She harrumphed at him. “I’m trying to decide if we should leave your hair down or pull it back.”
“Pull it back,” said Vivian without looking up from the computer. “It ages him like fifteen years.”
“I think you’re right,” added Daisy.
Beckett balked. “Fifteen years?”
Daisy shrugged apologetically and handed him a hair elastic. Not one of the office supply elastics he usually wore, but a girl’s elastic. He eyed it warily while contemplating the fact that he could add that many years to his face just by using this little thing. What bothered him even more was that he cared. He never cared about his looks when he was in the field—and, truth be told, most of the time when he was in the office. It wasn’t that he didn’t brush his teeth or bathe. It was just that things like haircuts and shaving were low on the priority list when there were people who had to walk three hours to get drinking water. But sitting in Daisy’s pristine bedroom, looking at her glowing skin, pressed white button-up shirt, and all her composure—he wanted to look … nicer. Somehow, he felt like he wasn’t living up to his potential.
Is that how women felt when they watched her channel? Did she hold some kind of superiority over them because of her natural beauty? His stomach went sour and gurgled at the thought that he was going to turn these women against the men in their lives. Depending on what Daisy said in this video, women would be ripping apart well-loved and worn-in shirts and running up credit cards. This was going to be a disaster. “Daisy …?”
She was reading through a printout and making notes in the margins. She didn’t look up, but he noticed how her full lips pressed together slightly as she said, “Hmm?”
“What’s your angle?”
“We’ll talk right at the camera, but if you’re nervous you can talk to me.”
“What does he have to be nervous about?” asked Vivian. “All he has to do is sit there and look grungy.”
“I’m not nervous,” lied Beckett. “But I am worried that this will give women the wrong idea.”
This brought Daisy out of her preparation. Her bright eyes blinked with innocence. “What idea is that?”
Beckett stared into her deep chocolate pools, noting the way her brow wrinkled slightly. He was once again reminded of how untouched she was by the world at large. He wasn’t going to be the one to burst her bubble. And, she also had no idea what she could do to a man. His palms were moist just from staring into her eyes. “Never mind.”
“Okay, let’s run through the introduction once. I’d like to you smile and wave or even say hi—whatever feels natural. This isn’t live and we’ll edit, so don’t feel any pressure to perform.”
“Right.” He rubbed his hands down his pajama pants.
Vivian clicked away at the keyboard and then she nodded to Daisy. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Daisy checked herself in the monitor. She pulled equal sections of her luscious hair over each shoulder, brushed a piece away from her lips, and smiled. Beckett was so caught up in the whole process, noting the way she popped her lips, that he barely heard what she said.
“Hello, friends! It’s so good to be with you this morning. You may have noticed we have a visitor. This is Beck.”
She lifted a hand, indicating he should respond. His mind caught on the fact that she’d used his childhood nickname in front of eleven million people. He stuttered out, “H-hello.”
She smiled warmly at him, causing his heart to double in beats per minute.
Daisy wasn’t in a hurry. There was no commercial break to get to or anything. She just talked like she was talking to her friend who happened to live inside a tiny camera on her desk.
“Beck is a hero. He’s not the type that fights supervillains—although he probably could do that too.” She squeezed his bicep and giggled.
A zing went through Beckett’s arm and across his chest like lightning, making him jump.
Daisy didn’t notice, or if she did, she didn’t pay attention to his jumpiness. “Beck works for FreeWater—a worldwide organization that works to provide clean drinking water to small villages. He travels all over the world digging wells and irrigation ditches to improve the quality of life of hundreds of people, mostly women and children, each year.”
She turned to him. “Beck, what was your favorite assignment?”
Beckett sucked in his bottom lip while he contemplated his answer. “I’d have to say working in the jungle village of Santarém.”
“Why?”
“The Santarém people are recovering from a territorial war. The ratio of women to men is 4 to 1 and there are twice as many children. The women had to walk seven miles to get fresh water. They did this with toddlers and babies strapped to their backs and, because of the additional weight, were only able to carry enough water for one day. You should have seen their feet. They were tough but also sore and sometimes misshapen because they’d been broken and healed incorrectly.
“Giving them a fresh source of water, right in the middle of their village, freed them from that struggle. They spend their time gardening now, and can provide more food for their growing children without the heavy weight of wondering if they could continue carrying water every day.”
Daisy stared at him for a moment, her mouth parted slightly.
Beckett cleared his throat and scratched under his beard. He was awfully aware of Daisy’s mouth this morning—a fact that bothered him like an itchy tag in a new shirt.
“I want to help,” Daisy whispered. She turned towards him, revealing the truth of her words. Beckett put his hand on her knee and she brushed her leg against his.
Vivian cleared her throat. “We’re still rolling.”
Daisy blinked once and her eyes darted back to the camera. “I think we’d all like to help. So, I’m inviting you to click on the link at the bottom of the screen and donate to FreeWater today. If we all give up a morning latte or an afternoon soda and give that money to FreeWater, it will add up quickly. Isn’t that right?”
Beckett nodded. “Two dollars can pay a local worker and feed his family for several days.”
“Two dollars? Really?” Daisy’s eyebrows lifted.
“Really.” Beckett nodded.
Daisy nodded and sat up straighter. “Don’t worry, friends, there’s a little bit of fun thrown into this fundraiser.” Daisy made her hand look like it was talking.
“What was that?” Beckett interrupted.
Vivian answered. “Every time Daisy makes a bad joke, we add in a wah-wah sound. It’s a way to show that she doesn’t take herself too seriously.” She motioned for Daisy to continue.
“Check out this thermometer thingy on my right.” She pointed that direction.
Beckett glanced over, expecting to see something.
“Made you look,” Daisy teased. “It’s on-screen.”
Sure enough, there was a hot-pink thermometer running up the side of the screen.
“You’ll notice there’s a mark at one thousand dollars. When we raise a thousand dollars, I’ll take Beckett shopping and buy him a new shirt. Of course, this trip wouldn’t be complete without my friends, so you’re coming along. We’ll go over how to buy a shirt for a guy and get the right fit.” She plucked at Beckett’s shirt. “When a man’s got this much going on, we should accentuate it—right?”
Vivian played a loud wolf whistle. Beckett glared at her. She and Daisy laughed at his scowl.
“At twenty-five hundred dollars, we’ll get him a new wardrobe. At four thousand, his beard gets a trim.” She cupped one hand around her mouth, her fingers slightly splayed. “Or we’ll have him take it all off.” She winked suggestively. “And at five thousand dollars, the man bun goes bye-bye.” She waved at the camera and didn’t say anything.
After a brief pause, Beckett asked, “Am I done?”
Daisy shook her head, making her red hair bounce against her arms. “Noooo.” She reached for a small bowl of cream. “We still need to share a beauty tip for today.” She squ
eezed out two cotton balls while she talked about the benefits of cream for puffy eyes.
Beckett leaned closer to examine her eyes. They looked perfect. Bright. Luminescent even. “You don’t need those,” he scoffed after her explanation.
“Not this morning. But you do.” She moved to place the cotton on his face.
He leaned as far away as he could get while keeping his butt in the chair. “Are you crazy?”
“Beck! Hold still.”
She’d used his nickname again. He liked it even more this time. That didn’t mean he was going to let her put things on his face. He grabbed her wrists. “I don’t think so, buttercup.” She wasn’t the only one who could use old nicknames to their advantage.
She cocked her head to the side. “It takes ten minutes.”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“It’s going to work.”
“But—”
“Stop being such a baby.” She pressed forward, but he easily kept her at bay. When she was putting all her effort into it, he released his grip on her hands and caught her as she fell into his chest. “Oof! Beck!” She struggled against him as he held her close. “You’re such a brat.”
He laughed. “Do you give?”
She growled—actually growled, which did some funny things to his body temperature. His hands went hot and his throat went dry. His reaction was so strong that it caused him to release his grip.
Daisy’s cheek hit his shoulder before she caught herself. “Ouch.”
“Sorry.” He grabbed her up again, cradling her head in the crook of his arm as he ran his fingers across her cheekbone to check for swelling. The spot was slightly pink. “Sorry,” he said again.
“That’s quite all right,” she whispered. The spot of pink began to spread across her cheeks. Beckett watched, mesmerized by the change. Somewhere far away, an alarm sounded. Maybe it was in his head, telling him that holding Daisy like this wasn’t a good idea. There were lines a man shouldn’t cross with his best friend’s little sister. He’d blown right over them and his brain was sending a constant buzz-buzz to tell him to stop. In one swift move, he had Daisy back in her seat and his arms back to his sides and everything was back to normal. Except that nothing was normal inside of him. His heart pounded erratically and there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. And that alarm still buzz-buzzed in his head.
Vivian sighed heavily. “We’ll have to edit Quinton’s alarm out. I thought you told him to turn it down.”
Beckett tugged his ear, realizing that the buzz came from behind Quinton’s closed door. It didn’t matter where the alarm sounded; the important thing was that he had listened to it and put space between him and Daisy before Quinton caught them together.
Not that they were together in a bad way.
Not that there was a bad way to be together.
He and Daisy could date, hug, and kiss. It was more like they shouldn’t be together—for Quinton’s sake.
Daisy dropped the cotton balls back into the cream. Her leg brushed his under the computer desk. He didn’t dare look at her to see if she’d initiated the contact on purpose or if it had been an accident. Her pink cheeks had about done him in a few seconds ago. No sense eyeing up the temptation. In fact … “Here.” He grabbed the cotton balls, pressed out the excess cream, and plopped them over his closed eyelids. “Is this what you wanted?”
“Yeah,” she croaked. “I mean, yes, that’s right.”
He felt pressure on the cotton balls as she adjusted them. Her hand ran down the side of his face. His eyes rolled up in his head with the pleasure of her touch.
“You had a drip.”
“Thanks.” Thank goodness for the cotton balls.
Daisy did a quick summary for the audience. He could feel her move away when she went to the other side of the desk to watch video with Vivian. The longer he sat there, the more he felt like an idiot. Not necessarily for sitting there with cotton balls on his face, but for falling all over himself because Daisy bumped his shoulder. They’d been through bigger clashes than that as kids. Daisy was tough. She’d scrape half her knee off, push her bike back up, and chase after him and Quinton. He never used to worry over her like he had moments before. She probably thought he was acting weird.
A timer dinged and Daisy was beside him again. He could smell her deep, feminine smell. There were all sorts of scents mixed up in there. Coconut. Some sort of flower. Cinnamon … no, cloves. And more he couldn’t identify.
She explained that the ten-minute wait time was over and pulled the cotton balls off his eyes. He blinked several times. Before he could wipe or rub his eyes, she brushed a warm, wet cloth over them and then repeated the process with a dry cloth. Her ministrations were butterfly-wing soft and he found himself softening under her touch. It was like all the horrible moments in his life were on one end of a scale and this moment was on the other, and this was stronger, heavy enough to fill him with contentment. He could have sat there all day long, breathing Daisy’s perfume and experiencing his personal nirvana.
“… you can see that besides reducing the dark circles under his eyes, the cream has had a calming effect.” Daisy’s voice floated into his consciousness. He smiled without opening his eyes.
“I’ve got a tranquilizer that’ll do the same,” said Quinton from the doorway.
Beckett’s eyes flew open and he jumped out of his seat. The chair tipped and he held onto the back of it to keep it from crashing to the floor. “Thanks for everything, Daisy. I’m going to head out with Quinton and, you know, build something.”
Daisy twirled a section of hair around her finger. “O-kay. You have fun building things.”
Beckett squinted, checking her cheek to make sure there was no evidence of their earlier contact. Her skin was as clear and beautiful as ever. So soft and velvety-looking …
“Dude?” Quinton snapped his fingers in front of Beckett’s face.
“Sorry—Something in my eye.” He ducked into the hallway, pretending to work something out of the corner of his eye.
Quinton followed, shutting Daisy’s door behind him. When he caught Beckett watching, he lifted his eyebrows as if to say, You want to go back in there? You’d better think twice about that. Which made Beckett think twice about Daisy, right before he thought about her a third time, and he hadn’t even made it to the kitchen.
Just as they were about to turn the corner, Daisy’s door burst open. “Beckett?”
He spun around, his arms feeling like they could float away from his body at the sound of her voice. “Yeah?”
Daisy hung halfway out the door, her hair swinging free and her eyes glinting. “Can we go shopping tomorrow, or will you still be building stuff?”
He moved his focus to the doorframe just above Daisy’s head. “I can cut out for a few hours.”
“Great. I’ll text you.” She disappeared and the door shut softly with a click.
He exhaled.
Quinton clapped him on the back. Hard. “I don’t envy you shopping with those two.”
Beckett arched against the sting. “I think I can handle it.”
Quinton narrowed his eyes. “We’ll see.”
Beckett did his best not to think about Daisy for the rest of the day. He made huge efforts to concentrate on the project at hand, throwing himself into the work of digging fencepost holes around the backyard of Quinton’s clinic so that, when he got home, he fell into bed exhausted.
Chapter Eight
Daisy shook hands with the district manager of RB’s Atrium and smiled to hide the bag of crazy nerves threatening to split open inside of her.
Vivian wandered around the store, taking video that they may or may not splice in later. Beckett hovered close by, snorting every time he looked at a price tag. The high-end department store may seem expensive on the tag, but she’d done her research. The items here would last a lot longer than the cheap articles that came seven to a bag.
“Beckett, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Hayes.”<
br />
Beckett swaggered over in his homeless attire and looked way down his nose at Mr. Hayes in his black suit and bright blue button-up. “Hey.”
Daisy leaned close so that her arm could reach behind him without Mr. Hayes noticing. She pinched Beckett’s back as a reminder to play nice. He didn’t flinch, but his eyes flicked her direction.
“Mr. Hayes has just informed me that RB’s is going to match subscriber’s donations all the way up to the $5000.” Daisy pinched him again.
He looked at her for a moment, as if he were sizing her up, before saying, “That’s really great.”
“We’ve got a nice spot all set up for you to film.” Mr. Hayes put his hand on Daisy’s back and propelled her across the floor and directly in front of the store logo. There were two chairs set up, interview style, and several dummies dressed to the nines in the wings.
“This is nice, but it’s not what we had in mind.” Daisy smiled politely. The decision to film on location, to change her format, was a calculated risk. Daisy wanted to stick to the formula they used every week so her viewers would feel comfortable with the segment. Of course, they’d have to zoom out to get some full-body shots of Beckett. That would be fun. In fact, seeing Beckett dressed in clothing that actually fit was the only part of this experience she looked forward to. Even now his cargo shorts hung low on his hips like a gunslinger’s holster.
After her comment, Mr. Hayes didn’t appear all that happy with her. She took a deep breath, summoning the calmness of her gray bedroom walls and white comforter. She pictured herself in the middle of the bed, legs crossed, and the essential oil diffuser pumping lavender into the air. The process didn’t take long. In one deep breath, she was ready to face the snarling beasts.
“Mr. Hayes, thank you so much for considering our needs. I can tell that you’ve put a lot of thought into this. I’m going to make a few adjustments to bring the setup in line with our regular format.”
“Oh no,” he interrupted. “I was given specific instruction from the head office. If you don’t film here, you can’t film in the store.”
Daisy’s lips tightened. She really hated filming on-site. Hated dealing with all this junk. She hooked her arm through Mr. Hayes’s. “I’m so sorry they put you in this position, Mr. Hayes. I have a contract that states I can film anywhere in the showroom as long as I list RB’s as a sponsor for the episode. You’re welcome to verify this with your boss, or I’d be happy to show you the contract.” She reached into her purse for the printout she’d thrown in at the last minute. “Really, I’m not trying to play hardball with you, and I think it’s quite unfair for you to have to deal with this when there was so clearly a miscommunication. I’m going to assume wires were crossed somewhere along the way and move forward.” She smiled brightly, knowing it would throw him off if she were perky. He was probably a pro at handling disgruntled customers, but a smiling, insistent woman who rolled right over his firm hand was a problem.
EveryDayLove!: A MyHeartChannel Romance Page 5