Chapter 30 #2
My mouth waters. “W-when did you do that?” I have zero recollection of him moving across the kitchen or hearing the microwave beep and hum.
Beck smirks. “While you were taking Grif and Kennedy through your profit projection slides.”
I blink. “Oh...” I glance around the kitchen. The windows are dark. “What time is it?”
“Seven-thirty.”
“It’s seven-thirty?!”
Other than a few trips to the bathroom and running upstairs for the one actual textbook I own, I’ve been in this kitchen since nine-thirty this morning.
Working on this project.
Non-stop.
My stomach gives another ferocious growl.
Lunch was like seven hours ago.
I’ve been locked in. In flow. In the zone.
All. Freakin’. Day.
And it was fun.
Heck, it was just as much fun as spending the afternoon at Viv Couture.
Further proof that I’ve been doing school all wrong for the last five years.
Because now? I’m excited.
Now, all the theory and practice and statistics and strategies actually mean something.
I want more of this.
But not tonight.
I’m hungry. Right the hell now.
And it’s all I can do not to just slam my laptop shut and wordlessly end the FaceTime call as soon as Beck takes the steaming tureen of gumbo from the microwave.
But I manage to find my manners and thank Grif and Kennedy for their input and support, say goodnight, and let Beck and Pop do the same.
Then I slam my laptop shut and dive into Beck’s gumbo.
“Holy Baby Jesus!” It's the best chicken and sausage gumbo I’ve ever tasted. Maybe it’s because I’m so hungry. Maybe it’s because I didn't have to wait ages from noticing that I was hungry to actually sating said hunger.
But, no, it’s not just that.
The rich, savory roux is just the right consistency. Dark, but not greasy. The chicken is so tender, it falls apart under my spoon. The andouille is spicy and herby and diced into small chunks that don’t hog the stage.
It’s perfection in a bowl.
I would know because I polish off two of them.
When I get up from the table to help Beck clean the kitchen, I groan. “My butt is sore from sitting here all day!”
Both Olivier men laugh.
I scowl.
“We’ll take a walk after we do the dishes,” Beck promises, swatting me lightly on my behind.
And even though I’m tired, a walk around the farm sounds pretty nice.
A few minutes later, we step outside. The screen door creaks closed behind us. And Beck takes my hand and leads me down the porch steps into the clear, crisp December night.
The sky is inky and sprinkled with stars. I tilt my head back, take in the endlessness, inhale the farm’s earthy aroma, and sigh in contentment.
I really love it here.
We’re a good ways from the house before Beck speaks.
“I think you gave my dad one of the best days he’s had in a long time.”
I snap my gaze back to him. “What are you talking about?”
One side of his mouth tips up and he squeezes my hand. “Asking him to help you with all of that.”
“I-I couldn’t have done it without him,” I blurt honestly.
His smile now is full-grown. “I know. And he knew too. I think he felt useful. Needed.” He tilts his head down, moving a little closer to me. “You couldn’t tell how happy he seemed?”
My brows draw together. “I think your dad is always happy… ish,” I say with a shrug. “I mean, he’s grumpy and gruff, but he’s funny and… he makes me feel welcome.”
Beck lifts a brow. “I think that has everything to do with you and how much he likes having you around… That makes two of us.”
Now I smile up at him. “I like being around. I like being here. It feels…” I hesitate just for a moment and then go for it. “It feels more like home than my actual home.”
Beck raises a hand to my face and drags his thumb down my cheek. His other arm wraps low around my back. “Hattie, with you here, it feels more like home than it has in years.” And then he tugs me to him until our mouths collide.
The kiss is a slow, simmering kiss. Full of banked heat and promise.
It’s a kiss that is as sure as it is shiver-inducing.
When his tongue slips into my mouth to caress mine, more heat and a few more silent, knee-melting promises pass between us.
When he pulls back, Beck's breaths are coming faster. Mine do too.
“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?” He pants. “How unbelievably perfect you are?”
I can’t help it. I snort right in his face. “I’m about as perfect as clown shoes.”
Beck just shakes his head, but he does it chuckling. “You’re funny. Honest… Real. So talented and so ridiculously humble. Everything about you is beautiful and life-giving. I feel sorry for anyone who doesn’t think you are the best person they’ve ever met. What could be more perfect than that? I—”
I press two fingers to his lips because my eyes are stinging. “I’m too tired. You say anything else, and I’ll fall to pieces.” I blink fast so he knows it’s close.
Beck makes a face that says this isn’t the threat I think it is. He tugs my fingers from his lips and squeezes them.
“Just one more thing and I’ll take you up to bed. Okay?” He waits for my consent, and I swear it’s as sexy as the first time he asked to kiss me.
I swallow hard against the rising lump in my throat and nod.
“Hattie, you came into my life and showed me everything I was missing. Laughter. Affection. Balance. Hope. A love so pure and deep and essential, I know I won’t ever want to go on without it.
” Beck shakes his head adamantly. “Sometimes, I imagine what would’ve happened if you hadn’t messaged the website that day after we met, and it scares the fucking hell out of me.
Because I can’t. I can’t fathom missing out on this—” He gestures between us.
“In my life… I can’t imagine missing out on you. ”
It’s dark, but not so dark that I can’t see the look in his eyes. Fear. Reverence. Love.
I throw my arms around his neck and stop him from saying anything more with my mouth this time.
I wreck us both with this kiss.
When I pull back, we’re panting even harder.
“You… Beck Olivier…” I say between breaths, “are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Better than family. Better than sewing machines. Better than oxygen. Because I feel more like myself when I’m with you than with anyone else in this whole, messy universe.”
Tears streak down my cheeks, but I ignore them. I’m crying again. Big deal.
“I knew it the day we met. I knew from the way you treated me that afternoon with so much acceptance and attention. You saw me and didn’t for a moment try to make me calmer or quieter or…
less me. I knew I had to try to find you, if nothing else, to tell you what that one encounter meant to me.
I knew I’d met someone remarkable, but I didn’t know I’d met my person.
My best friend. My love.” I laugh a little through my tears.
“It was a really fucking good surprise.”
Beck tilts his head back, laughing. He brings his gaze back to me, shaking his head. “I think every day with you is going to be a really fucking good surprise.”
I wipe my eyes. “You’re up for that?” Is it possible that he’s just as excited about all that lies ahead of us as I am?
In the next instant, he’s kissing me again, and I take it for his answer, so when he pulls back a long moment later and looks into me with all the fierce love his amber eyes can hold, his words are another really fucking good surprise.
“Hell, yes, Hattie. I’m up for that.”
And Hell-Yes-Hattie-I’m-Up-For-That officially becomes my new favorite phrase.