Chapter 17
SAWYER
WHEN I WOKE up the next morning, Beckett wasn’t there.
I lay there for a second, staring up at the ceiling, my brain doing that thing where it tried to piece together what had happened the night before. Music. Dancing. Beckett kissing me in the moonlight. Ripping off my clothes, literally.
And then, of course: “Does this cost more?”
I groaned and rolled to my side, dragging a pillow over my face like that might suffocate the memory.
“Idiot,” I muttered, the sound coming out muffled.
My brain couldn’t seem to fixate on any other part of the night, not even when he’d very clearly told me he wanted me. Nope. Straight to the part where I’d basically implied he charged by the hour.
God.
I flopped onto my back again and rubbed my face. Why, why, why had I decided to stick my foot in my mouth? It was a typical Sawyer move, sure, but those didn’t usually happen in the middle of a hot moment. Like when Beckett had been two seconds away from stroking my dick.
I’d panicked. That was all there was to it. I hadn’t known the answer, where the line was between what was real and what was part of our arrangement, and instead of asking like a normal person, I’d made a joke.
A very bad, no-good, terrible joke, and at the worst possible time.
Smooth, Montgomery. Good thing you’re paying him, because no rational person would stick around after that.
With a sigh, I pushed up on my elbows. The bathroom door was open, the light off, and the faint scent of his soap still lingered in the air, but he wasn’t in the cabin.
Shit. He hadn’t left, had he? He wouldn’t do that. I couldn’t blame him, but that wasn’t Beckett. In the little time I’d known him, I’d seen he wasn’t a guy who ran away. He was more the handle shit type, so maybe he was just outsi—
The door opened, and speak of the devil—more like angel, really—Beckett stepped inside, freshly showered, dressed in dark jeans and a fitted long-sleeve shirt, looking way too good after such a crazy night.
“Morning,” he said, like nothing had happened.
“Uh, hey. Good morning.” Under the sheets I was still in my briefs, my clothes scattered on the—
No, not scattered anymore. Beckett must’ve picked them up this morning.
Just another reason I should’ve handled things better than I had.
He held up the travel coffees in his hands. “Peace offering.”
I blinked. “For me?”
“For you,” he said, handing one over. “Figured you might need it.”
“You have no idea.” I took a sip and immediately sighed. “That’s actually lifesaving. Thank you.”
He nodded, drinking his own. “No problem.”
How was he so normal about this, so calm? Like the night before hadn’t ended the way it had?
“Brunch is in twenty. I ran into your moms getting coffee and they invited us out.”
“Oh…yeah, okay. Great.”
I knew I should say something, felt like I needed to.
We didn’t need any awkward tension the rest of the week or we’d both be miserable.
But just as I opened my mouth to acknowledge it, Beckett said, “I’ll be on the porch when you’re ready.
You can spiral on caffeine instead of an empty stomach while you get dressed. ”
Damn, he was giving me an out. Moving forward instead of having a difficult conversation.
I hated how much I appreciated that right then.
“Thanks. Just give me ten.”
He nodded and was out the door before I climbed out of bed, sporting morning wood that would’ve definitely made things more awkward.
brUNCH ON THE patio with coffee, tea, and food served family style was exactly what was called for after last night. There was enough on the table for a larger party, but it was only going to be the four of us, since apparently my brothers already had plans.
“Absolutely not,” my mom—Catherine, CEO, powerhouse, terrifying to most people but somehow still capable of organizing a themed party that involved glow sticks and wine coolers—was saying as we walked up. “If anyone suggests another dance party this week, I’m vetoing it.”
“Darling, you loved it,” Mama—Lily, theatrical, dramatic, and currently wrapped in a silk robe that could double as a costume—shot back. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t.”
“My feet disagree.”
“I told you not to wear those shoes.”
“The shoes matched the outfit.”
Mama only smirked at her over her teacup, but then she caught sight of us and her eyes lit up. “Finally, there you are.”
“You got him out of bed,” Mom said to Beckett. “I’m impressed. He’s not easy.”
“Good morning to you too.” I bent down to give her a kiss before doing the same to Mama. I slid into an open seat across from her, and Beckett pulled out the chair beside me, his hand brushing my back as he sat. Easy and familiar, like it was second nature to him.
Like nothing strange had happened between us at all.
“You both looked like you had fun last night,” Mom said, pushing the French press in our direction.
Beckett reached for it. “It was a great time,” he said smoothly, pouring a fresh cup of coffee in my cup first and then his own. “I didn’t think my knees would still be working this morning, but we survived.”
“Barely,” I added.
“This is where caffeine and carbs come in handy,” Mama said, buttering her toast. “Now, before we begin, just know your brothers already filled us in on the basics.”
I froze mid-stir. “Of what?”
“Nothing scandalous,” Mom said, though the slight curve of her mouth said otherwise. “Just all the questions we haven’t gotten to ask, like where you met, how long you’ve been seeing each other, that sort of thing.”
“Fantastic.”
“Which means,” Mama jumped in, “we can skip the boring questions and get to the good ones.” She held the bread basket out to Beckett. “Try the strawberry muffin—it’s delicious.”
He smiled at her and took one off the top, but I only shook my head. “There are no good questions, just intrusive ones.”
“What’s the point in being parents if we can’t enjoy all the embarrassing details?” Mama went on.
“I’m loving this. Really.”
Mama ignored me entirely. “All right, let’s start easy.” She pointed her butter knife between us. “Who made the first move?”
I choked on my coffee.
“Define ‘move,’” Beckett said, playing along.
Mama leaned toward him. “Was it him? It feels like it was him.”
He glanced at me, an amused tilt to his lips. “He did approach me first.”
Mama clapped her hands and laughed. “I knew it.”
“Traitor,” I muttered.
“Approached him at a hotel bar,” Mom mused, as she popped a grape in her mouth. “Interesting.”
“It was the lounge, actually.” Not that it made a difference, but bar sounded like I’d been out for a hookup or something.
“All right, what about who apologizes first?”
“Me,” I said quickly. When Beckett arched a brow, I added, “I really should just apologize on the daily because of what comes out of my mouth. There’s no excuse for it.”
There, that was the quick version of the apology I’d needed to get out after last night, and with the way his eyes warmed at my words, I knew I was forgiven.
That, and his hand squeezed my thigh under the table before he started on his muffin.
Mama waved a hand. “Wait, I’ve got one. What’s something about each other that surprised you?”
“His dance moves last night surprised me,” I said. “In a good way.”
He chuckled. “Thank you.”
“What about you?” Mom said, turning her focus on Beckett, who didn’t seem affected at all by her directness.
“You don’t have to answer that,” I told him.
He leaned back in his chair, considering the question instead of dodging it. When he answered, his gaze met mine in a way that made it hard to look away. “He makes it easy for everyone else before he does for himself.”
For a second, I didn’t move. Just let his words sink in and penetrate.
Did I do that? Make everyone else comfortable and put my needs last?
Shit… I did do that. It wasn’t something I’d ever thought about, but…wow. He’d noticed that about me?
“Yes,” Mama said softly, nodding. “He does.”
I was too caught up in Beckett’s stare, and I could feel my face getting hot.
I cleared my throat and took a sip of coffee, trying to play off how much it meant that he’d clocked that. “Okay. That’s enough of this game.”
“We’re not even playing a game yet,” Mom said.
“Feels like we are.”
Mama waggled her brows. “Not yet.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means you’ll be happy to hear we’ve decided tonight’s get-together will be a fun, relaxing…couples game night.”
“What? No.”
“Yes, darling.”
“Rome’s not in a couple, how’s that fair?” I said, trying to think of a way to get out of it. Not because I didn’t love a game night, but because I knew it was an excuse for them to ask more invasive questions later.
“He’s the host, of course.”
“Wait, I’ve got one more,” Mom said, tapping her finger lightly against her mug.
“No—”
“Living situation,” she said, ignoring me. “Whose place do you spend more time at?”
I wasn’t good at coming up with answers on the spot, but lucky for me, Beckett didn’t even hesitate.
“His.” He shot me a wink. “He’s got the better coffee.”
I let out an inward sigh of relief at that, because I did have a pretty epic coffee station. It made sense, not that he actually knew that.
I reached under the table and gave his thigh a squeeze like he’d done mine, a quick thank you. But as I drew my hand back, he covered mine with his, holding me there.
I swallowed at the small move that meant more than I could say in that moment. He was quick to forgive and move on, and for that I was grateful.
“He does love his coffee,” Mom said in agreement.
“And what about—” Mama started, but I waved her off.
“I love you both, really, but the caffeine hasn’t even hit yet.”
“And really,” Beckett said, squeezing my fingers, “if we tell you everything you want to know, that doesn’t bode well for the rest of you tonight.”
Mom narrowed her eyes, but she was biting back a smile. Mama, on the other hand, was clapping, giddy about Beckett’s agreeing to game night.
“Oh no,” I said, sighing dramatically. “You’ve done it now.”
That was what I said, but inside, I couldn’t help feeling happy and relieved that Beckett had the approval of my parents, even if this wasn’t a real relationship.
Although…Beckett’s hand holding mine made that spark of hope flicker alive in my chest again, so really, anything was possible.