6. Chapter 6
Beck
The diner is half-empty. I choose a booth with a clear view of the parking lot and order coffee, my leg bouncing under the table. What the hell am I doing? A month of texts doesn't mean we'll have anything in person. What if the chemistry exists only through a screen?
My phone buzzes.
Sunny: Almost there! Running a little late, just got off work.
Two minutes later, the bell above the door chimes.
She walks in wearing a yellow sundress that hugs her curves, hair catching sunlight from the windows.
My mouth goes dry. The photos didn't capture how she moves, the way her hips sway, how her smile transforms her entire face.
But what in the hell is she wearing in this weather.
It's not summer yet. I don't care how beautiful she looks in it. She's going to freeze.
Our eyes meet across the diner. Her smile hits me like a freight train.
I stand as she approaches, blood rushing south at the sight of her up close. She's more beautiful than any picture could show, with her golden skin always making me think of the summer sun, and lips that look soft enough to bite.
She throws her arms around my neck without hesitation. Her body presses against mine, soft curves fitting against my chest. The scent of her is vanilla and warm skin, and it makes my head spin.
"You're real," she breathes against my neck, her lips brushing my skin.
"Real enough," I manage, my voice coming out rougher than intended. My hands settle on her waist, thumbs tracing the curve of her ribcage through thin cotton.
She pulls back to study my face, standing close enough I can see gold flecks in her brown eyes. "The beard suits you. Makes you look dangerous."
"Do I?" The question comes out lower, more intimate than I meant.
Her pupils dilate. "Maybe a little."
The moment stretches between us, charged with weeks of building tension. I want to back her against the nearest wall and find out if she tastes as sweet as she sounds.
She slides into the booth across from me, and I miss the warmth of her body. The server appears, eyebrows raised at seeing me with a woman. In five years, I've brought no one here.
"Just coffee," Sunny tells her, not taking her eyes off me. "And whatever smells amazing."
"Apple cinnamon pie. Made fresh this morning."
When we're alone, Sunny leans forward, giving me a view down her dress that makes my pulse spike. "This is surreal, right? Meeting after everything?"
"Good surreal," I say, forcing my eyes back to her face. Though the view of her cleavage is burned into my brain now, just like the photo that started it all.
She catches me looking, and her cheeks flush pink. Instead of pulling back, she leans closer. "I was so nervous getting ready. Changed clothes three times."
"You chose well." My eyes drop to where the sundress shows off her shoulders, the hollow of her throat I want to press my lips against.
"Flatterer." But she's smiling, pleased by the attention.
"But won't you get cold?"
Sunny smirks. "Beauty is pain, don't you know that." She winks and laughs leaving it at that.
The conversation flows like our texts, but everything feels heightened in person. When she laughs at my story about the bear, her hand lands on my forearm. Her touch burns through my shirt sleeve.
She pushes the pie plate toward me. "Share with me?"
Watching her lick cinnamon from her fork shouldn't be erotic, but my jeans get uncomfortably tight. She notices my stare and runs her tongue along the tines.
"Good?" I ask, my voice strained.
"Mmm." The sound goes straight to my cock. "Want a taste?"
She holds out her fork, loaded with pie. Instead of taking it, I lean forward and let her feed me, my lips closing around the metal. Her breath catches as I pull back slowly.
"Beck," she whispers, and the way she says my name makes me want to hear it in entirely different circumstances.
"So," she says, trying to regain composure, "what made you move up here? The whole mountain hermit thing."
The question I've been dodging, though right now I'm too distracted by the way her tongue darts out to catch a crumb on her bottom lip.
"Needed space after my divorce," I say finally. "Fifteen years of marriage that died a slow death."
"I'm sorry." Her hand covers mine on the table, skin soft and warm. "That must have been hard."
"Ancient history." I turn my palm up, threading our fingers together. "What about you? Besides the ex who was too stupid to keep you."
She squeezes my hand. "Josh never really saw me. Not like..." She trails off, blushing.
"Like what?"
"Like you do. Even through texts, you see me."
The honesty in her voice makes my chest tight. I bring our joined hands to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She shivers.
"Tell me about the food truck," I say, needing safer ground before I do something stupid like kiss her senseless in this diner.
Her face lights up as she describes her plans, but I'm distracted by how animated she gets, the way her free hand gestures while she talks. She's still holding my other hand, thumb absently stroking across my knuckles in a way that drives me crazy.
We spend hours talking about anything that pops into our minds.
Drinking copious amounts of coffee and ordering a few more slices of pie, eventually deciding on a couple of hamburgers and fries.
It’s calming and arousing to be around her.
I can’t remember the last time I just sat and enjoyed somebody’s company, and this luscious, curvy woman has me craving all of her time. I can’t get enough of her.
"What?" she asks, catching me staring.
"Just thinking about how badly I want to kiss you right now."
Her eyes widen, then darken. "What's stopping you?"
"Public decency laws."
She laughs, but it comes out breathless. "We should leave soon anyway. Don’t want to hold up the diner’s real estate, and we’ve been here for hours." She giggles again when she looks at her watch with wide eyes as she catches the time.
The sun is setting when we head outside, and I can’t believe how long we sat and talked. Something unheard of from me. She shivers in her thin dress, and I shrug out of my flannel.
"Here." I drape it around her shoulders, my hands lingering longer than necessary. The shirt hangs oversized on her frame, and something possessive and primal stirs in my chest seeing her wrapped in my shirt.
"Thank you," she says softly, pulling the flannel tighter. "Smells like you."
"Good or bad?"
"Definitely good." She steps closer, close enough that I could lean down and taste those lips I've been thinking about for weeks.
I grab her hand instead and let her lead me toward her car. Which looks rough with faded paint, rust spots, and definitely on its last legs.
“I had a great time today,” she says as she bites her bottom lip.
I can’t remove my gaze from her lips, but I force myself to and catch her eyes sparkling at me. “Me too.”
She gets on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek, making my skin burn with lust, before turning and jumping into her car, giving me a wink. “I’ll text you.”
She turns the key. The engine makes a grinding sound, then nothing.
"No," she mutters. "Not now."
"Pop the hood." I move to check the engine, aware of her standing close behind me, the vanilla scent of her hair mixing with mountain air.
The timing belt is destroyed, wrapped around the pulleys like a mechanical death sentence.
"How bad?" she asks, close enough that her breath warms my neck.
"Timing belt's shot. You'll need a tow."
"Of course." She leans against the car, my flannel gaping slightly at the neck. "Poor end to a perfect day."
Perfect day? I like the sound of that.
"I can drive you home."
Unspoken tension fills the ride across town. Every time I shift gears, my hand brushes her knee. She doesn't move away. If anything, she seems to lean closer, her thigh pressing against mine.
"I can't believe this is happening," she whispers.
"What part?"
"All of it. Meeting you. Feeling like I've known you forever." She turns to look at me, and the heat in her gaze makes my hands tighten on the steering wheel. "Wanting to do very inappropriate things with a man I just met."
Blood rushes south. "Sunny."
"What? We're both adults." Her hand presses on my thigh, fingers splaying across denim. "And I've been wondering what your hands would feel like on me for weeks."
I nearly drive off the damn road. "Keep talking like that, and we won't make it to your apartment."
"Would that be so terrible?"
Before I can answer, we turn onto her street. Something's wrong immediately. There were too many people outside; emergency vehicles were blocking the entrance.
"What the hell?" Sunny sits up straight, her hand leaving my leg.
A woman with a cat carrier explains the water main break, flooding, how the west wing is underwater. Sunny's face goes white.
"West wing," she whispers. "That's me."
She pushes through the crowd toward the building. I follow, catching her arm when a firefighter stops her at the entrance.
"You can't go in, ma'am."
"But my apartment—"
"What unit?"
"3C, west side."
His expression says everything. "I'm sorry. That's ground zero for the damage. Water's been flowing for hours."
She sways, and I move behind her, my chest against her back, arms circling her waist to steady her. She melts into me despite everything falling apart.
"My car won't start," she says, voice hollow.
"I know." My lips brush her ear as I speak, and she shivers.
"My apartment is destroyed. Everything I own." Her voice cracks. "My business plans, my recipes... everything."
She turns in my arms, burying her face against my chest. I hold her while she cries, one hand stroking her hair, breathing in her scent even as my heart breaks for her.
When her breathing steadies, I make the only decision that makes sense.
"Come stay with me."
She pulls back, tears clinging to her lashes. "What?"
"My cabin. Stay with me."
"Beck, we barely know each other."
"I know you take cream in your coffee but hate sugar, sing off-key in the shower, and think superhero movies are high art." I cup her face, thumbs brushing away tears. "I know I haven't wanted to take care of someone this badly in years."
"You're serious."
"Dead serious." I lean closer, close enough to kiss her if she wanted. "Come home with me, Sunny."
Her eyes search mine for a long moment. "Okay."
We stop for essentials - clothes, toiletries, things to get her through a few days. The entire time, awareness crackles between us. Her hand finds mine while we walk through the store. I catch her staring at my mouth when she thinks I'm not looking.
The drive further up the mountain is thick with tension. She's wearing my flannel like armor, but I can see her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat.
"I should be more freaked out about going home with a virtual stranger," she says quietly.
"Should you?" I rest my hand on her thigh, thumb tracing circles through the denim. She doesn't pull away.
"No. You don't scare me." She covers my hand with hers. "But maybe you should."
"Why's that?"
"Because I'm thinking very dangerous thoughts about what might happen when we get to your cabin."
My grip tightens involuntarily on her leg. "Sunny."
"I know it's crazy. My life just imploded, and all I can think about is being alone with you." She meets my eyes in the darkness. "Does that make me terrible?"
"Makes you human." I press a kiss on her palm. "And for the record, I've been thinking the same things."
"Good," she breathes. "I'd hate to be alone in this."
The cabin appears through the trees, windows glowing warm and welcoming. I kill the engine and turn to face her.
"Last chance to change your mind," I say, though everything in me hopes she won't.
"Nothing to change." She leans across the console, so close I can feel her breath on my lips. "I've been waiting a long time to see what comes next."
All my attention is on the woman beside me, wearing my shirt, looking at my home like it's where she belongs. And damn do I ever want her to belong here with me.