by Emilia Finn
I manage to scan the note with a single eye, and when I have the date mostly memorized, I hit up Google and search for the shittiest possible accommodation I can find. If Beckett has a hotel he prefers, then he should have told me. But since he didn’t, I scan the top five hits that come up when I search.
The first is a little too fancy. No need for a king spa suite for a guy traveling to see other vets while they boast about the size of their… stethoscopes.
“Strike that one.”
I continue past a place that looks like it might give him fleas.
“Tempting.”
But it’s on the highway, seedy and gross. And while I wouldn’t mind settling Beckett in for a night of discomfort, I really would prefer he survives the ordeal.
I scan a few more places; dives, and those with a pool, minus the water. Finally, I stumble upon something in the middle—a family-run bed-and-breakfast—and grin, knowing he’ll hate it. Instead of valet parking and black-tie restaurants, I book my boss a B&B experience where he’ll have to share a bathroom with other guests, and if he wears a suit, he’ll be the only one there doing so.
Not that Beckett Rosa seems to care about looking different. He wears a suit to a job where he shoves his hand up a cow’s ass.
I’m booking you in to the Meadow Hill’s Bed and Breakfast, I think to myself. My quiet rebellion against the guy who sends me insane half the time. The other half is when I sleep.
Which, I guess he’s invaded now, too.
“Stupid sex dream,” I grumble and hit Book Now.
“Did you say something?”
“Argh!” I spin in my chair and growl when I find Beckett standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame in his GQ model pose.
He looks fantastic, like always. His suit is powerful and pleated. His tie, sexy and understated. He’s shaved, so his five o’clock shadow works even at eight. And his hair is combed, neat and shiny from just the right amount of leave-in conditioner.
Fuck him for looking fresh when I feel like death warmed up.
Fuck him for the smile I remember seeing in my dream.
Fuck him for confusing me.
And worst of all, for making me come without even trying.
I’m a faithful woman, loyal, and in a relationship with someone else. But now here Beckett is, fresh and beautiful, and he’s invading my dreams, all without my permission.
“What the hell is your problem?” I snarl. “Why are you sneaking up on me like that?”
He folds his arms and rests against the doorframe with a smirk. “I wasn’t sneaking. I literally called out and asked if you were here.”
“And I answered.” I spin back to my computer before I shout at him for the second day in a row. “I said leave me alone till nine. I’m hungover.” And I dreamt of your penis. Oh my god, I dreamt of your penis!
I jump when hands touch my shoulders. They massage the back of my neck, dig deep into aching muscles, and bring my heart to a dead standstill. “What… what are you doing?”
“Showing you that I see you,” he murmurs. “I hear you. And I sure as fuck appreciate you.”
“Oh. Ohhhhh.” My eyes flutter closed when his thumb touches something magical. “Shit, Beckett. That feels good.”
“Mm.” He steps closer, so the warmth radiating off his body touches my back and sends tingles of comfort along my spine. “I wanted to talk to you about last night. About, um…”
My heart spikes, and my brain reminds me again of my dream. Though, of course that’s not what he’s talking about. No, he’s referring to my tantrum.
“I need to apologize,” I cut in before he can finish. “The things I said were… well… I was insubordinate.”
“Sometimes, insubordination is called for,” he chuckles. He leans closer, so his breath fans the back of my hair. “Sometimes it’s exactly what two stubborn people need.”
“I was rude,” I insist. “Inappropriate. I was frustrated.”
“I was frustrated too.”
“I was unkind. And when you, my boss, told me to do something I’m damn well paid to do—”
Beckett’s hands stop. “Wait, what?”
“I act like you’ve tricked me into this job,” I concede. “I act like I was promised one thing, and you’re the sneak who isn’t delivering. But the truth is, I was the one who came here with ulterior motives. I knew what job I was applying for, but I did it anyway, hoping to trick you into a partnership.”
His hands remain still on my shoulders. “Partnership?”
“Yeah. A business partnership. Like, I knew you were the only veterinarian here. But I guess I hoped to eventually have the opportunity to buy in and make this practice ours.”
“Ours?” He takes his hands off my skin and steps back, forcing me to spin in my chair to make sure he’s still here, paying attention.
“Yeah, ours. Like, I could become a junior partner at first. Or just an employee, but where I get to work with the animals. I got mad at you, because you wouldn’t play the game I started. And now I’m dragging that frustration everywhere I go. To work. Home. Into my drinking habits.”
I press my hands to my face and groan. “After dinner last night, I got drunk.” Lifting my head, I meet my boss’ eyes. “I got big drunk. The kind of drunk where I chugged red wine and hoped it wouldn’t kill me overnight.”
“How drunk?” He lowers to a crouch. “How drunk were you last night, Tabitha?”
“Ugh, Tabitha. Like I’m in trouble.” I let my eyes roll to the ceiling. A mistake, because it makes my brain ache. “I’m still being inappropriate,” I grumble. “Right now, discussing this with my boss.”
“I insist,” he counters smoothly. “I want to hear about your night.”
Well, I sure as shit ain’t going to tell him about my dreams.
“I got drunk, I called my boyfriend, got a few things off my chest. And now…”
Beckett’s eyes narrow to dangerous slits. “And now what?”
“Now, I guess my brain is clearer. Despite this headache.” I press two fingers to my temple and whimper. “Once I rehydrate my body, I plan to get back to work. I will do the job I was hired to do, I’ll stop whining. And one day, I’ll accept my fate as your assistant.”
I reach out and place my hand on Beckett’s, and the moment we touch, his eyes move to where we’re joined. “I like my job, Beckett. I really do. It’s just not what I envisioned for myself. But that was never your problem.”
His eyes slowly rise to meet mine.
“It’s my problem,” I murmur. “And I promise to stop letting it interfere with Lakeside.”
“Are you planning to leave?” he demands quietly, seriously. “Is that what this is?”
“No.” I lift my hand away from his and reach forward to fix the tie he wears. There’s nothing wrong with it, but I want to touch. My fingers itch to make contact. And the tie is the best excuse I’m going to find today. “I won’t promise forever, since I can’t know the future. And who freakin’ knows what’s going to happen with me and Mark. But—”
“What do you mean with you and Mark?”
“I mean…” I draw a deep breath, only to release it and feel mildly guilty when hot air feathers the top of Beckett’s hair. “Mark and I are in a committed relationship. He’s all I’ve known for a long time, and I’ll admit, I was worried. I had genuine concerns about the longevity of what we have.”
“You did?”
“Well, yeah. He’s still not here, and he promised he would be. He’s been distant lately, which isn’t helping. And I’ve been snappy and mean, which definitely doesn’t help. But—”
“But what?”
“Well…” Warmth floods my cheeks and makes me glance down. “We talked last night.” I touched myself! “For the first time in a long time, we talked for more than a minute. And it was nice. We reconnected.”
“You reconnected?” Beckett growls. “When?”
“Last night,” I repeat. “After you and I had
dinner.”
“Oh?” He pushes to stand and makes me stretch my neck back to keep him in sight. “Last night after dinner. Like, late?”
“Uh… no. About an hour after I was done talking to you.” My stomach dips. “Ya know what? This is still inappropriate. All I wanted to say was I’m sorry. And please bring me water.”
“Water?” Stunned by my request, Beckett’s scowl makes way for a small smile. “You want water?”
“I’m begging you.” Turning back to my desk, I let my head drop down with a thud. But I pry my eyes open and go back to scanning the internet. “I’m booking this stuff for you. I’ll email it all over when I’m done.”
“The auction? You’re doing that now?”
“Uh huh. I just booked your room. I was gonna look into—”
“Two rooms.” Beckett spins my chair and catches me before I fall to the floor, a flaccid piece of meat. We will not think of dicks right now. We absolutely will not. “Please.”
“Two rooms?” I think of the Meadow Hill’s B&B. “Huh?”
“You’ll need a room too, silly. Don’t forget.”
“Me?” I squeak. My voice actually fucking squeaks.
“Of course. You’re my assistant. I need you there to assist me.”
“I can’t— I’m not— I won’t…” I shake my head to try to clear away the fog slowing my thoughts. “You want me to travel too?”
Beckett’s brows wrinkle closer. “It’s not a social want, Tabby. It’s work. And you told me not two minutes ago that you’re gonna grow to accept this job.”
“Well, yeah, but it’s… two nights?”
“It’s in your contract.” Flashing a wide grin, Beckett steps to the doorway and places his hand on the frame. “I’ll get your water, since you look like you’re about to puke. But once you’re awake, get us organized. This is an important trip for Lakeside.”
“But…” I look around at my office, then the empty waiting room. “With us both gone, who will run the practice?”
He throws a hand in the air. “Even if you stayed, there would be no vet here to see our clients. There’s a reason we cleared my calendar for those two days.”
“But I’m a vet!” I shove up to my feet, only to snap my mouth closed and swallow down last night’s burger. Bad idea. Terrible idea. I drop back to my chair and hold my head. “Ignore that.”
Beckett steps in close and kneels down to catch my lowered gaze. “Did you think you would run my practice behind my back, Tabitha?”
“No.” I press the tips of my fingers to my temples and squeeze my eyes closed. “That was leftover resentment from yesterday. I missed a bit, but now it’s out.”
“Uh huh.” Rising, he turns toward the doorway and taps the frame on his way out. “Book the second room, Tabitha. Then pack your bags.”
13
Beckett
Road Trip
She doesn’t remember. She doesn’t fucking remember!
I grip the steering wheel of my truck and clamp my lips shut as the highway stretches out ahead of us, three days after our phone call.
That phone call.
We’re only an hour into our five-hour road trip, and for every one of those sixty minutes, Tabby has been on the phone while I drive. Naturally, as my assistant, it’s good that she’s organizing things; she’s liaising with the auction house, speaking with transport companies on the off-chance we buy something we need, she’s speaking to Abby, since I guess they’re pals now, and for ten minutes, there was the whispered discussion she had with her sister.
None of those conversations bothered me. In fact, whiling away my time listening to her has been entertaining as hell—just as it’s been fun to watch her work since she shed the hangover from hell and tried so hard not to look sideways at me while I was around.
But not now.
No fucking way.
“You’re so funny.” She giggles in her seat, holds the phone to her ear, and smiles the whole way along the I-fucking-90. “Mark! No, I can’t say that out loud. My boss is right here.”
“Don’t mind me,” I growl low enough that she can hear, but Mark is unlikely to.
Surprised, Tabby glances to her left and watches me for a moment. “No,” she says into her phone. “My boss. Yeah.” She glances at the watch on her wrist. “We’ve still got a bit to go. We left a little over an hour ago.”
“Oh look, the world’s largest prawn.” I point toward nothing.
Frowning, Tabby glances in the direction I point, then back to me when she finds nothing. “Two nights,” she tells Mark slowly. “Yeah.”
“The world’s longest piece of yarn!” I point again and fake a big fat fucking smile. “How awesome is that?”
“He’s… strange sometimes,” Tabby murmurs for Mark. For Mark!
“Ohhhh, the deepest bowl of guacamole,” I exclaim. “We’ll get that for lunch.”
“Listen, Mark. I’ve gotta go,” Tabby huffs. “I have to work. Yeah.” She pauses for a moment. “I’ll see you in a few days. I… uh… I love you too. Bye.”
My stomach aches when she says those words. When she lowers her voice and tries for privacy with her man inside my truck.
When she hangs up and tucks her cell between her legs, she turns to me with wide eyes and lifted brows. “What?”
“Hm?” I loosen my grip on the wheel and let my tension fly out the window. “Nice day, huh?”
“It’s overcast and cold. The day is terrible.” She lifts one leg and turns on her seat so she’s facing me. “What was that?”
“What was what? Oh, a cow. Did you see that?” In my defense, there really was a cow back there. I hope her owner finds her before the front of a Mac truck does. “Why the long face?”
“Why the childish attention-seeking?” she counters. “There were no prawns, no yarn, and no nachos while I was on the phone to the auction house.”
“It was guacamole, silly. Not nachos. And it’s not my fault we passed those things in such a brief span of time.”
“And the interruptions? Nothing to do with me taking a private call on work time?”
She thinks I’m a dragon boss who demands she account for her every second on the clock. In reality, I just don’t want to hear her giggling with the boyfriend she ‘reconnected’ with.
That was me!
She didn’t reconnect with him that night. The phone call was with me! And that motherfucker is reaping the benefits.
So why didn’t you tell her, Rosa? Huh?
Fucking pussy.
“I don’t mind you taking calls,” I answer instead. “But faking a chat with a non-existent boyfriend, all to convince me he was real all along…” I meet her eyes. “A little much, don’t you think?”
“Har-har. Now remind me again why I’m here with you?” She glances around the inside of my truck.
She’s wearing tight jeans, not quite blue, and not black. They’re more of a gray and almost match her eyes. Add in her cute little Converse low-tops, and she shows off enough ankle to enrage a duke from two hundred years ago. Her top is floaty and loose, her hair, dangling and held back by the sunglasses perched on top of her head. She looks absolutely nothing like the women I typically drive around.
But then again, I’m wearing jeans too. A shirt. Boots, instead of black leather dress shoes. Not a tie in sight. I didn’t even shave this morning!
“Rosa?”
“Yeah?” I run a hand through windswept hair and try not to overthink the weird things my heart does these days. I don’t get attached, and yet, I want her to see me. I have a type, and yet, this woman ain’t it!
“Why am I here?” she presses. “Did Martha travel with you to these things?”
Absolutely not. “Of course. Martha always traveled with me. Her job, which is now your job, was to make sure everything goes smoothly.”
“Everything like what?” she huffs. “Am I in charge of your eating schedule and picking which tie you’re to wear on any given day?”
“Amongst many things. Ties, meals, coordination of purchases, money transfers. If people give me their business cards—and they will,” I add. “They always do. Your job is to collate and hold onto them till we’re home. Some will be worth exploring. Many will go into the trash. But it’s your job to decide which is which.”
“And none of this could be done remotely?” she challenges, frustrated. “Breakfast bookings, auctioneer negotiations, accommodation; tell me how I couldn’t do all this on the phone?”
“You can’t pick my ties unless you’re here.”
“Video call!” she snaps. “What the hell is going on, Beckett?”
I want to be with you!
I shout it in my head. I scream it till my brain aches. And with my eyes, I stare into hers and tell her what I don’t say out loud.
I can’t do it. Not yet. Not till I understand it myself.
“This is your job, Tabitha. I don’t know why you’re turning it into such a big deal.”
“My boyfriend will be in town on Saturday.” Lifting her chin, she fakes a small grin and studies the road ahead of us. “I could be at home right now, still coordinating your shit, but doing my laundry and tidying my apartment at the same time. Now, we won’t get back until Saturday afternoon.”
“Ugh.” Her boyfriend is coming. My worst fucking nightmare. “He committed, huh? He’s finally coming?”
“Well… yeah.” She glances down and studies the black screen of her phone. “He always said he would. And now he is.”
“But you weren’t sure.” I try to catch her gaze, mindful of the traffic cruising in front of us. “You said he wasn’t committing.”
“I said he was busy tying up loose ends. But he’s done now.” She studies everything on the outside of the truck. Cars. Signposts. Billboards that do not mention the world’s biggest anything. Everything but me. “He’ll be here on Saturday.”
“And that’s why you’re pouting about this trip. Aww.” My tone implies teasing, but in my gut, my intestines are in knots. “You wanna be home shaving your legs.”