Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
BECKETT
S omething wet pressing against my face pulls me out of a dead sleep, and when I crack open an eye, I find Riley staring back at me.
I’m lying flat on my back on the couch, and Skyla, the woman I can’t get enough of, is draped over me, her head on my chest and arms wrapped around me, sleeping sweetly.
Riley lets out a little whine, telling me that he needs to go outside, so I gently roll the beauty in my arms to the side and prop a throw pillow against her chest. She immediately wraps herself around the pillow, and I stand and head for the kitchen.
Opening the back door, I let Riley slip outside, then I get to work making coffee. I can tell it’s still early since the sky is just starting to lighten, but the sun isn’t up yet.
It’s probably not quite six, and I’ve usually been up and working for an hour by now.
Does Riley always get his human up this early?
Just as I get the water in the coffee maker, Riley’s back at the door, so I let him in and stand at the sink, staring out the window to the backyard with my arms crossed as I wait for the coffee to brew.
“He’s always on duty. If I have a nightmare, he knows to turn the lights on for me. It’s one of the things he was trained for.”
Fuck. She has a dog trained to respond to her nightmares, and she somehow thought that would detract from her attractiveness. She’s so fucking wrong. Skyla Gallagher is one of the strongest people I know. To have to pivot her life’s trajectory so significantly … It’s so wrong. She lost her dream.
Now I understand more about why her brother, Connor, was a hard-ass. He isn’t just an overbearing older brother. He has good reason to be wary.
This thing—whatever it is—between Skyla and me has progressed a shit ton in the past twenty-four hours. We went from I hope she’ll give me her number to snuggle and talk the night away in the blink of an eye.
I’m so fucking grateful that my feelings aren’t one-sided. The way she touched me and smiled at me and confided in me last night tells me that she’s as into me as I am her.
Thank fuck.
It pisses me off that some deranged asshole almost ruined what could be the best thing in my life because she was scared to trust her own instincts where I’m concerned. She didn’t say that out loud, but it doesn’t take a psychologist to see that.
No matter what happens between us, he’ll never get near her again. I’ll fucking make sure of it.
The coffee’s finished brewing, and when I check the fridge, I find some coffee creamer and doctor up a mug for both of us. I assume she takes the creamer since it was in her fridge.
When I return to the living room, Skyla’s awake but hasn’t sat up. She’s fucking gorgeous in the morning, with sleepy moss-green eyes and messy hair. Having her tucked against me all night long was a slice of heaven. We couldn’t be more different, size-wise. I’m well over six foot four and more than two hundred pounds, and this whisp of a woman is a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter, but she fits against me like a missing puzzle piece.
“I smelled the coffee,” she says with a grin as she stretches. “And hoped you’d share.”
“Always, sweetheart.”
She sits up and takes the mug, gives it a smell and closes her eyes, then takes a sip. “I was never a coffee drinker until I moved to the States. Now I don’t know what I’d do without it.”
Sitting next to her, I take a sip from my own mug. “I let Riley out.”
“I appreciate that. Also, I can’t believe I forgot to set the alarm last night. I must have been preoccupied with good conversation because I never forget the alarm. Connor would be livid.”
“You had both Riley and me here.” I reach over to smooth her hair over her shoulder, then let my thumb brush over her bare skin. “You’re safe.”
Her brows pull into a slight frown before she takes another sip, and she sets the mug aside, then pulls her legs up under her, shifting just out of my reach. Just like that, a wall goes up.
Fuck that.
“What’s wrong, Irish?”
She bites the lower lip that I’ve learned is my favorite thing to taste and lets out a sigh.
“I might have divulged too much last night. It was a lot to dump on you all at once, and, well”—she clears her throat and pushes her hair behind her ear—“it’s sorry I am for making you uncomfortable.”
I lift an eyebrow and move closer to her so I can touch her, run my hand down her thigh. “Do I look uncomfortable?”
“I don’t think I know you well enough to know if this is your uncomfortable look.”
“Trust me, it’s not. I asked you to tell me, remember?” My knuckles drift down her cheek, over the freckles there. “You didn’t say anything that made me want to run away. If that were the case, I wouldn’t have stayed, Skyla.”
She nods once and links her hands in her lap nervously, and I don’t like it one fucking bit. “Beckett … I’m a lot.”
“You slept on me all night, so you won’t pull away from me now unless you’re telling me that I’m completely off base and last night didn’t affect you the way it did me, in which case I’ll apologize, and I won’t bother you again.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Good.” Reaching for her, I cup her cheek and brush my thumb over her skin. “You’re not too much for me, Irish. You had something really shitty happen to you, and you want to make sure you’re safe. I want to make sure you’re safe. That’s not a lot or too much, but even if it was, I can handle just about anything you throw at me. Let’s not end this before it begins just because of The Asshole. He doesn’t have any power in this.”
She swallows hard and closes her eyes. The next thing I know, she’s crawled into my lap and wrapped herself around me, almost desperately.
“I was afraid you’d come to your senses this morning and decide I’m not worth the trouble.”
“You’re worth a whole lot of trouble.” That makes her chuckle, which is what I wanted. “But what you shared with me last night isn’t trouble, sweetheart. It’s simple honesty.”
“Okay.” She rubs my beard in that way that makes my cock sit up and beg.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
“I’m always hungry in the morning.” She pulls back far enough to smile at me.
“Fuck me, you’re beautiful,” I whisper before brushing my lips across hers. “It’s a punch in the gut every time you look at me.”
“You say lovely things, Beckett Blackwell.”
“Just being honest. Now, let me take you to breakfast before I haul you off to bed because we’re not doing that on this date.”
My cock is not in favor of that declaration, but I’m not going to rush this with her and fuck everything up.
I can be patient. I can earn her trust.
* * *
An hour later, after Skyla changed clothes and gave me a toothbrush to use, the three of us walk into Kay’s Diner and are shown to a booth by the windows.
Kay’s is newer to town and is a typical 1950s-style diner with old rock-and-roll decor, black-and-white-checked floors, and red vinyl seats. There’s even a jukebox that’s always pumping out music. Today, it seems to be an old Prince song.
It’s fun, and breakfast here is delicious.
“Have you had the crepes here?” Skyla asks me as she dances in her seat.
“No, ma’am. Are they a must try?”
“If you enjoy crepes, you’ll like these,” she says, and when the server comes around to take our order, I go for the crepes.
Skyla orders bacon and eggs.
“No crepes for you?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.
“I admit, I have a plan.” She grins and leans forward as if she’s going to tell me a secret. “You ordered them, so I can have a bite of yours and eat something else as well. Best of both worlds.”
“And if I don’t want to share?”
She bats those eyelashes at me and bites her lower lip—and yes, I’d give this woman anything she wanted. Crepes. A car. A kidney.
She wants it, she gets it.
“Yeah, okay, I’ll share my crepes.”
“That was simple.” She twists her legs up under her and sips the coffee that the server just dropped off for us. “I’ll share my bacon with you.”
“I’ll let you.”
“Do you have chickens on your farm?”
“About a dozen or so, yeah.”
“And do they produce eggs for you?”
“Plenty. If you ever want some, let me know.”
“I absolutely want some. Farm-fresh eggs are the best.”
“When are you free to come out? You can choose your own eggs and anything else you want.”
“I can shop right on the farm?” Her eyes light up at the idea, and I feel like I just won an award or something. “I’ll take you up on that. Let’s see, I have classes this afternoon, and I’m sure you have plenty of work to catch up on since I’ve monopolized the better part of the past twenty-four hours.”
Worth it.
“What about tomorrow?” she asks. “Is that too soon?”
“It’s not too soon. Will Riley be okay around the animals?”
Skyla nods and sits back as our food is delivered. “Yes, he’s well trained and will listen to any command I give him. He’ll be curious, but he won’t attack any of the animals. If you’d rather I leave him at home, though, I will.”
I frown over at her. “But you always take him with you.”
“It’s true that I do always have him with me, but …” She shrugs and reaches over to take a bite of my crepe, and it makes me grin. Fuck yes, I’ll share my breakfast with her. “I think I’m safe with you out at the farm.”
“You’re safe with me anywhere, Irish.” When she holds her bacon up and offers me a bite, I take it and wink at her. “But Riley isn’t a problem, so if you want him on the ranch, he’s welcome.”
“I’ll decide tomorrow, then.” She scoops some eggs onto a piece of toast and takes a bite. I love her appetite. She’s not afraid to eat. “What do you have to do today? I’m curious.”
“I’ll take over the afternoon milking and feeding,” I reply, thinking it over. “I need to check on the rentals. I’ll probably saddle up a horse and check some fence line to make sure nothing needs to be mended or replaced. There’s always a list of chores that needs to get done.”
“And what time do you typically start in the morning?”
I offer her the last bite of crepe, and she accepts it, popping it in her mouth with a happy sigh.
“Around five,” I reply. She chokes on her food, then reaches for a glass of water. “Not a morning person?”
“ Five ? Ugh, that’s early. I used to start dance practice at seven, so I’d be up at six, and it felt like I was being punished for something I’d done in a past life.”
“You were up early this morning,” I remind her.
“I was sleeping on a man, on the couch, so it was a little different.” She stops to think about that and chuckles. “A lot different, actually.”
Her phone rings from inside her bag, and she frowns, licks her lips, and digs the phone out of her bag.
“Sorry, it’s Mik.”
“Take it.”
She answers but doesn’t leave the table. “I thought for sure you’d be in practice right now. What are you about?”
She listens, and I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s quick to smile, to laugh, to offer a kind word. She’s not only beautiful on the outside but on the inside, too.
“Mik, that’s wonderful. Congratulations. Of course, I’d love to see that performance, but you know I can’t—yes, I know. I’m so proud of you. I love you, too. Come see me soon. Bye now.”
With a sigh, she drops the phone back in her bag.
“He secured the lead in a performance we’d been working on for years,” she says softly. “And I’m so proud of him. He deserves that role.”
“And he wants you to come watch it. Of course, he does. You should.”
Skyla shakes her head. “I won’t ever go back to New York. I just can’t. But it’ll be filmed, and I’ll watch it from here.”
“Wait.” I reach over and take her hand in mine. “Are some of your performances available to watch online?”
“Many are, yes.” She nods and wrinkles her nose. “You want to watch them?”
“Fuck yes, I want to watch them.”
“Don’t watch them with me,” she insists. “Because I’ll be annoying and give you all the commentary you didn’t ask for. And I’ll critique myself endlessly. I’m not a good audience for myself.”
“You’re not invited, then.” I laugh when she frowns. “You just said I shouldn’t watch with you.”
“I thought you’d try a little harder than that.”
“Okay.” I pull my card out and offer it to the server. “Let me watch it with you so you can teach me something. Maybe tell me what you were thinking when you were performing.”
“I knew you’d be good at the convincing. All right then, I’ll watch with you sometime.”
I like that we continue to make plans.
After I drive Skyla and Riley home and get her car stowed away in the garage, I walk through the house with her, and she joins me on the porch.
“That was the longest date of my life,” she says, checking her watch. “Fifteen hours sets a record.”
In answer, I take her chin in my fingers and tilt her face up so I can nip at her lips before sinking in and dragging my tongue along the seam of her mouth. She opens up for me and groans as her hands fist in my shirt. I slip my free hand over her hip and around to her ass, pulling her against me.
When I pull my lips from hers, I gaze down into emerald pools and feel my heart stutter. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll pick you up.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I’ll pick you up, Irish.” I kiss her once more, and then tear myself away before I lift her up and carry her back inside, straight to her bedroom, and lose myself in her for the rest of the day. “Have a good afternoon.”
“You too.” Her fingers are on her lips as she watches me climb in my truck, and just as I’m about to pull away, I see her in the rearview mirror, standing there, and I can’t resist her.
I throw the truck in park, push out of the vehicle, and march up to her. As I approach, her arms open wide, as if she already knew what I was going to do. With my hands planted on her ass, I lift her, and she wraps those strong legs around my waist, her hands dive into my beard, and I kiss the fuck out of her.
She moans, and my dick hardens. Jesus Christ, I want her more than my next breath.
“Beck,” she whispers against my lips.
“Yeah, Irish?”
“Tomorrow feels far away.”
I grin and nip at her lips once more, and she moans, pressing herself closer to me as she wraps her long arms around my neck, holding on tight. I bury my face in her neck, hugging her close.
“I know. It’s already killing me. What time are you done with classes?”
“Four,” she says against my skin.
“I’ll be there at three fifty-five.”
Skyla nods, and I release her, letting her slide down my body to her feet. Her eyebrow quirks at my hardness pressed against her.
“I’ve been touching you for fifteen hours,” I remind her. “It’s fucking torture, but it’s worth it.”
She laughs and leans in to kiss my chest, right over my heart. “Drive safely, Mr. Blackwell.”
“Have a good day, Ms. Gallagher.”
I return to my truck and pull away from the house, sure not to look in the rearview, so I’m not tempted to stay with her. I have too much to do at the farm, and I can already tell that twenty-four hours are going to be too many without her.
Before I head home, I stop at a tractor supply store and load up on things I’ll need for Riley if they spend a significant amount of time at my place. It may be presumptuous, but dammit, I want them at the farm with me as much as possible.
And so, with all of the gear Riley could need loaded up in the truck, I set off for home.