Chapter 28
Lacey
An hour later, I pull out the bags of to-go plates we picked up from Carl’s, while Beckett starts unloading the lumber from the back of my truck.
“I am going to set these inside on the table and come back and help you,” I tell him.
“Go ahead and eat. I’ll be right there,” he tells me.
He must see the struggle on my face not to argue when he turns to face me. “You have helped a lot today; go eat, Lace. I promise, I got this.”
“Okay, if, you’re sure.”
He nods, with a soft smile before turning back, grabbing four planks at a time, and bringing them closer to the porch in a pile. I don’t miss the way his shirt rides up when he bends, showing his 6 pack and the V-cut that disappears into his jeans. “Lacey?”
“Hmm?” I jump.
“Go inside.”
“Okay.” I turn quickly and make it inside, taking a deep breath. Get it together, Lace.
Setting the to-go plates out on the kitchen counter, I reach inside the cabinets and pull two plates down for us to fix whatever we want on them.
The door to the front door closes, making me turn. “Beckett!” I scream rushing over to his now shirtless body that has blood rushing down his side.
“What happened?” I grabbed a towel off the counter and pushed it over the cut.
“One of the old wood planks we ripped up stuck in me when I tripped over them walking back in the house. One of the nails stuck in me. It’s fine, Lace. I am not bleeding much.”
“A rusty nail stuck in you?” I am mortified. He can get tetanus from a rusty nail.
“It’s okay. I am bleeding, which means it’s cleaning the cut.”
I raise an eyebrow. “When did you go to medical school?”
He grins. “When you ride bulls like I do, you learn a thing or two about bandaging yourself up.”
I pull the towel back to inspect it. He is right, the bleeding has already started to slow down. “Why are you shirtless?” I gulp, the room suddenly getting hotter.
Beckett’s hand touches mine, moving it away from the cut. “Picking up four planks at a time in this heat will make you sweat.”
“Let me go get the first aid kit. You need a dressing on that cut.” Honestly, I just need an excuse to put some distance between us.
Beckett nods, moving around me and toward the plate of food while I make my way down the hallway to the bathroom for the medical kit.
On my way back, I find Beckett sitting at the table. He not only fixed himself a plate, but me, too. And mine sits beside his on the dining room table.
“Thank you,” I smile.
“You’re welcome.” He nods, taking a bite of his food. “Don’t worry about the bandage, Lace. I will do it after I eat. You need to eat, too.”
I sit down. “Nonsense. Let me do it really quick.” Pulling the bandage from the box, I take it out of the wrap, and grab the antibiotic ointment, running a large amount across the bandage before placing it near his cut. A sharp inhale from him makes me realize my hands are cold.
Because all of my blood has rushed to my core—or somewhere lower.
“There.” I smile, inspecting my work with pride. “Now, I need you to stop with the black eyes and cuts.”
Beckett chuckles, and the sound makes my heart skip a beat or two. “I will try my best.”
Seconds later, I am diving into my own plate, my stomach thankful I finally listened to its starvation cues, but my heart hasn’t slowed down yet from being so close to a shirtless Beckett beside me.
“Gosh, I missed BBQ from Carl’s. They don’t make food like this in Vegas.”
“Let me guess, you get the luxury meals.”
He turns to me, a fat grin on his face. “You want to hear an embarrassing story?”
“Of course.” I lean in with exaggeration, forcing my eyes to look at him and not his abs or biceps or, God, anywhere else that isn’t his face.
“My first time there a few years ago my agent and a few higher-ups in my management team took me out to celebrate after a qualifying win. It was a fancy restaurant with white cloths on the tables, water already in glasses waiting on us.” He looks down at the table, unsure if he should tell me the rest. “When the waiter came around to take our orders, I ordered chicken fingers and fries. Everyone just stared at me.”
I put my hand over my mouth. “You did not.”
He nods. “I so did. The waiter told me they had no such thing so next I said maybe a cheeseburger. My agent pulled me to her and told me she would order for me. I still to this day don’t know what she ordered but it was nothing like the cooking here, never has been.”
“I don’t think I could make it out there then. Chicken and fries are my favorite.”
“Your mama always made the best ones.” Beckett grins as if a memory is playing in his head.
We have been so busy the past few hours, for that little amount of time, I had forgotten about my grief and my anxious thoughts.
Now, I remember the smell of her chicken cooking in the cast-iron skillet on the stove.
The way she battered them perfectly, and the way I would always go for a second plate; that she made sure there was a mound of chicken cooked for all of us.
“Oh, Lacey. I am sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Beckett notices the tears welling inside my eyes.
I shake my head, “No, it’s fine. I am remembering the smell of her chicken, too. I never could get mine like hers. The way she breaded them was the magic touch.”
“I think I ate more than my share one time and ended up puking my guts out an hour later when your dad had us fixing fences,” Beckett admits, making me bend over into his shoulder in laughter.
“Oh, I needed that laugh.”