16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Beck
Dallas surprises me with the perk of a smile. She steps to me, slides her arms around my middle, and leans in close.
This is not unlike that first hug, mechanics-wise. Once again, both my arms are around her waist, barely reaching it since she’s petite.
Now this time, it feels more intimate. A nice, substantial hug, not too tight, not crab leg-like loose. Just right.
Then why does it have such a different effect on me this time?
The first one? Unexpectedly pleasant.
This one blows everything else out of the water.
Maybe it’s because I know her now. I know how serious about her job she is, how hard she works, how personable and warm she is with clients, all the while working relentlessly for them to have the wedding they’ve always dreamed of.
I also know what she looks like when she’s frustrated or stressed, how there are golden flecks in her brilliant blue eyes. How determined she is. Her strength. Her courage.
When she gives the barest of sighs, her head against my chest, wriggling closer to me, I come to my senses. I wait a couple of breaths before pulling apart.
“Thanks for that,” I say. “You sure you don’t want to go into the field of professional hugging? You’d make a killing.”
Her smile is warm, her gaze taking in my face.
I want to kiss her.
I cup her face with my hands, my thumbs gliding across her skin. I know my skin can be rough, so I’m extra gentle. Under the moonlight, I can see the sprinkling of freckles on her cheeks. The cool sea breeze whispers around us, causing her hair to lift off her face so that I can see the spot below her ear and the column of her neck.
She looks into my eyes and her gaze darts along my face, questioning me. An ache starts in my chest. I want to press my lips against hers more than anything. But when her gaze falters and lands on the water behind me, I take a step away.
“We’d better head back,” she says.
I nod, my heartbeat roaring in my ears along with the crash of waves against the sand. We make our way back to the mansion without speaking.
*****
Rosie drops Leo off for our Wednesday night practice on the beach in the sand pits up the road from the boardwalk. It’s near where I shared that first hug with Dallas.
I have a hard time getting my head in the game when Leo and his teammates show up.
Me? Having a hard time getting into volleyball? How does that sentence even exist in the world?
We warm up, run drills, and do strength and agility exercises. I have the guys run before we divide into teams and hold a scrimmage amongst ourselves.
When the hour is up, I head immediately for my truck, anxious to get over to the mansion to do more painting, while at the same time, feeling butterflies in my stomach.
Leo lingers after the other guys get picked up or drive away.
“Where’s your head at, Beck?” Leo asks. “If I’d been as distracted as you are, you would have yelled at me.”
I snort. “You’re not wrong, I would have yelled. Sorry. I’m probably just tired from a long day.” Even as I’m saying it, the truth blares in my ears. I’m not tired. I am distracted.
Leo peers at me with a gleam in his eye. “Tell me about the new wedding planner. Is her name Dallas or is she from Dallas?”
How does he know I was thinking about her? The way he says it sounds like he could be my brother or friend, not a kid who is more than twelve years younger than me and the number of dates he’s been on can be counted on one hand.
“She’s Dallas Cardon from Atlanta. Where did you hear about her?”
“My mom was asking me if I knew anything.” Leo smiles expectantly, like he’s baiting me to confirm whatever rumors his mom was attempting to share.
“Did she put you up to this?”
Leo shakes his head. “No. She was asking me what I knew or if Dallas had been at the practices and whatnot.”
“Why would Dallas be at the practices?”
I should have known it would be like this. I get offhand comments around town about my love life or lack thereof, and they ramped up when Chloe broke our engagement. But it’s taken on a new color of its own—the idea that Beck Billingsley needs to get married—ever since people decided I’d been single long enough.
“My mom was wondering if you’re dating or just friends.” He pulls out his phone from his duffel bag. “I’m going to send you one of my playlists, though. It helps me feel bold when it comes to the ladies.”
I shake my head, ready to talk about his ladies instead of my own—not that Dallas is “mine.”
“I am not going to listen to your terrible music. I bet you have some Charlie Puth on it, too.”
“Hey! Charlie Puth is the G.O.A.T. when it comes to winning over the ladies.” He pauses. “So…Dallas Cardon?
“She works for Martha Dobbs. That’s it. End of story.”
“I hear she’s attractive,” Leo says, the tone of his voice leading me on.
“Sure. She’s pretty. We’re colleagues, though. There’s no need to concern yourself with her or the situation.”
“It’s been months since Chloe.”
Where’s my rubber mallet? I could use it to hit myself in the head and get knocked out, putting me out of my misery. “I think you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Dude.” Leo slugs my shoulder. “It’s okay. My mom told me. And I’m sorry Chloe did that.”
A teen wants to discuss my dating life? Looks like I need to have a word with Rosie about teaching her kid to be respectful of people’s privacy.
“Do you think Dallas will go back to Atlanta after the summer?” he asks.
I exhale slowly. “I don’t know.”
“Most people who aren’t from around here leave in the fall. Just saying.”
I know that. Dallas has made it clear she’ll be moving on at some point. “Thanks, Leo.” There’s only a hint of sarcasm in my response, and I’m proud of myself for that.
“Anytime,” he says, blissfully unaware that I don’t need or want advice he’s not qualified to give.
Before he leaves, he turns to me, anticipation written all over his face. “So? You’re gonna let my Prom group eat dinner at Willow Wood, right?”
“Leo,” I warn. I don’t want to think about that right now.
“I promise you it won’t be a big deal at all. An hour and a half, tops. The guys and I will clean the kitchen the next morning. You won’t even be able to tell we were there.”
“Except I’d have to chaperone you, so of course I’ll be able to tell.”
“You know what I mean.”
I blow out a breath. “I’ll check on some things and then let you know as soon as I can.”
His smile is so enthusiastic that I know already I’m eventually going to tell him yes.
But why is it that after his mom comes to pick him up that I find myself stewing over what he said—that Dallas will leave Willow Cove just like Chloe did?
My punk neighbor thinks he knows a thing or two about women.
Maybe he knows more than I do. Because every time I find myself drawn to Dallas or getting distracted by thoughts of her, I need to remember his words.
She’s going to leave.