27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Beck
Somewhere in these crazy few weeks, I’ve gone from being mildly annoyed by the gorgeous, enthusiastic, wedding machine named Dallas to completely smitten with her and wondering how I carried on in life without her.
I want to kiss her again. Every moment I’ve spent in my kitchen since then, that’s all I can think of. I’ve taken to eating bowls of cereal on my couch instead of the kitchen just so I can think of other things.
This attempt to distract my mind hasn’t worked very well, especially when I see Dallas at work.
She’s taken to filling in as our resident interior designer. Delivery trucks will pull up to Willow Wood with all the furniture and finishings and as soon as they’re ready to be unloaded, there she is, directing traffic, overseeing the furniture assembly, making sure that everything looks just right.
I told her we’d meet at the mansion at six tonight and I have a lot to do in the two hours before then. We’re balancing several projects at a time—necessary when you’re the only general contractor in town. The mansion has been my top priority but other projects have taken a back burner, so I need to do some catch-up.
When quarter to six rolls around, I finish one last email and start to head out the door.
Elliott’s in the reception area and when he sees me, he shakes his head, grinning. I recognize it immediately as his “Billy and Dallas like each other” smile.
“What else needs to be done in the mansion before the Dobbs wedding on Saturday?” Elliott asks.
I appreciate he’s leading with something work-related instead of teasing me about Dallas. “It’s mostly just the finishes. Furniture assembly is coming along. The white event chairs arrived this morning.”
“Has the aisle runner been set up?”
“We’ll do it day of,” I tell him. “You could install the bathroom mirror, the one just inside the back door. That hasn’t been done yet.”
Elliott nods and I can feel the shift coming before he even speaks again. “If I head over there now, would that cramp your style?”
“What? Nope.” I have a feeling where this is going but Mary is right here and can hear every word.
“With Dallas. I know you two hang out there at night. Well, the nights she’s not at your house or at a game you’re coaching.” His brows wag.
I toss a glance back at Mary, whose mouth twitches as she stares at her computer screen.
“In answer to your question, no. Coming over now won’t be a problem.”
Elliott presses. “But she’ll be there, right?”
I shift in my stance. “Yeah, she’ll be there.”
“And she seemed fine with it when he asked her to meet him there,” Mary supplies.
I narrow my eyes at her as Elliott laughs. “You’re so obvious, you know,” he says.
When I only shake my head, he continues. “Dallas is great. I’ve never seen you like this, man. You liked Chloe. But this is different. It’s like…” He screws up his features and pauses. “…real. And very mature, actually.”
My younger brother is calling me mature? “And is that a surprise?”
“It’s like you’ve been pretending to be happy, pretending to be all good. But you weren’t. Except now? The old Billy’s back.”
“Not the old Billy. A better version!” Now Mary has gotten out of her desk chair and is coming toward us.
“You guys, I have to go,” I say.
“To meet Dallas, we know,” Mary says, drawing her fists together at her chest in a hopeful motion.
“To finish the mansion. We’re not done yet. The wedding’s this week. This isn’t about Dallas.”
“But it could be about Dallas,” Mary adds. “It’s really nice to see you so happy, Beck. Don’t fight it.”
“Don’t mess things up,” Elliott says. “And don’t deny it.”
“I’m not—” I take a deep breath. “I do like her. I like her a lot.” Relief floods me at finally saying those words aloud.
Elliott whoops, his voice echoing off the walls of our building.
“But we need to focus on the weddings and our construction jobs. It would be irresponsible to do anything too…serious this summer.” I make sure my wallet’s in my back pocket and that I’m holding my keys. If I start walking to the door, maybe they’ll get the hint that I don’t want to talk about this.
“Why would it be irresponsible?” Mary asks.
“She has no plans to stay in Willow Cove.” It comes out a little rough.
“So what?” Now Mary’s words are rough, her brow sinking down in a frown. “Convince her to stay. She likes it here.”
“But her dream is to take over the wedding firm in Atlanta.”
“There are construction management jobs in Atlanta, Beck,” Mary says.
“I can’t do that. Integrity Construction is the family business. And it’s not like I can ask Elliott, he’s leaving.”
“So Portia can get her master’s degree,” he says. “We may come back after that.”
I start to protest but Mary puts up a palm to shush my excuses. The air has gotten hot and humid in this building. I might need to change my shirt before I go see Dallas.
When Mary doesn’t say anything, I widen my arms and cave. “I do like her. How could I not?” An image of Dallas on the beach with her windswept hair flashes through my mind.
Mary grins and rolls her eyes. “I’m just glad you’re finally admitting it to yourself.”
“There’s not much I can do about it.” I state this flatly. It’s true. We’re heading in completely different directions.
“You ask her out,” Elliott says. “You tell her how you feel. Romance her.”
“Real helpful. Is that what you did with Portia? Romance her?” I grunt out a laugh.
“As a matter of fact, I think I did.” He points to me, a calculating smile splitting his face. “You ask Portia, but I think I did.” He punctuates the last few words.
“Well, congrats. You deserve a gold star.” I can’t hold back the sarcasm.
Mary pats Elliott on the back. “He really does. He fell for Portia and didn’t let anything stand in his way. It’s admirable,” she says.
Okay, okay. Admirable? I wouldn’t go that far.
But maybe I could use some of the courage he has for once.
“I can give you some pointers. Or better yet, we can talk to Portia and she can tell you firsthand what worked and what didn’t.”
I begin to leave. “You’re an idiot, Elliott.”
“Yet, I’m the one engaged…” The tone of his voice is casual, but I don’t appreciate the smirk.
I hear Mary smacking Elliott’s arm. “Elliott! Too soon.”
All I can think to say is, “I hate you both.” Followed by, “Go play in traffic, Elliott.”
Immature? Yes. But they cornered me, and I had some fight-or-flight stuff going on. Besides, all I can really think about is that soon I’ll see Dallas again.
And maybe it’s a good thing that Elliott will be over there hanging the mirror. Having him as a buffer might prevent me from doing anything crazy—like discussing the possibilities of something more long-term with Dallas.