Chapter 5
As Libby and Becks made their way down the stairs the next morning, Becks only had one thing on her mind: coffee. If she could set up an IV to get it in her system faster, she would. This was the day before her wedding! She should feel excited, not like she got hit by a truck.
The scent of bacon permeated the air, luring her further into the kitchen.
As expected, her mom was standing on a stepstool at the stovetop in her white apron and holding a spatula.
The only thing Becks was grateful to her sperm donor for was allowing her to reach a little over five feet, but would it have killed the universe to allow her to keep going just a bit more?
Damn. But that’s what God invented heels for, she supposed.
Not knowing what the plan was for today since her mom had been secretive about it, Becks had dressed in a pair of red, four-inch pumps, jeans, and a loose blouse.
Libby was wearing her running outfit, since she still planned on getting at least a short run in that morning after breakfast. How Libby ate so fucking much and then went running without throwing up, Becks would never know.
Sometimes she got nauseous on behalf of her bestie just thinking about it.
“Morning, Ma,” Becks said, coming up behind her to give her a kiss on her cheek.
“Morning, baby.” Using the spatula, she pointed to the counter. “Coffee’s all set. I made your favorite vanilla caramel brew today.”
A sound of disgust came into the kitchen as Liam stepped inside. “Ew, Ma. Really? That shit is nasty.”
Becks stuck her tongue out at her brother as their mom came to her defense.
Without turning her attention from the stovetop, she informed her son, “This is the start of her wedding weekend. Anything she wants goes.” Then she said with a wicked smile that only Becks could see, “If you would settle down and get married, then you too could have the coffee of your choice on your wedding weekend.”
Liam clamped his mouth closed so fast, Becks thought he might have cracked a tooth. Yeah, there definitely wasn’t a wedding in Liam’s future any time soon.
Loretta turned to greet her son good morning, still smiling, but paused and frowned when she saw Liam’s face. “Baby, what did you do to your nose? Were you and Taran roughhousing in the middle of the night?”
Becks’ own eyes narrowed as she took in what her mom had immediately seen.
On the bridge of his nose was a red mark and the inside curves of both eyelids looked bluer than usual.
Becks wouldn’t define it as a ‘black eye’, but the coloring was definitely off.
Thankfully Becks’ mark was easily covered with a twirl of her hair.
Becks knew how she had gotten injured last night, but hadn’t been aware Liam had gotten hurt too.
Liam snorted and coughed into the glass of orange juice he’d just poured. “Ma! I’m thirty-four! I don’t ‘roughhouse’ with my friends anymore.”
Loretta just tsked her tongue. “You hang out in the same friend group and ride bikes around all day. Doesn’t sound that much different than your childhood, young man.”
Libby and Becks both tried to hide their amusement in their coffee cups.
It did not pass Becks’ notice that Liam had entered the room alone.
She bit her lip, trying to keep the burning question inside.
After Ghost had gone down the stairs last night, Liam had turned to her, likely to ask what the hell had just happened, but Becks quickly slammed her bedroom door closed before he could.
She tried to keep her eyes from straying to the doorframe. Where was Ghost? Had he left? And why—God why—could she still not answer his question when he’d asked her if she wanted him to leave? As if summoned by her thoughts, a figure filled the kitchen doorway.
Freshly showered and actually wearing a shirt, Ghost was pure yum.
His eye had a small bruise to the side from where she’d accidentally hit him yesterday morning.
With perfect posture, those muscles displayed by that tight black shirt, and the way his thighs filled out those jeans…
Becks bit her lip behind her coffee cup. Yeah, she was definitely going to hell.
Ghost’s eyes met hers immediately upon entering the room.
Not like he was looking for her, but like she was the only person in the room and his sole purpose for being here.
She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. While he didn’t appear happy, per se, to see her, there was an intensity behind his gaze that had her knees going weak and her lady parts salivating for attention.
There was no doubt that this man would make incredible babies.
Becks slammed her eyes closed. Jesus Christ! No, no! Bad uterus. Very, bad uterus. She was not having thoughts about having another man’s babies the day before her wedding. She needed to… She didn’t know what. Call Ritchie? Pray? Have a hysterectomy? Maybe a lobotomy?
Once her mom was done at the stovetop, she moved the pancakes, bacon, sausage links, and fruit salad to the table. Liam and Libby hurried to help her. Becks stepped out of the way with the intent of going to the fridge to get the fixings she needed for her smoothie.
Ghost moved in front of the fridge. Becks froze, nearly dropping her coffee. Immediately, she was brought back to the porch the night before and her body instantly reacted as if he was once again boxing her up against the house.
He leaned down, getting right up in her face even though there was maybe a foot between them. “You either walk to the table or I carry you there.”
Becks’ cheeks flamed, but the threat was very clear.
He did not approve of her smoothies for breakfast. It shouldn’t matter to him.
What she ate was none of his fucking business—and yet…
There was something so overwhelmingly comforting about having him care.
And sure, he was demanding and rude, which she probably shouldn’t find flattering, but just wow.
She could imagine being this man’s entire world.
The way he gave her his full, undivided attention.
Like they were the only two humans on the planet and no one else’s opinions mattered.
It was heady, and fuck her, because she craved more of it. She wanted to be someone’s everything. She wanted a man who saw only her.
Which she had. Goddamn it. She had that with Ritchie.
Except… Did she? Whenever they went out, it was rarely just the two of them.
And his work was always calling him away.
Not to mention, she was the one always reaching out to him.
It was something she’d talked to him about numerous times, and he always had some reason or another as to why he hadn’t talked to her that day.
Stop it! she scolded herself. What the hell was she doing? Why was she looking for fault in Ritchie? It was like she was trying to compare the two men and was purposefully making Ritchie draw the short straw. Ritchie was a good man. It was cold feet. That’s all this was.
She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “You don’t control me. I can eat what I want for breakfast.”
He didn’t flinch, nor did he back down. “The point is, are you? Do you actually want that green shit that probably tastes like a football player’s jockstrap, or do you want the pancakes your mom so graciously made for all of us?”
Becks swallowed. Jockstrap comment aside, the shakes weren’t that delicious.
She really did just want to drop a few pounds to look her best for her wedding.
There wasn’t anything wrong with that. But those pancakes really did smell good.
Her mom made them from scratch and always added extra vanilla extract.
Plus fruit and maple syrup? And this was her wedding weekend as her mom had pointed out to her brother.
Shit. She scowled up at Ghost. “Just because I’m going to go sit at that table does not mean I’m doing it because you said so.”
His lips twisted, and for a moment, she thought he might actually smile. “Whatever you say, Rebel.”
“Oh, Taran.”
It took Ghost a second to realize Loretta was speaking to him. He was pretty sure she was the only person to call him that other than telemarketers. “Sorry,” he said, swallowing his bite of pancakes. “Yes, ma’am?”
She gave him an indulgent smile. “I have a favor to ask. I need Becks out of the house for a while so I can set up her surprise for today. I was going to send her to the airport to pick up her aunt, but it’s a three hour drive with city traffic. Would you mind going with her?”
Ghost didn’t know who looked more shocked at the table: Becks, Ranger, or himself.
He didn’t have to think about his answer, though.
“Yes, of course.” Three hours alone in the car with Becks and then another three hours with Becks and her aunt?
Hell, he’d take the London Philharmonic in a clown car with them if it meant spending more time with her.
Because, apparently, he was a glutton for punishment.
“I’ll go,” Ranger snapped. He was sitting across the table from Ghost, and had been glaring daggers at him all morning.
Before Ghost could tell Ranger to shut the fuck up, Loretta spoke, “No. I need you here to help with set up. Taran is an unexpected helper and it’ll make me feel better about her driving into the city on her own.”
Becks rolled her eyebrows. “Ma, I go into the city all the time to see Ritchie. I can handle picking up Aunt Jean from the airport.”
Loretta still turned to Ghost. “You’ll go with her?”
“Absolutely,” he promised to both siblings’ ire.
Ranger stood up abruptly from the table. “Ghost, I need to speak to you. Alone.”
Ghost was tempted to ignore his best friend, but decided to keep the peace. He was obsessing over the man’s sister, after all. “Excuse us, ladies,” he said to the remaining inhabitants of the table.
Standing, he took his plate of pancakes with him. They were damn good pancakes.