5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Beck
I reach the doorway to Dallas’s new office as she plunks her bag on her desk.
“Oh, hey Billy.” Her head tilt is accusatory. She clicks her tongue.
I can’t stop my lips from twitching in a smile. “Sorry about that. It’s a common mistake.”
She does a little head shake, making her shoulder-length auburn hair swing. “It wasn’t my mistake. I find it strange that you kept letting me call you Billy when your name is Beck.”
“Beck Billingsley.” I take a seat in Walter’s old, overstuffed chair. “When I was a kid, everyone called me Billy. And then when I came back after graduating college, I tried to go by Beck. That’s what four years of people at college calling you by your correct name will do to you. But a lot of people, like my brother, still call me Billy.”
“If you’d corrected me at the beginning, I might have figured out who you were, I guess, and I would have—” She sits in the office chair and rests her elbows on the desk.
“You would have what?” I’m honestly curious why she seems embarrassed. “You didn’t…do anything wrong.”
“We hugged.” Her tone and facial expression are grave.
I snort a laugh. “You say it like we robbed a bank. It wasn’t a big deal.”
But as I’m saying it, I know that’s not true. The truth is, that spending that hour with her, from hearing her ungodly scream in Witty’s until I walked her to her car after the sea turtle eggs—the stars, her opening up about her stupid cousin and even stupider ex, and that hug—was easily the highlight of my year. Not that I will ever admit that to her or anyone, for that matter.
Which at first glance, isn’t saying much. Since Chloe left, my life is mostly work and no play, except for hanging out with my brother. And now that he’s engaged, that’s not happening much anymore.
But it stuck with me, all that night and the next day. And I was as surprised as she was to find out she’ll be working with me on Mayor Dobb’s private wedding venue business.
Dallas is a firecracker. And now, standing in her new office that smells way better than it ever did when it was Walter’s, I can see it’s going to be interesting working with her.
With the way her eyes are blazing, I’m starting to wonder if it’s going to play out okay or not.
“Well, it was highly unprofessional, especially considering we’d be coworkers, and if you’d only told me, instead of hugging me under false pretenses—”
“False pretenses?” A laugh bursts out of me. “It was a hug! We like to hug in Willow Cove, okay?”
She fiddles with a gold and pink pen, tapping it on the desk. “You love this place like it’s the Garden of Eden.”
There’s an undercurrent of hostility, completely different from the vibe the other night.
I lean forward and rest my arms on my knees. “What’s wrong with liking my hometown? Do you have a problem with it?”
“Not at all. I like it here.” She puts down her pen. “But I’m here to do a job and I’m going to do it.” Leaning back in her chair, she swivels left and right. “I’m going to knock your socks off.”
“Well, good. Looking forward to it.” I smile. “I just don’t understand the hostility.”
“Hostility? There is none towards the job or this town.” Her gaze falters. “Now, I might be slightly hostile towards you for misrepresenting yourself. But as it clearly wasn’t a big deal to you, it wasn’t a big deal to me, either, so…” She lifts a shoulder and stares at her desk, tracing the wood grain with her finger.
Wait. Does she think I didn’t like hanging out with her? Could she have misread me that badly? It’s not okay for her to think something so untrue, but now that I know we’re working on this project together, I can’t exactly wax poetic about the fun I had with her, can I?
“I never said meeting you wasn’t a big deal. It was…enjoyable.” I stare at her until her blue eyes meet mine.
At her brow raise, I scramble for any clue I can find to get this back on track—professionally.
But it’s the vulnerability in her eyes that makes me change my mind. If there’s ever a time to say anything like this, now is it. So probably against my better judgement, I stand and place my fingertips lightly on her desk.
Her gaze darts from my eyes to my cheek and back to my own gaze again. I’m probably a mess. My crew is pouring some concrete for a new build we’re working on, and getting the batch mixed up properly was a little messy.
“Look, Dallas. I had a really nice time with you Saturday night.” I slow my words and rest my hands on my hips, startled by the creamy blue of her eyes. They really are the color of the ocean. “And if we weren’t working together on this wedding venture, you’d better believe I’d be asking you to do it again in a heartbeat.” My gaze dips down to her lips, her sulky mouth that’s just begging to be—.
No. The time for thoughts like that has passed. They’ll be going into a vault never to be opened, especially because I have no business entertaining thoughts of women of any kind after the year I’ve had.
“But we are working together—” she says.
I drop my hands. “I know. So be that as it may, we have to be professional from here on out.”
There’s a flicker of something in her expression, followed by rapid blinking and a hard set to her jaw. “I was just about to say that.”
She is spicy, isn’t she?
“I’ve never worked with a wedding planner before. We’re in no position to get in each other’s business, as we’re clearly doing two very different jobs with a common goal.”
“Agreed. I say you do your thing. I’ll do mine.” For one brief moment, her eyes twitch and she smiles. Her eyes are distracting me. Her scent and the memories of her in my arms are twisting in my brain, too.
Finally, all that comes out is, “Okay. Sounds good.” By the time that last word is out, I feel like I’ve regained some composure.
So much so, that I somehow think it’s a good idea to extend my hand to shake hers. Some sort of action to signify that we had some fun the other night, but now it’s time to work, time to finish renovating Willow Wood Mansion and hope the mayor backs my proposal for the new teen wing at the YMCA.
Her gaze drops to my hand, but I stiffen my back to a better posture. If we’re more formal here, somehow that’s got to be better.
“Perfect,” she says. Getting to her feet, she grasps my hand, giving it a firm shake.
A jolt travels over my wrist and up my arm, leaving it with goosebumps.
I think Dallas Olivia Cardon is going to either make or break this whole wedding venue project, and possibly more aspects of my life than that.
Am I going to be able to keep my wits about me?