Chapter Three
Beckett
While my Gran’s favorite saying was “what’s for you won’t pass you,” she had many more in her repertoire.
When it came to the conversation of love, Gran’s opinion was “there’s a lid for every pot.” Which pretty much translates to there’s someone out there for everyone. AKA—no matter how quirky or odd or different you are, there will always be someone to match you.
“You’ll catch your death going out like that” was offered up anytime anyone went outside without a coat on. Didn’t matter how many times I told her colds come from germs, not the weather, she was adamant that she was right.
But for some reason, my grandmother’s inaccurate saying is the first thing that pops into my mind as I stand in the elevator watching the beautiful, raven-haired, towel-clad woman’s arms break out into a million goosebumps.
Goosebumps that I’m pretty sure have nothing to do with the current temperature and everything to do with the man and woman we’ve just come face to face with.
I have an immediate instinct to take off my coat and wrap it around the woman protectively, sheltering her from… whatever this is.
Because right now, she looks even more like she wants to die of mortification than she did when she practically nose-dived into my arms a few minutes ago. The expression on her face makes my heart twist in a way I can’t explain.
But it’s July, and I don’t have a coat or even a sweatshirt, so I just stand here. Uselessly.
Meanwhile, the woman blinks at the couple a few times before she exclaims, “Andrew! Lisa! Fancy seeing you both here.”
The man—Andrew, I assume—balks at the sight of us, while the woman named Lisa goes as white as a ghost.
“Keeley!” she squeaks, nervously tugging on a strand of her blond hair.
Keeley. Pretty name.
The thought is fleeting, though, because Keeley’s spine suddenly straightens, like she’s being pulled with a string. She stands to attention at the mention of her own name as she levels her deep blue eyes on the couple.
“What’s going on here?” she asks, but her voice sounds completely different to how it did a few minutes ago. It’s quieter and has taken on a throaty, almost achy, quality.
And while I don’t know Keeley—or Andrew or Lisa—I know enough about humankind to know this situation is not good.
Andrew appears to recover quickly and furrows his brow deeply as he assesses Keeley. His eyes dart to me, though I know his next words are not meant for me. “I could ask you the same.” Keeley looks beyond flustered at this point, but Andrew is apparently unaware as he presses. “Did you just go for a swim or something?”
His question makes her startle, and she glances down at herself, like she’s just remembered her current state of undress.
“Uh… yes!” Keeley says haltingly. “A swim. That’s a really, um, reasonable explanation for this.”
Andrew squints at her. “Isn’t Mrs. Benson’s seniors’ aquarobics class on Saturday mornings?”
Keeley’s jaw ticks. “I… joined in.”
“You joined in ?” Andrew parrots, his dark eyes mocking.
“Um, yes.”
“So, you’re telling me you woke up this morning, took part in an aquarobics class for the elderly, and then proceeded to ride the elevator to my floor afterwards?”
“Not entirely,” she backpedals. “I was trying to let Craig in, and then I got stuck in the elevator with…” She gestures towards me vaguely.
“Beckett,” I supply.
“Beckett.” She nods gratefully. “And the doors just opened here, on your floor, by themselves.”
“Sure they did.” Andrew’s tone drips with condescension, and he looks at me for a moment before his gaze swings to Keeley and then back to me.
“I’m not in the habit of lying.” Keeley stares at Andrew coldly, her arms crossed across her chest. “Unlike some people.”
“Drew, can we just go?” Lisa asks quietly, shifting on her feet and looking down at the hardwood floor. “Serendipi-Tea is going to be packed if we wait much longer.”
“You’re going to Serendipi-Tea together?” Keeley’s head jerks back like she’s been physically struck.
Andrew shrugs, a sudden guilty look passing over his features. “They have the best breakfast sandwich in town.”
Keeley seems frozen in place, her eyes round and her mouth downturned.
Despite my grandmother being a prime gossipmonger her entire life, I personally prefer to stay out of other people’s business. But something about the woman next to me is making me rethink my norms.
Before I can think twice, I smile at the couple broadly as my fingers hover over the “doors close” button.
“I hope you don’t mind taking the stairs, Andrew, because Keeley and I were actually in the middle of something here. Enjoy your breakfast sandwiches.”
Before he can respond, I press the button, and the elevator doors shut in the guy’s face.
For a split second, I’m happy to no longer be seeing that chump, but then, I catch the thunderous look on Keeley’s face as the elevator chugs upwards to the fourth floor.
“What did you do that for?” she demands.
“What’s a breakfast sandwich?” I ask, ducking her question.
“Exactly how far away is Ireland?” She sighs impatiently, screwing up her nose. “It’s a bagel or an English muffin with eggs and bacon or sausage, and maybe cheese, and… wait, no. Don’t distract me. Why did you do that?”
“Ah. We call that a breakfast roll back home.” I nod and then shrug. “And I did that because you looked like you could use a hand with that guy. He your ex or something?”
Her cheeks redden as she glares at me. “I was totally fine handling that myself.”
“You were?” I stare at her. “Because if I recall correctly, you announced that you took a geriatric aerobics class this morning.”
“AQUArobics.”
I arch a brow. “I’m not exactly sure how that’s any better.”
“It’s not!” Keeley exclaims. The doors pop open on the fourth floor, and she peeks out to check that the coast is clear before stepping into the hallway. “But seriously, Beckett ”—she says my name like it tastes bad—“I don’t need your help, or anybody else’s. I’m fine.” She pauses, her eyes screwing up as she adds, “ I’m fine ” a second time, almost under her breath. Almost like she’s trying to reassure herself of this statement.
And with that, she turns on her heel and marches towards the stairs.
I watch her go until she disappears around the corner and the elevator doors threaten to close again. Perhaps beyond my better judgment, I’m utterly intrigued by this beautiful, feisty woman.
And still none the wiser as to why she was dressed in a towel.