Chapter 3
Wearing a pair of sweatpants, Ghost sat at the kitchen table with a bag of peas between his legs and a frozen steak on his left eye.
Ranger, completely oblivious of the emotional turmoil Ghost was in, kept saying how proud he was that his baby sister had been able to take Ghost down.
Under different circumstances, Ghost would have agreed with him.
It was certainly a rare instance that he’d been caught off guard so completely.
Becks, aka Rebel, couldn’t stop blushing.
Every time she looked at him, her cheeks threatened to light the house aflame.
But she was looking. And not just at his eye, but all over.
Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he was sure she’d clocked every one of his tattoos.
In his teens, he’d had his nipples pierced.
Unfortunately, the military had made him remove them as it wasn’t regulation.
Libby, the blonde Ghost had mistakenly presumed to be Ranger’s sister, was also looking.
Whereas Becks was trying not to be obvious about it, Libby was openly gawking.
In the past ten minutes, Ghost had learned that Libby had been Becks’ best friend since middle school, but had moved across the country a few years back for a job opportunity.
As maid of honor, she’d taken the week off to help Becks get ready for the wedding, and had been staying in Ranger’s room until Ranger’s arrival.
It annoyed Ghost how openly she looked, licking her lips as she did. And sure, he could put a shirt on to cover himself, but he was vain enough where he wanted Becks to look.
Because what? He thought his abs and muscles were so great that they alone could make her fall in love with him and dump her fiancé two days before her wedding?
This might be the first time that he’d ever met Becks in person, but Ranger talked a lot about her, including that she’d been in a committed relationship with her fiancé for nearly a year and a half.
His fucking tattoos weren’t going to change that—but he’d be damned if he would put a shirt on anyway.
Clearly Ranger didn’t know about her podcast, which made Ghost wonder why.
Knowing that his best friend was a movie fanatic, wouldn’t he have told him if his sister started a movie podcast?
There was no logical reason to keep it a secret, which made Ghost conclude that Ranger didn’t know.
Ranger had told Ghost years ago that his sister was going to college for audio engineering, and later landed a job with an animation company as a foley artist, meaning she created sound effects for animated movies.
Ghost had always thought that an interesting job, but had never put much thought into it.
Animated movies weren’t his favorite medium, though he’d come across a few good ones over the years.
As Loretta made a massive breakfast spread, despite the fact that there were only five people in the house, Becks and Libby stood at the counter sipping their coffees.
Ghost’s appetite was completely gone, though he wasn’t sure if that had to do with the fact that he’d just learned his perfect woman was about to get married or from the knee to the balls she’d just delivered him.
If it wasn’t for the pain he was in, he’d wonder if this was some weird, fucked-up dream.
Hadn’t it been only last night he’d made a crack to Ranger about Ghost marrying Ranger’s mother?
And now he was sitting here at the kitchen table with a bag of veggies on his balls trying to figure out just what the fuck he’d done to deserve this.
“Oh, Liam, Taran, don’t forget to get me your tuxes so I can steam them,” Loretta said as she placed the last of the food on the table. “Becks, baby, what’s on your schedule for today?”
Becks didn’t move towards the table as Libby did. Instead, she headed over to the fridge and started pulling out what looked like the ingredients for a rabbit’s breakfast. Spinach, kale, carrots, broccoli, and a lemon. She also grabbed an apple from the basket on the counter.
“Libs and I are heading over to the florist’s to pick up the order after her run.
” As Libby, Loretta, and Ranger dug into the meal Loretta prepared, Becks started chopping up her rabbit’s food and adding it into a blender.
Ghost’s eyes narrowed. What the fuck was she doing?
“Valerie wants to have another meeting with me and Ritchie, but he’s at work until tomorrow afternoon, so it’ll have to be a Zoom call—”
“Who’s Valerie?” Ranger interrupted.
“My wedding planner,” Becks answered. She cut the lemon in two and then squeezed the juices into the blender too.
Then she placed the half of the apple she didn’t put in the blender into a glass container with the squeezed lemon halves before placing a lid on it.
“The church has their own wedding coordinator, but Ritchie wants things a certain way and Valerie is trying to make that happen.”
“Well, hopefully they can find a compromise,” Loretta said as she placed a large plate of food in front of Ghost. Did she think he wasn’t eating because his hands were full of peas and a steak?
“I’m headed to the bridal shop to get our dresses at three.
Liam, baby, do you mind going into town and getting the rental tuxes for Ritchie and his party? ”
“We brought our hogs, Ma,” Ranger reminded her.
“I’ll be out with Libby in her car,” Becks threw over her shoulder.
“Take mine.” Before he could reply, Becks turned on the blender.
No one spoke for a few minutes while it ran.
Ghost continued to stare at her back. Following their meeting in the living room, she’d put a zippered hoodie on over her pajamas.
He wanted to tear it off her…with his teeth.
The blender stopped running. Becks reached into an overhead cabinet to grab out a tall glass.
Then she poured her green slop into it. She took a small sip, likely checking taste, before putting the blender into the sink and filling the pitcher with water.
Coming over to the table with her glass of guck, she caught Ghost’s eye.
Rather than look away, though, her eyes narrowed. “What?” she asked defensively.
Ghost watched as she took a seat. He lowered the steak to the table.
Honestly, he hadn’t needed it. She’d clipped his eye more than delivering a blow of force.
It hurt, and it stung, but he hadn’t really needed a full steak over it.
But he’d secretly liked Loretta fussing over him, so he’d accepted the slab of meat she’d insisted on putting on his face.
Now the bag of peas on his dick had definitely been needed.
“What the fuck is that?” he demanded, indicating her drink with his chin.
Becks’ cheeks flushed, but not like before when she was trying not to look at his body. It wasn’t shame, exactly. Her posture was still stiff. “My breakfast.”
Ghost pointed down at the plate Loretta had placed in front of him. “This is breakfast. That,” he pointed to her glass, “is tree diarrhea. Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who feels like they have to starve themselves before their wedding.”
“God no!” Her shoulders relaxed a little, but it wasn’t like her expression was replaced with amusement or something good humored. “I happen to like my body,” she informed him. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t want to look my best for my own wedding.”
Her answer, while unexpected, pissed Ghost off. He loved that she wasn’t ashamed of her shape, that the defensiveness she’d shown hadn’t been because she was used to being body-shamed. The confidence she presented in her statement was refreshing. It was the statement itself that pissed him off.
Standing, Ghost tried his damndest not to wince or limp as he dumped the steak into the trash and put the peas back in the freezer.
He picked up his plate of breakfast and brought it around the table to Becks’ side.
Dropping it unceremoniously in front of her, he dropped his mouth down to her ear and growled for the entire room to hear, “Who says you don’t already? ”
Becks gasped, stiffening under him. He grabbed her glass of grossness from the table. “Thank you for breakfast, Loretta. I’m just not hungry right now. I’ll go grab a shower while everyone is eating.”
Loretta, a little wide-eyed, nodded. “Of course, dear. There’s ibuprofen in the bathroom if you need it.”
He didn’t, but he still offered her his gratitude. He dumped the green shit in the sink on his way out. He’d prefer to go on a jog, but his balls might murder him if he tried right about now. He had no choice but to settle for a shower. A very, very, very cold one.
Why were men’s egos so fucking fragile? It had been the question that was on Becks’ mind all day.
Had she meant to fall and land on the sexy, very aroused man sleeping on her mother’s living room floor this morning?
No. Had she meant to knee him in that very endowed area and then elbow him in the eye?
Again, no. Had she meant to sit on him, forgetting that not all men liked a heftier weight on top of them, and causing him to lose his breath?
For the final time, no. But what the hell?
What was the guy’s problem? He’d been glaring at her all day, and what the fuck was up with breakfast?
What business was it of his if she drank a green shake for breakfast instead of the plate of home fries, eggs, bacon, and toast he’d dropped in front of her?
Before Libby and Becks had gone out to the florist, she’d nearly run into him on his way out of the bathroom. He’d still been dripping wet from his shower with a towel around his very defined, very muscular waist. Because, regardless of the ring on her finger, she was a woman—and she looked. A lot.