7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Beckett
W ell, that was a close one.
The only other person who knows my pen name is Aunt Fiona. And her damn nickname almost let it slip. Thankfully, I was able to defer the conversation, but I have a strong feeling it won’t be the last time that Lola presses me about it.
It’s not that I don’t want to tell her; it’s just that I have to be super careful. My contract with my publisher is pretty strict about my identity. The fewer people who know, the less likely the media will find out. Aunt Fiona knows because she has been a mentor throughout my entire author career. She even helped review the contract, as she has a little bit of a law background.
My aunt also made sure to be the first one to stock any of Becky Lovegood’s novels.
Her support in everything I’ve ever done has always been unwavering—even more so than that of my mother. I didn’t fault her for that, not really. Fiona wanted to be my mother, whereas her twin Delilah was stuck being a single mother when she never even wanted children.
I patiently wait for Lola to finish her paperwork and aimlessly scan the shelves. I love how excited both women seem to be about Lola working here.
While she may not have asked the usual interview questions, I know that Fiona was more concerned about who Lola was as a person. Everything Fiona said or did was to gauge Lola's reactions. Even if she didn't realize it, she was being interviewed while they discussed their favorite pastries. She was even prodding more when she told Lola about the man who supposedly comes around once a week and proposes to her.
How would Lola handle difficult customers? Was she able to relax and be comfortable in the space Fiona created with The Book Nook?
And if my Aunt's excitement is any indication, Lola is passing with flying colors.
I know my aunt has been on the lookout for help for a while now, but she has been hesitant about bringing in someone she doesn’t know. However, when I started talking about Lola, my aunt was all on board with bringing her in. It’s a part-time position. But I have no doubt that if the two work out as well together as I think they will, this will turn into a much more regular hour kind of deal.
When Lola finishes signing the last document, her stomach growls. Loudly. Which prompts Fiona to shove us out the door and give me orders to ‘feed the girl.’
Taking the lead, I direct us back toward Marina’s house but cross over one street before hers. Lola's eyes practically glow with excitement when we step through the doors of what appears to be a hole-in-the-wall bar and into the most authentic Irish pub you can find.
“I take it this place works for you?”
“Oh yes, very much so. I love Irish food!” She clasps her hands in front of her and begins to fidget. Nerves? Excitement? Her stomach grumbles again, and she blushes. Ah. Hunger.
“Perfect! Do you mind if I order for us at the bar, and you can grab that booth there in the back?” I gesture to my favorite spot in here. It’s the furthest table from the door and the darkest, quietest place in the whole joint.
She nods enthusiastically and heads back while I order us each a pint of Guinness and a shepherd’s pie. When Sammy, the bartender, owner, and one of my good friends hands over the pints and a basket of bread, I head back to the table.
Watching her as I walk towards the table, I admire how the low lighting in the bar illuminates the heart shape of her face, which is amplified by the beauty of the smile she tosses my way. Just like the rest of her, her beauty is a contradiction. Her features are both sharp and soft. She’s so strong. Not a victim of her trauma. She is a survivor. A fucking warrior. A—
“So, do I have to beg for the bread? Because I am ridiculously hungry and may resort to biting soon.” Her voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I shake my head and laugh.
“Sorry.” I set the bread down, and she snatches a piece, breaks it in half, and salivates at the freshly baked crunchiness. Sammy’s wife is a baking genius. Thankfully, the distraction saved me from admitting what the hold-up was. But I am not opposed to a little... flirting.
“And you are more than welcome to bite me anytime,” I add a wink and have the pleasure of watching the pink creep up her neck and into her cheeks. She swallows hard, then grabs her Guinness. I try to swallow my jealousy when she moans into the glass. I remain calm and allow the change of subject. For now.
“This is so good.”
“It really is. Sammy knows his way around a proper Guinness.”
“Proper, huh? I guess I’ve never had a proper one before then because it sure hasn’t tasted anything like this.” She smacks her lips and takes another big drink.
“Oh, you have been sorely missing out. Although, I kind of like being the first to pop your taste bud cherry.”
She was ready for the salacious comment this time. She licks her lips slowly and glances at me from under her lashes before slowly reaching for another piece of bread.
“I bet you could give me all kinds of tastes. Couldn’t you, Beckie?”
The blood all rushed to my cock at the low growl and promise in her voice, making me nearly miss the name.
Taking the chance and seeing the steaming bowls heading in our direction, I quickly lean in close. Dangerously close.
“If that’s the name you want to scream out when I make you come, I can live with that.” Her mouth falls open, and she drops the bread on her lap as I lean back to make room for our bowls of food.
She better close that mouth before I stick something in it.
Yeah, eating in public was a good idea. If the heat in Lola’s eyes are anything even close to mine, we would have been doing far more making out than we would have been eating any food.
But...
My Queen deserves to be wined and dined.
She deserves that and so much more.
And if she’ll let me, I will give it all to her.