“Here, let me scoot out and I’ll walk you to the ladies’.” Trent began to stand.
“She looks perfect. She doesn’t need to leave.” Beckett braced his hand on the back of his seat, ready to get up if necessary.
“Why don’t you let her decide what she needs?” countered Trent.
“Why don’t you keep your hands to yourself—you’re all over her.”
“I’m all over her? You’re smothering her.”
“Excuse me.” Daisy jumped to her feet.
Beckett hadn’t realized he had stood up. Right now, he towered over Trent. The only thing keeping him from bumping chests with the guy and knocking him over was the chair between them.
The whole club had gone quiet. Beckett glanced at the stage to see Mimevizzion pressing both hands to his cheeks, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide as he watched the two of them. Their argument had hijacked the show.
“I’m going to have to ask your group to leave,” said a balding man in a black vest and white button-up shirt. His tag said “manager.”
“No. It’s not them.” Daisy waved her hand towards the group. “I’ll go.”
“Me too,” Trent said quickly. He reached for Daisy’s arm to guide her out of the maze of too-close chairs and tables. This place was a fire code nightmare.
Beckett pushed Trent’s hand away. “You’re not taking her anywhere.”
A woman gasped, “Did you see that?”
“Beckett.” Daisy’s hand went to his shoulder. “It’s fine.”
He focused on Daisy. Her hair was still in place, her dress fabulous, but there were worry lines framing her mouth like tiny parentheses.
“I suggest the three of you take this outside.” The manager left no room for argument. Trent’s jaw hardened and he stomped off. Beckett motioned for Daisy to go first. She went, her head held high. He stuck right to her heels, not wanting to give Trent a moment alone with her in the lobby. As he walked, cell phones followed him and he realized that they’d been filmed.
His stomach soured. This was not good.
Chapter Sixteen
Daisy managed to get out of the club with her chin up. She hit the safety of the parking lot, where the only cameras on the premises were there to discourage breaking and entering, and her hands shook. She had no desire to show her face in the club again after tonight.
She spun around and whacked Beckett and then Trent with her purse. They both flinched. “What is the problem with you two?”
“I—”
“He—”
“Bzzz. Bzz. Bz.” She made a zipping motion with her hands and they cut off. Trent stuck his hands in his pockets and ducked his head. Beckett kept his arms out to his sides, his chest lifted.
“I’m not even sure what happened in there.” She rubbed her temple, trying to figure out what had set them off. The night was going fine. Trent was being his normal, fun self. They always sat by each other and they laughed—not the kind of laughing she did with Beckett where her sides hurt, but grown-up polite laughing. She eyed Trent. He was the type of guy she considered good boyfriend material. He had a steady job, didn’t let women pay for themselves on dates, opened doors, and held chairs. There should be more men like him in the world. But standing next to Beckett, he diminished. And that wasn’t just because Beckett was taller and wider. Beckett was just more … She rubbed her fingertips together, trying to come up with the right word … manly.
So much for taking her mind of Beckett tonight.
Her phone beeped. She looked down to see a text from Quinton flash across the screen.
Will you give Beck a ride home?
She threw her hands in the air. Both guys flinched again, probably thinking she was exasperated with them when she was really exasperated with herself for comparing Trent to Beckett in the first place. That was so not fair. And thanks to her brother, on top of ruining the fun, flirty thing she had with Trent, she had to give Beckett a ride home.
Whatever.
She stepped forward and kissed Trent on the cheek. “I’m going home. I’ll see you.” She turned away without saying anything else. As far as she was concerned, they would never speak of this again.
“Come on, Beckett, Quinton bailed on you. You’re riding with me,” she said without facing him. She made it all the way to her car without having to look his direction. Good thing, too, because she wasn’t at all happy that he’d gotten her kicked out of her favorite club. Trent honked once and waved as he drove away.
She reached for the door handle and suddenly Beckett was right behind her, his hand flat against the door to keep her from opening it.
“Hey.” She turned to face him, ready to let him have it for being a complete idiot. Her words evaporated before they completely formed inside her head. Beckett was right there. His large, callused hand rested on her arm, his body curved around hers, and Daisy leaned into him, drinking in his nearness. The parking lot shrank down to a circle that extended about a foot around them. The cool evening air grew thick with anticipation and expectations.
“What?” she whispered.
“You kissed Trent.” His blue eyes flashed with something dangerous.
“It was quick.” Daisy became acutely aware that her hands hung by her side. They could rest on his chest—he was that close. Or she could place them on his arms or even fold them.
“It looked like fun.” He leaned closer.
Overwhelmed by the strength of his undivided attention, Daisy went to step back, only to be caught by her car. She had nowhere to run. Not that she wanted to. What she really wanted was a moment to think this through. Kissing had consequences, and Beckett’s whole body told her he was going to kiss her.
Beckett shuffled and put one arm on the car. He smelled as good as ever, like spices and mint and soap and him. She remembered the soft, tickling feeling of his beard against her palm and wanted that same feeling against her cheek, her neck. Her knees went weak at the thought. Beckett curved an arm around her back, giving her support. He touched his forehead to hers, bringing her desire to feel his lips to a frenzy. There was only one way out of this.
She lifted on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. The mixture of desire and fulfillment and heat and exploded into the night like a mushroom cloud.
In less than a heartbeat, Beckett claimed her mouth and she was lost in the manifestation of long-buried crushes and recent revelations. His hands were at her neck, tipping her head as he blazed kisses across her jaw. Daisy gasped as the urgency to be closer spiked. She wrapped her arms around his head and pulled him closer, ever closer, as they kissed again and again.
They broke apart, both gasping and holding tight to one another.
Daisy had no words. She wasn’t even sure that was a good idea, but it had been a fantastic kiss. The best she’d ever had.
Beckett trailed a finger down her cheek. “I’ve wanted to do that since you were sixteen.”
Daisy bit her lip, noticing the slight swelling. “I would have hit you.” She took in a shaky breath as uncertainty crept into her thoughts. “I may hit you now.”
“You probably should—knock some sense into me.”
She moved her hands from behind his neck to rest on his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Beckett shook his head slowly—like he was trying to clear it. “Nothing about this makes sense. We’re so different.”
She pulled her hands all the way off of him. “Like chocolate and bacon.”
He relaxed his hold on her. “Ew.”
“Exactly.”
He fingered a loose strand of her hair. “But this was … astonishing.”
Daisy smiled softly. She was definitely astonished.
Chapter Seventeen
“What did he mean—astonishing?”
Daisy kicked her feet up on the coffee table so Jason could shoot Nerf bullets under her legs at a tower of plastic cups. Vivian knelt next to the tower, ready to rebuild it as necessary. Not that Jason couldn’t
build his own tower, but this way, he stayed focused on shooting and they could talk. They had finished brunch early and were killing time before the late church service started.
Daisy had puzzled over Beckett’s word choice since waking up this morning. When Vivian called to invite her for brunch, she leapt at the chance to sneak out before the guys were awake. Living with the guy who kissed her all the way to her bedroom door last night was awkward, because she had no idea what this meant for them—or him—or her, for that matter.
“I’m going to go with ‘I blew his mind.’”
Vivian laughed and threw a plastic cup at Daisy. “Confident much?”
She deflected the ammunition easily. “Once I stopped trying to analyze everything, I was feeling pretty great.”
“I’ll bet.”
They giggled.
Though they were having a grown-up conversation in front of a ten-year-old, they were super careful about their vocabulary. Saying things like his attention instead of kiss kept the atmosphere PG.
Jason shot off two rounds, knocking out the center cup. Because of the way Vivian stacked them, the majority of the tower remained intact. He squinted and reloaded.
“So are you guys a thing?” Vivian asked as she picked up the cups that had been knocked down.
“I have no idea. It felt like a lot more than just a thing. There was a real connection there—stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before.”
“Aunt Daisy, can you move your skirt?” Jason asked.
“Please,” reminded Vivian.
“Please,” he parroted.
“Sure, bud.” Daisy tucked her skirt tighter under her legs to give him the best shot. “Do you think I should talk to him?” she asked.
Vivian rubbed her lips together as she thought. Jason did the same thing as he aimed. Daisy smiled, wondering if either of them saw the resemblance. “Maybe I’m in a weird mood, but I say enjoy the ride.”
Daisy balked.
“I know. I know. But hear me out.”
Jason shot out a corner cup and half the tower tumbled. “Yes!” He clenched his fists in celebration.
Daisy braced herself. “I’m listening.”
“I think—and this is just speculation—but I think you and Beckett have some latent feelings for each other.”
Daisy cocked a grin, thinking of Beckett saying he’d wanted to kiss her since she was sixteen.
“And it’s possible that these feelings are left over from your teen years. Once you act on them, they’ll fade, and you’ll realize that at the bottom of all this you’re better as friends.”
Daisy tucked her hands under her legs. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”
“Of course not—you’re adrift in a sea of …” Vivian glanced down at her son. “… stuff that happens when you pay close attention to someone new.”
Daisy held back a laugh. “Yes, it does.” She could definitely say there were a lot of hormones circling and her head swirled with the memory of being held in Beckett’s arms. However, the idea this was all going to seep away the more they paid attention to one another wore like pants that gave her a muffin top. But she couldn’t throw out the idea as a possibility either.
Needing a distraction from the uncomfortable tightness around her midsection, she asked, “So, why is it that you claim to be my best friend and you don’t tell me you want to pay attention to my brother?”
Vivian’s chin lifted. “Because I don’t.”
“Bull.”
“I don’t,” Vivian said more forcibly. “I just got out of a situation where I was responsible for a man’s debt. I don’t want to go anywhere near that again, and Quinton has more debt than that other guy.” By situation she meant marriage, and by that other guy she meant her ex-husband.
Sibling loyalty brought Daisy to the defensive. Quinton was in debt, but he was living with Daisy so he could throw every penny he made at loans. “Quinton is not like that other guy. At all. He wouldn’t physically harm a soul and he takes full responsibility for his credit.”
“I know, but then there’s the whole friends thing.”
That wasn’t really a problem as far as Daisy was concerned. In fact, being friends first was a benefit. Her parents had started out as friends and they continued to layer love and respect and years on top of that. “You can still be friends.”
“I meant you and me.”
Daisy dropped her legs to the floor at the same time Jason shot. The bullet hit her and bounced off.
“Aunt Daisy!” Jason threw both hands up and then dropped them dramatically.
“Sorry!” Daisy handed him the bullet before turning her attention to Vivian. “What is wrong with being my friend?”
“Nothing—it just complicates the whole Quinton thing.”
Daisy lifted her hands to protest, but Vivian jumped in with, “I don’t need complicated—in any shape or form.”
“But then …” Daisy searched for the right words—ones she could use in front of Jason. “Being not single always has complications—always.”
“I know that. Which is why I’m choosing to be single. My life is complicated enough.”
Jason shot out the remaining corner of the tower and the whole thing tumbled to the ground. He jumped up, ready to retrieve his bullets and start again.
“Hold on there, Rambo. It’s time for church.” Vivian blocked his retreat.
“Awww.” Jason kicked a cup across the room.
Vivian suppressed the flash of annoyance. She smiled and pointed at the cup. “You’re going to want to pick that up.”
“I know.” Jason moaned and groaned but he did as asked. Soon all the cups were neatly stacked on the counter and the bullets stored in the toy box.
Daisy took advantage of the few minutes that Jason was in his room getting on his shoes to say, “I know it could be messy if things didn’t work out between you two, but you don’t have to worry about me. Okay? I want you both to be happy, and if that means you’re together, that’s great. If it means you’re not, I’m good with that too. Please don’t let me stand in the way of your happiness.”
“Do you think Quinton would make me happy?”
“No.”
Vivian started.
Daisy hastened to explain. “You make yourself happy. If you are miserable before you started a relationship, then you’ll be miserable in the relationship. So, no, Quinton won’t make you happy. But I think you two would laugh a lot—and that’s huge.”
Vivian hugged her tight. “I’m sticking to my guns on this one, but it means a lot to me that you think I’m good enough to date your brother—especially since you know so much about my past.”
“Are you kidding? You’re amazing.” Daisy patted her on the back. “And I’d be totally lost without you—you know that, right?”
Vivian laughed lightly. Jason slid into the room on his knees, pronouncing, “I’m ready.”
Both women laughed at his antics. Daisy may not have figured out her situation with Beckett, but she had figured out the Quinton-Vivian mystery. Maybe church would hold the revelation regarding what she was supposed to do about a guy who kissed like the god of thunder and said as many words about the whole thing as Mimevizzion.
Chapter Eighteen
EveryDayGlam! Beauty Tip
When you find a stylist who makes you feel happy, beautiful, and accomplished after seeing him or her, you want to feed your relationship to keep it healthy.
Be on time for your appointments and be realistic about your expectations—if you have straight hair, don’t bring in a picture of Sarah Jessica Parker’s curls and expect a miracle.
Keep your personal drama out of the chair—you want a friendly/professional relationship that makes discussing problems, should they arise, not awkward.
“If you keep running your fingers through my hair like that, I’m going to bail on this whole haircut thing.” Beckett groaned in pleasure as Daisy combed through his hair, her fingernails lightly scraping his scal
p. She and the barber were deep in conversation about his options.
“How did you have it before you grew it out?” Daisy continued to work her way through his mane.
Beckett had to close his eyes before they rolled back in his head. All sorts of nerves fired at her every touch. He could swear she made even his toes tingle. “I can’t remember,” he muttered.
Her fingers reached the end of his hair and she didn’t dig them in again. Immediately, his body felt colder, like he’d lost something. The same thing happened yesterday when he woke up to find she’d left the house and didn’t return until right before her early bedtime. She said she’d spent the day attending church with friends. He’d spent the day with a sullen Quinton adopting out a batch of puppies and wondering if he’d messed up a fantastic friendship by kissing his best friend’s little sister—repeatedly.
Quinton hadn’t said a word about what happened at the club, or Daisy, or kissing Daisy, or Vivian, or what happened with the covert glances and shy smiles; therefore, Beckett didn’t either. These weren’t really subjects that could be brought up delicately. Especially since there would be follow-up questions about their relationship status, plans, and intentions. If there were answers to those questions floating out there in the universe, Beckett wasn’t able to grab them.
While he avoided talking about what happened between him and Daisy with Quinton, he would love the chance to discuss it with Daisy. Between sharing a house with Quinton and her filming schedule, they hardly had a moment alone. Not that he would be sleeping on her couch if Quinton weren’t there. That would be much too much of a temptation.
“I think there should be a seamless line between his facial hair and sideburns.” Daisy’s conversation with the barber interrupted his contemplation of the smattering of freckles on her shoulder.
When they’d first arrive on-site, Daisy stood outside the barber shop by the twirling pole thing, praising the establishment and giving a short history lesson on barbers through the ages for her subscribers.
EveryDayLove!: A MyHeartChannel Romance Page 10