“It’s not all for FreeWater. Likes are up by four percent,” Daisy muttered. That didn’t sound like much, but four percent of her eleven million followers—not all of who commented or liked—meant over a hundred-thousand-like increase. The execs at KPaka were sure to take notice. Daisy pulled into Vivian’s driveway.
Vivian put her hand on the handle. “What are you doing for the rest of the day?”
“I—” Daisy had planned to go home and answer the emails from fans the management service forwarded to her account for personalized responses, but she didn’t think she could look Beckett in his handsome face right now. “I’m headed over to the vet clinic. They have new puppies.” Being surrounded by eight fuzzy balls of adorableness was exactly the pick-me-up she needed.
“Okay.” Vivian exited the vehicle. “Listen.” She hefted her camera bag over her shoulder. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s just a passing through—his opinion doesn’t matter.”
Daisy slapped on a smile. “Thanks! And thanks for having my back.”
“Always.” Vivian waved before heading up the front walkway.
Vivian said Beckett’s opinion didn’t matter, and in the grand scheme of things, it probably didn’t. He couldn’t make or break her channel. In fact, in a few short weeks he’d be out of the country, out of her house, and out of her life once again. What he said shouldn’t matter. Except that it had. His words had pierced not only her pride, but her heart.
Daisy sighed. Telling someone to ignore a rude comment is advice easily given and hard to follow. Especially because Daisy had always looked up to Beckett. He was the hand that reached down to help her climb into the tree house and the boost she needed to get over a fence.
Beckett’s opinion didn’t matter to the rest of the world, but it mattered to her.
Daisy went through a drive-thru and ordered sandwiches for her and Quinton. Beckett could fend for himself at the house. It was three in the afternoon, but Quin hardly remembered to eat when he worked. Her brother couldn’t stand the idea that he made an animal in pain wait.
She made her way to the clinic, parked in the back, and entered through the employee entrance. The front office was usually crowded with dog owners holding tight to leashes and cat owners protectively covering carriers—the tension was palpable.
Once inside the building, she adjusted the takeout bag and turned right to enter the kennel room. Several cages in different sizes lined the walls. In the center of the room was a counter where Quinton could examine patients. The walls were eggshell white and the countertop was too, while the cabinets underneath were black with silver knobs. The whole area was as clean as any room with several animals can be with the sharp smell of cleaner in the air. In the largest kennel was a litter of brown and black puppies.
A Good Samaritan had found the pups in his abandoned woodshed. The mother was found first, her back end broken and her eyes glassed over. She’d probably been hit by a car and struggled to make it back to her litter. She’d survived transport to the clinic, but had died shortly thereafter. Quinton’s staff cared for the puppies round the clock. They were five weeks old and most had been adopted—the owners eagerly anticipating the date they could bring their new family member home.
Daisy checked the feeding schedule and found that they were due for a round of formula. Judging by the yapping and yowling from up front, the staff had their hands full. Daisy mixed a batch of formula and poured it into several feeding bowls. When the clinic first opened, she’d spent Fridays and Saturdays helping Quin with basics like cleaning and organizing and caring for animals after surgery.
The puppies spilled out of the open door, their tails wagging so fast they knocked themselves over. She laughed at their antics. “There’s plenty for everyone.” She nudged the chubby puppy to the side to make room for his sister. She pointed a finger at him. “Share.” He ignored her, lapping up the formula and slobbering all over the floor.
“What’s going on in here?” Quinton yanked off his plastic gloves with a snap. “I was just about to feed the circus.”
Daisy smiled down at the puppies. “That’s what I’m here for.” She handed Quinton a takeout bag. “For the ringmaster.”
He chuckled. “I feel like a ringmaster today. Thanks.” He washed his hands before opening the sandwich.
One of the puppies lost interest in the formula. Daisy picked him up, wiped his little face and hands with a cloth out of the drawer, and snuggled him close. He relaxed right into her, enjoying the comfort. His warmth and soft, clean fur soothed her troubled mind. Beckett’s comments didn’t sit right and she struggled to accept that someone she admired had put her down.
Quinton swallowed his huge bite. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She set the puppy in the kennel. He whined for a moment before finding a chew toy. “Just a long day.”
“How’d Beckett do?”
She rolled her eyes and bit her tongue.
“That good, huh?”
“He’s …” She searched for the right word. “Stuck-up.”
Quinton laughed. “The dude doesn’t own socks.”
Daisy shook her head. “Not that kind of snobby—more like he thinks the things he cares about are the only important things.” She scrunched up her nose. “It’s not like he’s responsible for every well in South America.”
Quinton watched her cautiously. “He might be …”
“Pft.” Daisy flipped her hair over her shoulder. “And he acts like being good-looking is a crime.”
“With you, it is.”
Daisy gave him a disbelieving look.
“Seriously, I hate worrying about you when we go out. The way some guys look at you.” His jaw went hard. “My life as a big brother would be so much easier if you weren’t so darn beautiful.”
She shook her head as she picked up another puppy who had finished. “It’s my business.”
Quinton opened the bag of chips that came with the sandwich. He preferred the deep-fried, greasy kind, but Daisy had selected baked since they were better for him. “I know, you can’t help being beautiful anymore. This is your everyday look.”
She swallowed a smirk at hearing her brother use the phrase everyday look.
“But just because you don’t pay attention to all that doesn’t mean guys don’t.” He paused, gulped, and then said with an unusually forced casualness, “And it doesn’t mean Beckett hasn’t noticed.”
“Now I know you’re feeding me lines. Just today, he said he was shocked my channel had any success.”
Quinton wiped his fingertips as he considered her comment. “Are you sure he didn’t say he was amazed by the success of your channel?”
“I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean it as a compliment.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s not sure what to think of you.” Quinton suddenly became extremely interested in what was in his sandwich. “If you want, I’ll ask him to move out.”
“What? No. Why would you make him leave?”
“Call it an older brother instinct. You always had stars in your eyes when it came to Beckett. He’s not a teenager anymore, and you don’t look like a little sister anymore.”
Three puppies finished at the same time. Two began to wrestle while the third watched them like they were idiots. Daisy scooped up the observer. Quinton’s advice or opinions or whatever you wanted to call them slathered over her like cheap lotion. “So what? There’s more to me than my channel, and if that’s all he sees, then I don’t want him.”
“I don’t think it’s your channel that makes him drop things when you walk into the room.”
“Beckett Kingsley is not into me,” Daisy insisted. “And even if he were, he’s not interested in a real relationship.”
“And you are?”
“Aren’t you?” she countered.
Quinton opened his mouth and closed it again as if he’d thought better about what he was about to say. Daisy continued to clean the puppies and place them back in their kennel. She snuggled
each one close and scratched behind its ears. Each one had a different personality, which made them all the more loveable.
Quin finally spoke, though his tone was reflective. “I wasn’t looking for something serious. I had school and then wanted to get this place off the ground. But I’ve had my eye on someone.” The tips of his ears turned scarlet.
“Really?” Daisy found a puppy toy and dangled it in front of the last pup’s nose. He jumped at it with both paws.
“Yeah. She doesn’t know I exist.”
“Aww, Quin. You should ask her out.”
He scrunched up the takeout bag. “It’s complicated.”
Daisy shrugged. “Isn’t it always? I mean, does love come easy to anyone?”
“Mom and Dad make it look effortless.”
“Mom and Dad have had thirty-two years of practice.”
“True,” he conceded.
Tayla, a vet tech with a long, blonde ponytail and covered in freckles, poked her head into the recovery room. “Your next appointment is in room five.”
“I’ll be right there.” Quinton threw his garbage away, and Tayla waved before ducking back out of the room. “Thanks for lunch.”
“Anytime. I’m going to stick around for a while, maybe I’ll take one of these guys for a walk.” Daisy found the cleaning supplies and mopped up the mess the puppies made on the floor.
Quinton paused at the door. “I haven’t seen you this upset in a long time.”
She lifted her eyebrows, not sure what to say or where he was going with this.
“I’m just saying that you might care more about Beckett than you profess.”
“I—” she started to protest.
“You don’t have to be honest with him about it—or even me—but you should be honest with yourself.” He practically ran out of the room after firing off his advice like a cannon.
Daisy thought about her deep response to Beckett’s negative comments. There were several internet trolls who made it a point to tear apart each and every one of her episodes, and their comments—which were mean-spirited and personal—never stung like Beckett’s, and she hadn’t even heard it firsthand. Vivian was more protective than a mama raccoon, but she never made up drama. Beckett must have said something to tip her off.
Daisy took a leash off the hook and chose the most energetic puppy to go for a walk. She needed to get outside and get out of her head.
The temperatures were pleasant, the few cars on the road weren’t in a hurry, and the puppy was thrilled to be outside running from a rock to the edge of the sidewalk and then to a tree where he sniffed appreciatively. Daisy took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her cheeks. Quiet moments were few and far between and she needed this. Her thoughts circled like a puppy chasing his tail. In the middle of them all was Beckett.
Quinton’s suggestion that Beckett was into her didn’t jive with Vivian’s recount of their conversation. The problem was that she had no idea which Beckett was sleeping on her couch. Was he the self-righteous jerk who looked down his nose at her channel, or was he the sweet guy from her past?
Determined to be honest with herself, she pondered which Beckett she wanted him to be.
That question wasn’t any easier to answer. If Beckett was the jerk, then saying goodbye in a couple weeks would be easy. If he was the sweetheart, then she didn’t want him to leave, because she was looking for a serious relationship and he was serious boyfriend material as far as his personal values. A relationship with someone who lived out of the country wasn’t going to be easy, and she wondered if it would even be worth it to try. She didn’t want to spend her life waiting around for him to come home.
That is … if he was interested in her, or dating, or a family or any of that stuff. She massaged her forehead. All this stress from Quinton’s one comment.
Without any answers, and feeling all that much more frustrated, Daisy finished a loop around the park and returned the pup to his family. He fell asleep in the corner, his muzzle resting on his front paws. She doubted she would sleep as well tonight knowing Beckett was in the other room.
Chapter Twelve
“Beckett?!”
Beckett rolled off the couch and was on his feet before he was fully awake. Daisy’s frantic cry had reached into his dreams and triggered his protective instincts. He snagged the closest weapon he could find—his phone—before the adrenaline coursing through his body propelled him down the hallway.
He fell through her door, barely catching himself on the doorframe. “What?” He scanned the room for danger. The bed was perfectly made, the seafoam-green vase was in place, and the door to the walk-in closet was shut. The only thing out of order was Daisy. She bounced up and down, her hair floating off her back in stunning red waves.
“We raised all $5000!” She punched his shoulder. “Take that, doubting Thomas. Ha!” She threw her hands over her head and sang “We Are the Champions.”
She had on a pair of raspberry-colored yoga pants and a tight white T-shirt. He ran his hand down his face to stop himself from staring at the way her body moved with happiness. “All of it?”
“And then some!” She put her arms out to the side and shook her booty. “I posted the episode less than an hour ago and the donations poured in—they’re still coming, too. We might double or even triple what we asked for.”
He grabbed her arms and made her hold still. Her dancing was putting all sorts of ideas in his head and he wanted to focus on what she was saying. She stopped suddenly, swiping an errant strand of hair away from her lips. Her chest heaved up and down, and he wasn’t sure if it was the dancing or him that stole her breath away. He hoped it was him.
“That’s amazing.” He grinned.
She pressed her lips together and brushed his hands away. “Not bad for a channel that talks about lipstick and hair tips, eh?”
Though it sounded like she was joking with him, there was a sharpness in her eyes, a challenge. And her brush-off was borderline angry. All at once, his conversation with Vivian came to mind. Although Daisy was nowhere around when he’d made that offhanded comment, Vivian could have told Daisy what he’d said. That was … bad. “I—” His phone blew up with “Hail to the Chief.” Knowing it was his boss, he yanked the phone to his ear. “Hey.”
Daisy blew her hair off her forehead as if she were upset at him for taking the call. Hopefully that was all it was. He wasn’t sure how to explain his attitude yesterday. He was still kind of bugged that something like buying the right T-shirt got more attention than starving children, so it wasn’t like he could claim he didn’t mean it.
Daisy leaned over the chair at her desk and scrolled through the comments section on her channel—ignoring him so he could continue the call.
“I just saw the post—the comments are amazing. Our website is going nuts. People want to volunteer and they want to donate big money—bigger than Daisy’s fund.”
“How did you see it so fast? It only went up forty minutes ago.” He’d stolen Daisy’s info on the timeline, which made him sound smarter than he actually was.
“I subscribed to her channel. She’s amazing—so positive and fun. I could totally be her best friend.”
Daisy pushed off from the desk and whispered, “Is that Kelly?”
Beckett nodded.
Before he knew what she’d done, Daisy had his phone cradled between her shoulder and cheek. He wondered if it would smell as wonderful as she did when he got it back.
“Hi, Kelly—it’s Daisy.”
“Daisy! Thank you so much for the lip balms. My lips have never been so soft.”
Beckett noted his in-call volume made it possible for him to hear every word of the conversation. He’d need to adjust that.
“You are so welcome. Thank you for working so hard to set up the secure account for our fundraising. You were so fast—it made the whole experience seamless.”
Beckett knew better than that. From what Vivian said, Daisy almost killed herself to put th
is together in such a short amount of time. Yet here she was, praising Kelly for her small part. He paused, noting the way his chest warmed at seeing Daisy’s innate kindness.
“The pleasure was all mine,” replied Kelly. “I have a question for you, though.”
“Shoot.”
“How do you do that ’60s swoopy eyeliner thing?”
Beckett couldn’t believe his no-nonsense boss was asking for makeup tips. Daisy was some kind of wizard casting spells over the people around her. Mr. Hayes, from RB’s, hadn’t been too happy with her at first, but by the time they left the menswear store yesterday, he was her second-biggest fan. Second only to Kelly, apparently.
“I’ll send you a link to my tutorial. Do yourself a favor and buy a liquid eyeliner.”
“I will. I’ve been using the Jamaican castor oil. My lashes are so thick and long I may have to trim them.” Kelly laughed. “I feel so pretty.”
Daisy’s smile split her face. “I’m glad it’s working, and you should feel pretty—you’re an amazing person and you do so much good.”
It didn’t escape Beckett’s attention that Daisy noted personal qualities as the reason for Kelly’s beauty and not her lashes or smooth lips. He’d never thought of Kelly as beautiful, nor had he thought of her as not attractive. He’d never thought of her that way at all. Did every woman want to feel pretty? Probably. The women in the small villages he visited would pierce themselves with bone and wear rustic jewelry. If Daisy made her viewers feel like she’d made Kelly feel, then the secret to her success was obvious.
He didn’t have a second to process his contemplations, because Daisy shoved his phone back into his hand. She put her hands on his shoulders and turned him to face the door. Then, she put her palms on his back, the heat from her touch burning right through his shirt, and propelled him out the door. She blew him a saucy kiss and shut the door in his face.
EveryDayLove!: A MyHeartChannel Romance Page 7