckett narrows his eyes, “Yeah, Smoky. This,” he uses a finger to point from my chest to his, “is a good idea.”
The pulse between my legs is saying yes , this is a good idea. But my brain is still in play, and I’m trying to listen to her.
“What do you mean by this ?” it’s my turn to gesture.
“I’m not asking for a commitment, or anything like that.
I just…” I huff out a breath, “I don’t even know where you’re living.
Are you just back for a visit? Are you leaving again soon?
” My hands slap down against my sides. “It’s fine if that’s what this is, but I want to make sure we have the same expectations. ”
Beckett takes a step closer, “If I said I was just back for the week, you’d be okay with spending a few nights together?”
My tongue swipes against my lower lip. “I wouldn’t say no,” I admit.
And it’s true.
I’m not opposed to a booty call, friends with benefits, fuck buddy – whatever you’d call it. But I know how I work, and if that’s what this is, I need to know ahead of time, or else my heart will get too invested.
Said heart gives a discreet cough and eye roll. Reminding me I’m more than a little invested already.
Beckett holds my gaze, “And if I told you I was back for good?”
A flutter ripples behind my ribcage, “Are you?”
He nods. “I don’t know exactly where I’m gonna live, here or closer to downtown, but I’m in Minnesota to stay.”
The look in his eyes is so serious.
“Really?” The hope of my younger self leaks into my words.
“Really. I’m staying in Darling Lake, at my cousin’s place for now. I get to spend time with Clint and use him as an excuse to not share a roof with my parents.” He blinks like the thought alone creeps him out. “Do you live in town?”
I smile, “I bought my parent’s house.”
Surprise covers Beckett’s face, and the feeling of catching him off guard pulls my mouth all the way into a grin.
He grins back, “So, you gonna give me your number now?”
I take the phone from his hand and tap in my number, noticing he’s labeled the contact as Smoky Hall.
Beckett takes his phone back, typing out a text to my number before hitting send.
“There,” he tucks the phone into his pocket then holds his elbow out to his side, “shall we?”
Looping my arm through his, I shake my head, “A first date at the 3 rd through 5 th grade Science Fair. How are you ever going to top this?”
He pulls the door open, holding it for us to walk through. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”